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the-last-poet-in-westeros · 4 years

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Love is Fire and finger of Sun - the last Song.

Part 01

That night, like many previous nights, many people did not get to sleep. The wind howled like penitential souls, and the dogs echoed it; barking furiously and timid. The inhabitants of King's Landing were touchy and moody, the Mad King seemed even more unpredictable in his behavior, and everyone sensed that it was only the silence before the storm. There is something in the air, even the shining "eye" of the moon, shining in the bloody sky with some ominous prediction, seemed to confirm it. The dream was only for the chosen ones, for those who did not have to worry about anything, such lucky people seemed to live beyond the horizon of the eyes, and only such people could give something better to the sick capital. The descendant of Aerys, however, seemed to care nothing, with a grace full of successful hypocrisy, playing the (pretend) lucky one. An imposter behind a mask of indifference. He sat staring somewhere in the distance without even blinking his eyes. The only sign that he was alive was his rising chest - indicating he was breathing. In fact, he was in the scenery of his own thoughts:

I am going to become a husband, without it it is impossible to become a ruler, to make significant changes; I can gain so much by this act. I could also lose it if my marriage were to look like my parents did. Marriage ... In fact ... It's not my decision, but let's be honest; if I had a sister, I wouldn't marry her. I hate the incestuous tradition of our family, so much so that sometimes I cannot look at myself; after all I am the fruit of incest! Purity of blood above all? Senselessness! What good has come of this for the Seven Kingdoms? Wasn't my father looking for discharge from mansions to just wenches? Fortunately, he did not beget benkarts, it could threaten with another Dance of Dragons. Here now I have a chance to rebuild the world, and this world's salvation, if only some part of people will listen to what I have read in the books. It started with Valyria and is heading towards us; from the North - the White Wanderers, from the South - Shades. Could the daughter of the southern lineage - the lineage who last bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror, with the blood of Nymeria in her - really be a hope for all of us? Will he be able to give me the three children I want, like legender siblings? One dragon rebuilding Valyria's glory and glory, facing her wraiths, another one that will defeat the shadows of Asshai, the third a vanquisher of the White Walkers. Three dragons as at the dawn of a dynasty.

In his memory, he moved to a wonderful world. And although he smiled a little, the corners of his mouth remained pressed down - as if in mockery, and there was something of sad anger in his eyes. What could be considered the beginning of insanity….

The clank of the hurdy-gurdy interrupted the consideration, as did the hiss of the fire in the fireplace. Impatience began to quiver in the air in Rhaegar's chamber, along with everything in the room, from large furniture and book collections to small trifles.

- Well ... What is she really like? Targaryen asked his friend sometime after the echoes were all bearing the news that the Princess Dorne had arrived in Westeros, but what the mouth carried had not all covered in reality. Overnight, the future heir of the Iron Throne was waiting for his bride, slowly losing his patience, almost to the point of crumbling her.

Ser Arthur Dayne, freshly released from duty, looked at him curiously and smiled for the first time that day, quite slyly. "It must have taken you enough time Rhaegar (he called by name because they were alone) to ask this question. I even wondered if you really wanted to know or not.

- Arthur my friend. I'm in no mood to tease. I ask you as a friend, my friend and former playmate of Elia Martell. Please answer when they ask you. Speak honestly.

- Well ... Being your friend I cannot answer with no other than honest answer. First of all, the princess will always be much more alien to you than me, because, as you rightly noticed, I have known her since I was a child. So all my praise to her and to her may seem biased to you, just as the image of the Princess who is due to arrive in the days may be just as untrue to you; such feelings can dwell in you because you look differently with your heart and with the cold reason of calculation.

- Arthur's heart? Could I not have it? True, I prefer to follow my reason when I see its loss in the circle of my immediate family. As for the image ... The image arrived today, early in the morning. The face of the princess is covered with a veil. I'm still wondering why? Almond eyes stare at me from the canvas, with a doe's gaze. Its coals pierce me, they penetrate the deepest recesses of my soul. It terrifies and fascinates me at the same time, but I cannot guess what is hidden in this veil of secrets. Don't think, just that I'm so down to earth as to believe that the woman in the house has some defect.

- Yes, with your heart. You have it for the people, why shouldn't you have it for your future Lady?- Finally ... For the sake of honesty ... I have no choice but to put on a white cloak while Elia wears a white wedding gown. Its beauty is unique, naturally by southern standards. The Mother of the Princess, the Grand Duchess of Dorne, still impresses with her vitality despite the strength of her age. The younger of her brothers is considered one of the handsomest men in Westeros, and all the Martells are very much alike. Formerly, she wanted to be a septa. Besides, I envy you Rhaegar, a wise woman will sit by your side, of which ... Elia's wisdom is more disturbing than her gift of seduction; it is safer to believe in its destructive attractiveness than in its destructive intelligence.

- Or so? Do I have a competitor, my friend? Arthur, you know how to cheer me up and thank you for being so honest. Rhaegar joked, catching the most interesting information from Arthur's answer.

- Hahaha. Possible. I wouldn't be myself if I didn't mention it, but if Elia doesn't want you ...

-What does it mean if you have something against me?- he asked, raising an eyebrow upwards, and the muscle of his cheek began to twitch on his so far calm face, from his jaw too tightly clenched. Equally quickly, however, the stony face returned to the prince, and with his manner of mock indifference, he continued, "Believe me, there is no woman in Westeros who would not want me," the young dragon spoke angrier, with open resentment, unfortunately betraying pride and vanity. that he would not have suspected himself of. Suddenly he was ashamed of his own feelings, or rather of how low motives were driving them. The initial merriment disappeared, and he began to treat his own words about the competition as a self-fulfilling prophecy. Arthur hit a very sore spot, though Rhaegar refused to believe his assumptions, trying to push down into it knowing that a friend might want to do so deliberately. On the other hand, after such a confession ... He couldn't wave his hand at the confidant's words, it would betray his ignorance, and therefore his own stupidity. The only thing left for him to do is not let the seed of jealousy sprout. Oh yes! He felt it settling in the heart and mind, how it pushes itself open for itself more and more sophisticated and comfortable place.

Arthur was talking about my wife! Amazing, would I already call this woman in my thoughts: wife, although she is not formally my wife, and not my own, thus denying the right to her to other, mainly unmarried men? Apparently, but this princess of mine is barely promised, the hands are over. She doesn't love me, that's for sure. So why did she go for such a deal? She was driven by her love for her younger brother, and his affair with old Lord Yronwood's favorite is well known here in the Western Lands. Such an old lord challenged the young man to a duel, during which both opponents were wounded. Oberyn recovered quickly, while Yronwood's injuries healed disastrously and left him dead. Rumor had it that the boy poisoned his sword before the fight. Interesting. Oberyn is also disliked by the Tyrells, who blame him for inflicting the disability of Willas Tyrell, Lord Mace's eldest son. Oberyn himself emphasizes that Willas became crippled as a result of an accident during a knight tournament. The Viper points out that the young Tyrell's skills were then insufficient to be able to stumble with other participants as equals, so that his son's handicap was caused by an overly ambitious father. After the accident, Martell sent a maester to Willas, who saved the boy's leg, but was unable to prevent him from limping. It is true that the relations between the heir of Highgarden and Oberyn are right now, and the gentlemen even exchange correspondence on neutral topics, which does not change the fact that my brother-in-law is a dangerous man. How much of him does Elia have? And if they are so close, why is she agreeing to marry me? Could it be that she wanted to see her younger brother, she was ready to sell herself? What a woman! What a hot and kind heart he must have! Among the many treasures of this world, I only want this - a truly human heart that loves me, not for my titles and origin, not for chivalry, or skill in the pen or strings - this is what I have every day, a barely summer infatuation, a desire to be in the shine celebru; how much of this artificial feeling would I experience when I was born under a thatched roof? And yet simple people, because of their simplicity and sincerity, experience more affection than the most outstanding heads endowed with strong understanding. I only want this one for myself to love me for myself, because of what kind of person I am by character and disposition, not by blood ... It's so little and much at the same time. I carry this desire within me like the most sacred secret treasure about which I tell no one, or confess it to anyone, even the most trusted; mother or the Sword of the Morning. Does the princess have the key to the Secret of my soul? For almost two weeks, when he doesn't write back to me, I sent twelve ravens to him, of which only two returned. Why is it delayed with an answer? What will write me back, if I write back at all ... But he has to write back! Or let him go back to his Dorne. On the other hand, since she has left, why is she teasing me? What if something happened to her?

- Did you say if, Arthur? he asked the confidant again, this time humbly. For he had realized the importance of the word if.

- Yes, Rhaegar, if. She is dornish, and our women enjoy special favors and rights, do not forget that, Duke. After all, initially the Duchess of Dorne wanted her daughter to marry Ser Jaimi Lannister, me alone ... by refusing her hand. Elia cannot be forced to do anything, her soul is a zephyr - a desert wind. He has a sweet character, and at the same time sharp wit and flawless manners. She is intelligent and kind, just like you, she has a great passion for art, especially literature, and especially for old books. All the dornish people, even the Yronwoods, love their princess much more than you, your subjects, Prince. She is ... the sun. Nothing else. You have to get to know her yourself to form an opinion about her.

- Okay, but I think her physical presence next to me would help me with that. Meanwhile ... She is still not in the capital.

- My sister sent me a message that the princess wants to be awaited because what is awaited is closer to her heart. As far as I know her, I believe she said it in the hope that her words would reach your ears, Rhaegar. She laughed as she said that. It is said that before reaching the capital, he explores the local forests, so exotic for us, the inhabitants of the south.

- Hm ... Cunning art, of my Lady, only charades are on her lips. I must admit, however, that her words are worthy of sending another urgent crow. Who knows, maybe our mentality is so similar, so similar that we hide the same treasure of secrets in a chest of hearts? Good night, Arthur. I still have a letter to write.

To Elia of Martells, Princess Dorne, future Duchess of Westeross, future Lady on Dragonstone,

Your words came to me with the wind. How they touched me! Not because of the echo that echoes them, but because they echo my own words; about thoughts and views on the world. "What is expected is closer to the heart later." How do you know about this? When and how did you get this confidence, experience? What or who is behind it? What is close to your heart? Whatever, or whoever it is, Princess know that it is already making me jealous! You are a great mystery. A woman, a thinker, an umpire, a princess - this makes us equal.

Who are you really? What is your secret name? Who is this woman who refuses me her envoys and flattery, covering her face with a veil of secrets? Who are you, Elia? You are either fearless or reckless, and I do not accuse you of the latter.

Oh, Lady Riddle!

What torment I suffer, both when you "speak" to me from the portrait and in silence. What a test you are putting me to! How you delight and arouse anger at the same time! Do you not know that your trade is in question? Of course you do. And that is why you punish me with such a quick answer and a wise gift - you realize that one will offend me and the other will delight me. Don't you know I could seriously undermine your tiny principality in the South? Do not confuse the heir of the crown with the boy, although I am indeed a man who comes to boyish ideas. I pulled your hair (without coming to your country). You kicked me in the shin. Don't you dare spit in my eye. I wonder about your messenger, although I already know that I will be disappointed. Don't send me the smartest or the smartest or the most skillful. I am tired of the constant flattery, poses and silly smiles; that the local women give me. Though the dornish emissaries don't smile silly. I am tired of carefully prepared settlements laid exactly like foundations for a palace. I even get tired of music, gold and feasting. Gets up hungry from your own table.

But you know the feeling because you are just as tired, I think. My words are a mirror. You know that too. Of course you do. I will take up the discussion again, knowing that I am talking to myself. Tell me: do you think your gods know you as I do, whose face you've never seen live (like yours)? How you keep me in suspense! You threw questions at me without saying anything, and you don't know me. You are playing a dangerous game. Fearless and reckless, he ends up being a fool. Are you stupid princess? If you're smart, you'll also be careful. If you are clever, you will do it with simplicity. But if you're kind, you'll send each of your emissaries with separate messages long enough to make the prince hungry - a beggar won't swallow them all at once. Although...

You are sending me not emissaries but scorpions and poisonous snakes, and I have opened the gates for them.

Send me an emissary with a lot of words from you to eat me up.

By typing back and sending me only two ravens out of my twelve, you say that you are writing to me as a woman, but you are not trying to tempt me. A woman who does not resort to seductive tricks - at least for now, but tests me with difficult questions and simple statements - a synthesis of the highest thinking skill - when and under what circumstances did you acquire her?

I was told you are the sun. How you set me on fire! Will you also dazzle? Will you seduce? Look, I am throwing you a gauntlet in the hope that you will pick it up according to the Martell motto! Seduce me if you can! Spell! I want to be seduced, will you meet the challenge!

This time you have to write back to me! As for my previous letters to you ... The cure did not reply, it means that you are suspicious even of your own heart. Could a southern daughter, child of Grand Duchess Mariah Nymeros Martell, be afraid to indulge in a little affection, with such hot blood in her own nature? Only the fearless or the reckless are in doubt. (Or ... extraordinarily prudent. Does fear of love make your wits serpent? Could I have figured you out? Tasting your fears, while wishing to wipe the chalk of fear off your cares!) the madness of knowing what others find dangerous. So we are dangerous because we know no other way to proceed. Here I am. I am having a conversation with myself, but I imagine that I am having it with you. These words will probably crumble in hiding and turn to dust in a darkness, much more lonely than myself in the cover of black ink on the snow-white card of innocent desires. Either way, we'll talk to each other. Not because I order it, but because we must do it. How did you get hold of my thoughts? How dare you distract your Successor with just one pixie sentence thrown to the wind? I have sent you gifts, but each one has come back to me. Do you disgust bribery? What is your price? What will you request in return, accepting nothing in return but my name, if you accept it. Which of us owe each other debts, how to pay them off? Send your people - I have given you all the reasons for doing this. If you don't, your goods will no longer count in all of Westeros, as my ships will travel far beyond the reach of your caravans and boats. Your buyers will start complaining about the tariffs I have imposed or the embargo. Who will buy your goods then? How will you enrich your treasury? This way I force you to reveal your cards. Will you be fearless or reckless in response? Send me your people. Don't be so arrogant. You haven't made a marriage alliance. Still not yet! Your trade is in danger. It's not a threat, it's true. You can gain a lot from me. You probably shuddered at those words, so let me put it another way: save your principality. Maybe it's just like you say: you don't need anything from the world or the Targaryens. But it does prevent Dorne from accessing inventions - if not in your lifetime, then in the lifetime of future generations. Finally, I am not a king, not even a man, but probably a boy who ineptly tries to tug a girl by the hair to get her attention - because with each day of delay, you tear my soul - surrounded by courtiers, officials ... thirsty for the world, but too often lonely in him. I think you know something about it, or maybe I am wrong, My Spirit of Disquiet? Maybe in Dorne, where you grew up, everything lives only to rejoice, maybe your land borders on a utopia, and sadness only appears in old nannies' tales. As for me ... I grew up hypocritical, surrounded by hundreds of obliging people, supposedly loving me for their own benefit.

I watched my father lose his mind, if ever he was normal, I saw my mother's tears flood your dry land with a flood. I chased away my maids, who wanted to be my favorites, but who were a painful, thorny shadow of my father's fury and mother's sorrow. The maids, ladies of great families, whose behavior did not differ much - I suppose - from any damned maid. I was learning the language of their sighs and looks when they thought no one was looking at them. I know the facial expressions of falsehood and disgusting adoration by heart. I wonder: where does your gaze go when you are alone? What is able to elicit your adoration, but not so for show, but sincere, true, coming from a woman's heart. What kind of look will you give me when I see you tangible? I am writing this in the hope that my questions will cease to be rhetorical. How many of your questions remain unanswered They say that I am wise, but wisdom does not bring peace. It only reminds us of what we don't know - and we can't know. About our weaknesses to which we surrender over and over again in those rare moments when we forget about the world we rule. Princess of Dorne, Woman full of midday heat, Daughter of the Sun! Lady Riddle, Personality of the Mystery! Send me your emissaries and something for me - not your incense, because I am surrounded by wonders. Not your seed because my table is set. Not your wise men, because I have been endowed with wisdom. But something from yourself. Fire of a thirsty soul. Give me yourself, in total exclusive devotion, and you will get the same in return.

Yours, I hope that it's yours and yours forever; Rhaegar Targaryen.

With still trembling hands, he put the letter aside as devoutly as possible, so that he could read it again with equally devoutly attention. The eyes began to dance with every line of text, every letter in calligraphy.

Praise, compliment, temptation to sincerely feel; that is, an innocent but ambitious introduction. Putting us together as equals, my search, helplessness in the race of too many thoughts. The confession in development, what a vanity, shoe and swaggering, and even arrogance speaks through me. Next ... Attempted negotiation, disguised intimidation and an inconspicuous threat of warning! Hell! I didn't think I could turn out to be so pyramidally stupid .... And ridiculous. But for the first time, I am able to fool myself. If it is to be a means to an end. Eh ... Naive, pathetic fool I am! Who would be moved by these words. He quickly crumpled the page, starting to be ashamed of his own confession, written as if in a will to teach the strong. Burn this letter, not burn it? But this letter is all me, only the real me. Slowly I exhaled the air so far held tightly in my lungs, and that a loud whistle ruffled the flames of the candles in the pupils of the reptilian eyes. I straightened the page again, but I did not think to rewrite the content "fresh"; these creases, however, showed something, presented me in an even fuller fullness. They were my whole being.

- And let it be what it wants. he whispered to himself, laminating the message he sealed with his own signet ring. The three-headed dragon of the Targaryen still smoked heat on the still plastic wax, a submissive beast. He walked over to the cage next to one of the windows of the chamber and carefully thrust his hand in so that the raven could jump on it.

- Grain. Grain, grain, grain - the bird croaked!

- Yes, grain. Here's a little pepper. You already know where and who to go to.

The raven flew away and my volcano of emotions flew away with it. I felt powerless, but so was relief. Doubts are gone. The situation began to clear up. Sink or swim. If Elia of the Martells does not send me a retort this time as well, I will have to send people to fetch her, or go for the princess by myself, surrounded by personal cavalry. It would put me in the awkward role of a tyrant, and I don't want that. Hmm ... The morning is close, although I would still have a few hours of sleep. To fall asleep, however, I will not fall asleep ... even though weariness deceives my senses.

He had barely closed his eyelids (or so Rhaegar thought) when a croaking came to his insomnia-heavy mind, coupled with the raven's gentle pecking of his owner's hand. All muscles flexed by willpower, and an envelope and ... purple plums lay on the princely lap. He quickly rewarded the bird with grain and broke the seal of the Martell's coat of arms, shivering with excitement.

So ... HOWEVER! My letter worked wonders. Arriving! He's coming today! What a joy! Ultimately, I am winning the battle! Wait ... Today, then ... TODAY! Damn it!

- Guards! Call the courtiers! Arrange carpets and flowers. Call and gather people. And it is now. Every townsperson is obliged to go out into the street and watch me enter with the Dornish princess. Let the peasants come down from the fields. Let the heralds blow their trumpets. In short, everything has to be prepared. As an encouragement, give people an exemption from serfdom for a period of two weeks, and issue the same edict on Dragonstone. The entire retinue set off from King's Landing at first with a great celebration, the lynx slowly set hoof after hoof, like a young pack of wolves behind a fleeing doe, and the atmosphere of the long-awaited meeting was heated by the people of the capital on the narrow, crowded streets - cheering the lucky ones, because they had a chance to see their own prince.

Am I worthy of these cheers?

Rhaegar had asked himself this question more than once when his expression was melancholy. He wanted to be worthy and maybe that is why he tried to catch the eyes of each person in the crowd individually, to bow, smile, because in such short moments only this sad smile was only a broad gift that he could give from the depths of himself. A provisional stop of time and the boundary of the birth states

Each of them are mine. I am just as imperfect, and maybe even more so, because I can afford to play butterfly, and they get poorer there. Will the full vault fill the bellies and hearts of its subjects? What do they love me for when I only have a spark of an idea and the goal remains unrealized. Oh Elia, sweet Mystery, may you bring with you a dowry, for which we will ensure a decent life not only for ourselves, but also for our subjects. If you impoverish a little of the sums of gold for your fellow human beings, the more dear you will be to me, Lady Riddle, be me an ardor of inspiration so that I can bear power and this country.

As soon as they left the red walls of the King's Sistership, the prince spurred his horse and gently slapped the animal's sides with its spurs. They walked this way with the lynx ahead, like a pack of young wolves behind a fleeing doe. They fall into a dense, damp and silent forest in their memory the closer they got to their destination. The eternal ate, moss-covered moss, huge oaks, cloudy-cloudy, old trees unknown to people - swing slowly in great reverie. And over the tops the wind sings and plays - an eternal, strangely sad song, about long lost worlds, about radiant stars and enchanted into ice ... As if the Children of the Forest themselves were whispering, hidden from human sight.

Not at wedding time to listen to such a song -

thought Rhaegar, lightly reinserting the beast, remembering the notes that were supposed to hold back thoughts of getting married; about the Children of the Forest and their conversation with nature, especially with trees. Inappropriate thoughts, at the wrong time; where the darkness of the forest thickened, churning the air to a colder one, until the entire ride had left the forest realm.

As soon as they saw a clearing, the princess and the entire retinue were approaching it, and Rhaegar evidently fell into the habit of a good mood, remembering that he had done his thing; that one sent raven and sheer honesty turned out to be the key to glory. He could congratulate himself. He enjoyed - almost always a melancholy man, almost everything. The ears of the weasel caught the sounds of the murmuring a few paces behind the walkers, mingled with the low sounds of snorting horses. Beside him, Ser Jaimie Lanniter in his golden armor, and Jon Conninton beside him. On his right hand, he has people he trusts completely - the Sword of the Morning and ser Baristan Selmy. On the edge of the meadows surrounding the city, the prince stops. The grasses bend down when laid with gusts of wind, and beyond this undulating plain you can feel the proximity of short gray waves - the Blackwater. Suddenly the Targaryen heir dismounts, hands the reins to Jaimie and, walking towards the carriage, he remembers a dream he had that night: he dreamed of this oriental woman with her face hidden under a veil. Her coffee-tinted amber eyes laughed ironically at him. She lured him, lascivious and tempting, to her bed. He approached her, wrapped his arms around her like a thirsty lover, began to make love to her and experienced a very intense bliss, perhaps the strongest he had ever experienced ...

He was only a few steps away from the taste of success. He's about to look into those black eyes full of an ironic smile with some superiority. Like a seasoned player, he will throw the dice while being absolutely sure of his win. The prince straightens up, tautens his torso, restrained, but eagerly grabs the hand-carved handle of the colas, opens the door and with a gesture full of learned courtesy offers his hand, so that, after a while, emerging from the enigmatic interior - a woman's hand gently aligns to the touch. Rhaegar stepped forward with great concentration and seriousness, only to experience disappointment and humiliation. The woman facing him was definitely not Elia Martell. Her laughter spread question marks in the young Targaryen's head, as Dayne approached, caught the smile of a fake princess dressed in the finest Myr lace; Ser Arthur seemed to be enjoying himself just as deliciously, and all the rest of the people in the clearing seemed to be made up of ferocious screamers who seemed to the prince to be no different from the vendors at the market or the washerwomen in the mangle. He tried to get out of the stunt with his face, though for the first time he had reached an irritation so great that his teeth gritted in an iron grip; it was in this situation that he could not comfort the instrument, so his fingers began to itch at the hot sword in the scabbard that begged to "cool down" in the fresh air. But he controlled himself with a loud hiss as he let the air out of his lungs.

She cheated on me! She planned it from the beginning, so she sent a crow! And those unfortunate purple plums. He is playing with me cruelly, and I let myself be made like a child! Or maybe he has objections to me? Maybe he is afraid of me and in his imaginations I am a copy of the Mad King for Elia, maybe he is checking how much I have in my father? Do I want an answer or do I get angry or furious easily? Well, she will have the opportunity to find out. Hm ... "Send me your emissaries," I wrote, and then this crumpled correspondence ... Yes, I certainly showed myself in a bad light, perhaps Elia thought that whoever she sent would imprison this persona ( by me) in King's Landing. Let's be honest, I would be ready for it, which is a fact terrifying for myself. Reckless or sane - that is the answer to my question. She is wise as for her own good - too wise, did I notice it when others noticed? What if she fell ill, consumed by anxiety that was my fault? (Her health is said to be fragile.)

- Where's the princess?- asked Rhaegar with concern, but firmly enough until all voices were instantly quiet enough to hear the buzzing of a bumblebee at the meeting place.

- Honorable Prince, these are gifts from Dorne from Princess Elia.

- A chest and a leather sackcloth, this is what dornish people can Do (...) "

-Open the chest -Aerys' son ordered.

The lid was opened with a loud screeching noise to take from the inside of the chest a fine silver-stringed harp, gold chain mail, and black armor adorned with a breastplate of a three-headed Targaryen dragon, all covered in rubies. Rhaegnar's gaze went to the leather sackcloth in which the rug is usually carried. Rhaegar approaches the strange gift, bends down, cuts the ropes around the rug and unfolds it. Inside is a young woman, dressed in white, with a slender body and slightly sharp features. There is a layer of dust and sand on her skin, which makes her skin seem to glow with sunny glitter. She talks about birth, and with a wreath on her hair, she looks like a woman of short birth, which is contradicted by the way she speaks. The princess is revealed by the choice of words, diction, timbre - the right, intoxicating timbre of her voice. And the eyes ... The same flirtatious look that tormented the young dragon for so long. Yes it is those eyes! Almond-shaped, with a combined color of mocha and amber, with the look of a doe mixed with an internal light resembling a fire. The voice, in turn, radiated a mixture of dignity, grace and seduction

She picked up the glove. Her smile is like a real caress. She understood my message, hence the outfit; just like me, she wants to be loved as she is, and not because of who she is or who she was born to. Here is the future queen! I couldn't find better! The sun shone for me, I was returned to life! She is a beauty dressed in an imperfect human form, by divine intervention of a whim. Can evil live in such a wonderful body? In that moment, the world suddenly stopped and I could give the devil a soul for her happiness. I will do everything to make her happy, not letting anyone hurt her, because the sun shone for me, warming my heart, to the red, ancient fire! Hmm ... As Arthur put it, "Elia's wisdom is more disturbing than her gift of seduction; it's safer to believe in her destructive attractiveness than in destructive intelligence."

In his thoughts, Rhaegar remains in frozen silence, unmoved. Is it some unknown goddess of love and beauty who is sending him her messenger? He is reminded of how some counselors did not spare him lampoons about her: as a woman devastated by debauchery, a crowned whore, a ruin who binds her victims to herself. All these warnings now generate a fire of desire in him, awaken the beast that struggles painfully on the chains, tightens them to the limit, and at his feet he has hell, mixed with zephyr, at his feet not only Dorne, but the whole world - just like Elia sitting at his feet. And she caresses him again. It provokes to dominate. The prince has the impression that she radiates more and more intense warmth, how he is warmed by the sight of her, how he burns to the sun that illuminates his soul, chases away his melancholy, dazzles and eclipses everything around him. How he wanted to touch her young, oriental body! The bodies of one of those experienced women who can wrap themselves so tightly around their lover's body that he only feels one body in common, with his arms and legs tangled together; joined lips - joined souls. Rhaegar can feel the hardened crust that has surrounded him for years soften and crumble as he ... begins to live! I want to live! For the woman who brought him back to life!

He walks closer to her, takes a small female hand, as if made of cast copper; patterned in intricate mandalas, he observes these patterns with tenderness, rubs his thumb with a shortcut, going up to the wrist - from then on this gesture, an intimate gesture that you should not allow yourself to do with everyone, because of the etiquette that remained today it is breached in a worse quantity - it will remain reserved, only for HIS WOMAN! He looked into the snake eyes once more and was completely drowned in them! In her eyes he saw his / their unborn babies! His eyes were stone, not revealing what was going on in his soul.

- Don't you really know that your words and your arrival have brought me back to life? They raised me up - yes, because they echoed my own thoughts. Or are you so radiant that you have not experienced so few hardships of authority that you have no idea of loneliness? Meanwhile, you sealed my blanks. Why do you think I asked you to send an emissary? To you who silence the rulers? Because, against all logic, you will achieve more with provocation than with flattery.

As the princess was getting ready to stand, Rhaegar forested her, bending slightly and lifting her up. Her bare feet did not go unnoticed by the prince; she might hurt herself while walking, carrying her such an accident would not happen.

Then, with the triumphant's step, he approached the horse, placing his princess in the saddle and, slightly pushing himself off the ground, put his foot in the stirrup, and after a while he sat right behind his future spouse.

- Rhaegar, is that wise?" - Connington said.

- Lions are hungry, Jon. I know it; but either they will accept my Lady, or if they are to throw mud on us, then together (for they will throw it on me as well). Together from now on.

They drove into the capital back to the capital. Ladders were pressed against the walls of the houses, on which talk was crowded, and from the open windows the townspeople and pretty townspeople, dressed up as for the greatest holiday, cheered. People screamed, to whom many gifts that day, from fig cakes or date cakes to gold, did not cease to toll the cannons and rang bells, and so the retinue reached the Great Skept in the evening, where all heads bowed by candlelight.

According to the coronation custom, Rhaegar was second, after Elia, who was the first, right behind the Grand Marshals of the Crown and two dignitaries carrying the insignia of power on golden trays: a scepter and an apple. The solemn coronation began, preceded by a wedding rite, an oath and the binding of their hands with a stole. The entire ceremony flew by Rhaegar extremely quickly, perhaps because of the joy that filled his heart to come. However, with every small gesture, he tried to support his Lady both in spirit and physically when things became necessary. He sensed Elia's tension, so he wanted to be calm for both of them. He fell in love with a woman for the first time, with pure love, his heart experienced its impulses, and therefore he took his own strength for both of them.

On the tables there were thousands of goblets and bowls with all kinds of meat, hundreds of silver dishes with slender pheasants sitting on them in full feathers, with game substantial thanks to silver-plated bison and deer horns, artfully tied to the handles of the trays, and finally many golden bowls with red, raspberry oranges , lemons, grenades and fruit in sugar. They drank the stale wines and honeys brought in from Dorne for that day. Orations alternated with cheers, the southern orchestra played ...

To awaken the sun. Rhaegar admired the harmonious movements, the varied pace. He grew proud, seeing how men devour his wife with their eyes, and at the same time cultivated the conviction that from now on he is the succinct, only he has the right to this woman, for whom he wanted to cover the body consisting of a volcano of spontaneity only by himself to satiate the hungry eyes. He fed on the thought of their mutual belonging, each seemingly innocent, yet lasciviously tempting - a dance gesture that seemed to be an announcement and an invitation to the "garden of pleasure" of her body; everyone was playing for him. Goddess of senses, sensual sorceress, inspiration, inspiration, muse, personification of sexuality and vitality - this was what Elia appeared to Rhaegar's eyes. She also awakened in him the same chain-tensioning beast - which made her existence known with a soft roar, somewhere in the princely consciousness. An ivy woman who begs for passive breakage ... Fighting a battle and a private fight, confirmed by an invitation to dance, which he treated as a thrown gauntlet!

Then the door opened and SHE appeared in the doorway! From beneath the royal djadem of her raven-colored hair, eyes that were deep, proud and sweet at the same time looked at me. The classic head, worthy of the chisel of the best sculptors, was decorated with a candlestick set with rubies. A soft, snow-white peplos enveloped her full and mature figure, flowing in harmonious waves to the feet in ancient thongs. Juno stolata! Then she leaned over me and kissed me on the lips. The blood rushed to my head with a thousand hammers, the world boiled with a drunken whirl - I lost my temper! Although I knew that dance is one common "fight" in which it was not going to fight each other, but to reach for the movement's response to movement. My lips brought to my Lady's ear to sing to her the words of my own temptation and holy mystery to the melody:

- - Dance me to your beauty and let the violin tremble in the fire through panic, until I find my safe harbor. You are the olive branch, I will pick you up and let's fly. Dance me after the end of love. Ah, show me your beauty until no one sees us. Time seems to have revived Valyria in your movements. Show slowly what is allowed to see only me, dance me after love the end. Dance me till wedding, ah dance me, dance me, dance me. Dance me very gently for as long as possible. Let us be above this love, let us also be below it; Dance me to those children who are asking to be born into the world. Through the curtains that bear the mark of kisses, though they are torn, but in their shadow you can take refuge, dance me after love to the end. Dance me into your beauty and let the violin tremble in the fire, through panic fear, until I find my safe harbor, caress me with your naked hand or in a glove, dance me for love end ...

We became the expression of the dance's desire, I hid Elia in a strong embrace, I held her like sin, holiness and redemption, I held her as if my arms were to be the walls of a fortified city, hiding the greatest treasure. Promenade, scissors, corte, paseo, la marcha, ocho, grapevine, ruedas (wheel), media luna (crescent moon), molinete (windmill) - dance figures intertwined again and again in a different order. the hand wandered after shapely and full, feminine charms; I gave her my heart, in a gesture full of passion, as if I were tearing it away, I pulled it towards me, grasping the string of pearls, until it sprinkled like virginal tears. Oh yes your heart is ripped from your chest and fills the empty smoking hole left by mine. Volcady and colcady - a presentation of uninhibited passion. I pushed her away from me as if I had to go my own way and pulled her back towards me as if I would take her in front of everyone here on the dance floor, and then ended up as if she had ruined me for life ...

I wanted to lay her on the bed and cling to her with my whole body, but I was afraid of the madness of my own hands, the power of my own desire. The desires that accompanied me from the very first moment, since the mysterious likeness was sent, tormented at night, bringing about erotic dreams; tormenting the leaves even more, after a beautiful flower bloomed from the carpet ... When the memory of the letter and the reality did not leave me, mixing with the most secret, ancient dreams of waking up about starting a family with her. A real family.

Fearing that he might hurt my spouse, I bowed, intimidated, my forehead to her majesty. And she, having stepped back, let me go into the chamber with a gesture of her hand. Silently, she sat down in a deep niche on a bed carved in giallo antico.

I knelt on the rug at her feet and rested my head in her lap. She embraced her with a warm, maternal movement and, plunging her fingers into my hair, began to brush it caressingly. We looked into each other's eyes constantly, unable to get enough of each other's view. We were silent. Not a single word has been spoken between us so far. As if we were afraid with an incautious sound to scare the angel of the spell, which bound us and bound our souls ... Later, I tried to tame the beast struggling with more force, so hard that it broke the chains, but it had to obey, because I did not want to turn into a monster. I didn't mind when, rising from her feet, she threw me on the bed. But as soon as she approached and kissed me with all tenderness, I was so satisfied with the taste of her lips like semi-sweet decayed wine that I became drunk. I grabbed her violently and pulled her towards me, feeling no resistance, I threw her into the bed in love passion. With a quick, elusive movement, she unhooked the amber brooch from her shoulder, revealing to me the priceless pride of her body. And so I possessed her with tender pain and longing without measure, in the drunkenness of the senses and the delight of the heart, in the frenzy of my soul and in the blood of a fire ...

Rhaegar had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to enjoy the moments he had stolen to build a bond with Elia for long. He felt that people would be disturbed by this because one behind the other was walled up, and individual units were easier to manipulate than someone with similar goals that were similar enough that it was difficult to change them. With this in mind, at about six in the morning, he finally opened his heavy eyelids and looked around him with awareness and with the pleasant awareness that his spouse was still sleeping by his side like a beautiful dream that had turned into reality. He moved tenderly over the hazel skin of his chosen one, kissing her forehead. Much to his own worry, which made him feel immediately melancholy, he discovered that so far, he hadn't said that ... he hadn't shown her a secret garden surprise so far, but he hadn't composed a song for her either. He decided to fix his "mistake". First he went to the mahogany desk and, looking again and again at the still sleeping Elia, he wrote down his innermost memories related to her, and then, filling his eyes with her nakedness, he quickly ran his fingertips over the harp strings, the whole composition already in his head. He started another, cheerful, lively and full of life like Elia herself and would have ended had it not been for a knock on the door. He ignored them at first. The second time it became much more insistent, he walked over to the bed and kissed the forehead, eyes and mouth of his wife and mistress warmly. He was aware that after spending the night together, she would have to rest, he was so often intoxicated ...

- I love you - he whispered. - Sleep sweetly, My Morning Star. I have to leave, but I'll be right back.

He got up from his desk and hurriedly opened it, lest Elia were awakened. To his own surprise in the corridor stood the Lion and the Griffin alternately nervous and preoccupied with some worry.

- My Lord, forgive me for interrupting my blissful moments. The king wants to know the power of fire again. Several people were arrested at his request. Among them there were also several mighty and lords. Needless to say, my Majesty, the mood in the city worries us. It started with innocence. First, someone shouted, "Down with the Mad King! Then down with the Targaryens." The city is storming, they plan to go to the castle.

At first, Rhaegar said nothing. Lannister apparently took this as evidence to continue the bad news.

- That's not all, Your Majesty. As much as what is happening outside is disturbing, we must be afraid of those who are within these walls.

- What do you mean?

- A woman was killed.

A chill ran across Targaryen's skin, followed by a painful crush in her stomach.

- Is my mother ...

- The Queen, exhausted, is alive. The dead woman is Allyria Dayne, sister of Ser Arthur and the daughter of the Princess Lady - Ashara. Therefore, I am an advocate of this bad news. The remaining siblings are too shaken to overcome their grief and talk to anyone in this difficult moment. In addition, it was found on the body - Jaimie handed Rhaegar a small bundle:

„Down with the dornish Girl!”

Rhaegar understood the warning. Dornish wench. Who could be next? Ashara? Elia? He didn't even want to think about it! By accepting it, it was also against himself. Suddenly he felt insignificant. Thoughts with a thousand hammers ran through his head: how to protect himself from another such "accident". But there was no answer.

Death to one dornish woman and casting a shadow on the other. Sly. I won't be surprised if your father is behind this in agreement with Baelish. The only good thing about all this is that they can't kill Elia right away because who would they blame then, and what if I'm wrong? The riots in the city coincided with the murder of Allyri. What served as a smokescreen why? Murder, riot or riot, homicide. Finally: why was she killed ?! Was it intended as an example of a warning, or is there anything else to it?

- Today I will help you calm the people. Now I would like to speak to my wife. Although ... The later he finds out about it, the better. Guard her, Jaimie. he turned to one of the knights, knowing that Conninton couldn't bring himself to the basics of court etiquette against Elia.

- Command. I promise.

- I trust you. Now forgive me my friend.

The prince's sensitive hearing heard the signs of life in the chamber.

Elia got up.

He entered the room with a heavy heart, when he heard that characteristic laugh behind him, he turned and suddenly the dragon's heart warmed at the sight of a smile that was like a caress: - You are my Lady - he came to the young duchess and kissed her hand. `` And I was just issuing the orders, not so much by gardens as by gardens ... '' He broke off in mid-word, seeing Conninton, who wanted to interrupt them. - Put me alone with the duchess. the Targaryen heir said, waiting for the door to close behind Jon and Jaimi, then hugged Elia, recently Targaryen, and whispered directly into her ears, "Do you know what sweetness is?" It is knowing that you are in this castle. Do you know what anguish is? It is an inability to look at You, especially when others are watching, My Surphin. Yes, you are my weak point, but also my greatest strength, when they notice what love I have for you, they will undoubtedly hit us! If they don't want to take you away from me anymore, he took a breath away from her hot southern body, but it was enough to make them meet each other's eyes. Yes, Elia! I love you, it's the first time I'm in love and that's what you are! I do not want to offer you only words, but show my love with a gesture, because you are the answer to my prayers. How spotless your hands and beautiful feet are! You are like a gazelle. Oh, how graceful are your faces among the earrings, your neck among the strings of pearls! Your eyes are like the eyes of a snake - they delude before the snake bites. Are you poisoning me, Lady Mystery? Your eyebrows like doves. Will they fly away? Here you stand in your proud form - my greatest fetish. Now come closer, I'll tell you Elia secret, walking down the corridor where our chambers are located, you will come across a small passage. It is always guarded. They are the stairs leading to my garden, available only to me and now also to you. But only for you. You never know when, from whom and what you will hide from there. Now don't worry about anything, but promise me that you will not leave the chamber while I am away. Unless there (he made a hand gesture) through the secret passage to the secret garden.

He took the instrument and his wife on his lap. The room was filled with a sound of sweet sadness - a sadness that ended not so much with a literal, literal rupture as a string tearing, as the enraged sounds of the crowd echoed through the open shutters.

- Stay here! Under no circumstances leave the chamber! Unless you know where. Ser Jaimie has promised to look after you. Stay healthy and strong for me! - and, kissing his spouse on the forehead, went to his duties; believing that he is leaving her safe, in the care of a man he trusts.

Still, or still trusts. Question: how long?

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snowstcrm · 5 years

Text

The Young Wolf and The Last Dragon

Summary: Daenerys spent her years growing up in the Water Gardens palace of Dorne, hidden away from Robert Baratheon's wrath and the world. The usurper is dead however, and kings have begun to rise across Westeros to partake in the game of thrones. One lord in particular has been sweeping every enemy in his path in order save his father in Kings Landing, something Doran Martell sees as an opportunity to finally place the Targaryen princess in his care on the Iron Throne. For the first time in her seventeen years of life, Daenerys sails away from her pools and lemon trees in order to marry the Young Wolf in the north and redeem her family's tarnished name.

Pairing: Robb Stark x Daenerys Targaryen (Robberys)

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Chapter 1 - Farewell to Lemon Trees

Daenerys passed the guards and entered the lush garden, steps slow and hesitant until her eyes found the man seated in a wheelchair. “Uncle, you called for me?” She asked as she approached him, placing her hand on top of his. He was her brother-in-law in truth, but he had taken her in since she was nigh a month old and raised her in the safety of the Dornish palace. Your mother named you Daenerys. He told her once when she was a child splashing in the pools of the Water Gardens. After the Targaryen princess this palace was built for. She gave you that name and and lost her life while trying to get you here safely. She loved you dearly.

She was well versed in Westerosi history, both in centuries old and new. It wasn’t easy to sneak out of the palace, so on most days Daenerys kept herself busy with reading. Reading, writing, reading some more, swimming in the pools, learning the harp, and spending many hours in classes with tutors. Valyrian. She had said as a girl nearing her sixth nameday. I want to learn Valyrian ‘cos the book said Targaryens are Valyrians. Then not a month later Doran had Valyrian texts delivered to her room. Indeed she was spoiled, but she also wasn’t naive enough to believe that this warm upbringing came without any expected duties of her. She knew what she was. She knew that she was an extremely valuable chess piece for the Martells in the game of thrones all the houses of Westeros played. They kept her safe and treated her so dearly that she couldn’t find it in her heart to resent them for that truth though. A few years ago she resolved that if the time ever came and they called on her to carry out duties, she would give them that. Who else in these lands would she place her loyalties in if not them?

“Yes, news has travelled from the north.” His voice ever calm and pensive, a calculative mind behind his words. “Lord Eddard Stark has been detained in Kings Landing and the Lannisters are preparing for his execution. His two daughters are trapped in the capital as well. His eldest son has rallied the north and is travelling south to save him.”

Her brows furrowed as she took in the information before she gave a slight shake of her head, “Joffrey Baratheon, you mean. Joffrey Baratheon will execute him.”

A small smile pulled at his lip, “No, sweetling.”

--------

Eddard Stark… She pondered as she packed some of her belongings for the long trip ahead. He was one of the men that helped overthrow her father. She knew many cruel stories about her father dubbed the Mad King, and though she acknowledged them, she still felt an obligation to defend the Targaryen name rather than denounce it. She was not Aerys or Rhaegar, but they were her blood, her kin. She was the last dragon and she would redeem the Targaryen name for the sake of her mother and even her sweet brother Viserys that were both killed before she could love them. She’d redeem it for any future children of her own, and their children.

She couldn’t take much with her, but she was warned that her airy Dornish dresses would do her no good anywhere else in Westeros anyway. Instead she took a few books of poetry and history along with other things that could help her pass the time. She picked out a few of her thicker dresses that might stand the chillier weather and some of her best leathers for comfort.

A glint of gold caught her eye and she paused, looking over to the vanity to find her jewelled dagger resting inside a sheath that was just as intricate and exquisite. Walking over to the table, Daenerys picked the weapon up and held it in her palms as she contemplated. She did not know much about the Young Wolf but perhaps they could start on good terms if she presented him with a gift… She did not use the dagger anyway as it was more of a piece to display someone’s wealth and tastes rather than combat prowess. She much more preferred a spear or whip for that matter, any way. The dagger was a gift that had been given to her by a distant lord in Essos that supported her claim years ago.

She wrapped the dagger in a cloth and stashed it in the leather chest she had been given for travel. I may never return. She realized, and the mere thought made her heart ache. The Water Gardens and the land around it were all she had ever known, nestled away in the safety of the palace to hide her from Robert Baratheon’s wrath. But now Robert was dead and kings were springing up across Westeros to claim the seven kingdoms for themselves, and she would marry one of them.

A warm breeze filled her room and she glanced out her window, watching as the leaves of her lemon tree rustled and danced with the wind. Would there be any warmth waiting for her in the north at all?

“Robb Stark is young but his conquests have proven successful. I believe he will take Westeros and swallow it whole-- Baratheons and Lannisters alike. Dorne can only avoid the brewing conflict for so long.” He looked from her back to the shimmering courtyard pools. “I want what’s best for the Dornish people and I know you love this kingdom as much as I. I raised you to be knowledgeable, strong, and wise, so you could one day take back your rightful throne and be a good ruler for Dorne and for all.”

She knew it had always been the truth, but it was different to finally hear it spoken. This had been her duty from the beginning. She had known. She had always known, and she was ready. “You raised me well uncle. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me.” The words were spoken softly, a gentle expression overtaking her features. “I will be a good queen, for all the men, women, and children.”

He nodded, a look of resolve in his eyes. “You will have advisers with you, but they and I can only do so much for you once you’re placed in the fray. The Young Wolf appears to have no desire for the Iron Throne. Who will he place on it once he kills the king and retreats back to the north with his father? Let him see you for what you are.”

Her heart thrummed in her ears at the prospect of sitting on the throne herself. She had assumed that she would be wife of the king, not the ruler herself. “But… I am a woman… The other kingdoms do not recognize Dornish succession laws.”

“Who will be left to stand against you once the Young Wolf tears his and your enemies limb from limb?”

Her hands ran through her once silver-gold tresses, now dyed dark as a raven’s feathers. It was merely for the travel north to White Harbor, one of her handmaidens reassured as the green powder she had mixed with water and other liquids became a mud in her hair. Though it worried Daenerys during the process, she quite liked the final result regardless of how bizarre it was to look at her reflection and not recognize herself right away.

“Ashara Dayne come again,” a voice commented and Daenerys let go of her hair as she looked up to meet the eyes of Oberyn who had arrived to the Water Gardens to travel with her. From her understanding he and his men would be dropped off to sneak into Kings Landing while she would stay on the ships that would keep travelling north to White Harbor.

“Uncle,” she grinned, a hop in her step as she went to hug him. “You haven’t visited Water Gardens for weeks. I was growing concerned.”

He placed a hand on top of her head in reassurance, “A lot has happened and far too quickly, but we’re ready now. I have waited many years for this time to come and now the heads of Elia and her children’s murderers will finally be mine. My family’s justice and yours.”

“I wish you good fortune uncle.” Was it wrong that a secret side of her wished him to slaughter every Lannister and Baratheon man in Kings Landing responsible for her family’s murders? Rhaenys and Aegon barely had a chance at life before their brutalized bodies were presented to Robert Baratheon. She did not care much for the Stark lord either, but she was sure that her new husband-to-be would not take kindly to her even thinking such things of his father. She’d be mindful of her words around him, as she always was.

They were near ready to set sail when Daenerys asked one last wish of Doran. She asked to bring her mare with her on her journey to the north. Daenerys could not bear to part with Silver who had been her companion for a better part of ten years and she had been brought to tears when she visited her in the stables to wish her farewell. She did not cry for many things, but leaving Silver behind was something she could not bring herself to do.

She leaned against the wooden railings of the ship, watching with tears stinging at her eyes as they sailed further and further away from the beautiful beaches and palace, the only home she had ever known. Growing up she had always wished to see the world beyond its ornate walls but now that it has come to pass, a fear seeded itself in the pit of her belly. Westeros was not safe for her. Even her future husband the Young Wolf was said to turn into a beast during battle and eat his enemies. How could she know that such a feral man wouldn’t kill the daughter of the Mad King once he laid his eyes on her? Surely Doran wouldn’t send her off to be killed. He wanted her to be queen. For the time being she could only trust in the man that had raised her and show her new allies that she was not defined by the sins of her family.

I am the blood of the dragon. She repeated in her mind again and again to gather her courage. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them all, not tears.

-->leave kudos or a comment on ao3

#my posts #my writing #daenerys targaryen #Robb Stark #robberys #game of thrones #WELPPPP starting another fic when i just started another one ooooohpsie

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blackcur-rants · 5 years

Text

Musical Theatre Songs that remind me of characters in “A Song of Ice and Fire”

01. Eddard Stark: Tradition (“Fiddler on the Roof”)

02. Catelyn Tully-Stark: Meadowlark (“The Baker’s Wife”)

03. Lyanna Stark: Heart of Stone (“Six”)

04. Jon Snow: Proud of your boy (“Aladdin”)

05. Robb Stark: Go the Distance (“Hercules”)

06. Sansa Stark: Home (“Beauty and the Beast”)

07. Arya Stark: Reflection (“Mulan”)

08. Bran Stark: Strangers like me (“Tarzan”)

09. Meera Reed: On my way (“Brother Bear”)

10. Jojen Reed: One Song Glory (“RENT”)

11. Rickon Stark: Good Kid (“The Lightning Thief: The Musical”)

12. Wyman Manderly: What I did for love (“A Chorus Line”)

13. Beric Dondarrion: Do you hear the People sing? (“Les Miserables”)

14. Daenerys Targaryen: Defying Gravity (“Wicked”)

15. Rhaegar Targaryen: Love is an open door (“Frozen”)

16. Viserys Targaryen: Lonely Room (“Oklahoma”)

17. Aerys II Targaryen: Hellfire (“The Hunchback of Notre Dame”)

18. Rhaella Targaryen: Baby Mine (“Dumbo”)

19. Khal Drogo: I wanna be like you (“The Jungle Book”)

20. Tyrion Lannister: One Last Hope (“Hercules”)

21. Bronn: Money, money, money (“Mamma Mia”)

22. Tywin Lannister: Things you see in a graveyard (“Repo: The Genetic Opera”)

23. Joanna Lannister: I know him so well (“Chess”)

24. Cersei Lannister: My Lullaby (“The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride”)

25. Jaime Lannister: As long as he needs me (“Oliver”)

26. Aurane Waters: On the Amazon (“Mr. Cinders”)

27. Kevan Lannister: You’ll be back (“Hamilton”)

28. Theon Greyjoy: Prince Ali (“Aladdin”)

29. Asha Greyjoy: Just around the Riverbend (“Pocahontas”)

30. Balon Greyjoy: Why we build the wall (“Hadestown”)

31. Euron Greyjoy: Alive (“Jekyll and Hyde”)

32. Victarion Greyjoy: I’m mean (“Popeye”)

33. Aeron Greyjoy: You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch (“How the Grinch stole Christmas”)

34. Hoster Tully: The Private and Intimate life of the House (“Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812”)

35. Walder Frey: Master of the House (“Les Miserables”)

36. Lysa Arryn: Rose’s Turn (…that one musical about Rose Lee Hovick with the very unfortunate title)

37. Myranda Royce: Dancing through life (“Wicked”)

38. Mace Tyrell: Mine, Mine, Mine (“Pocahontas”)

39. Olenna Redwyne-Tyrell: Painting the Roses Red (“Alice in Wonderland”)

40. Loras Tyrell: She used to be Mine (“Waitress”)

41. Margaery Tyrell: Living it up on top (“Hadestown”)

42. Samwell Tarly: Dust and Ashes (“Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812”)

43. Gilly: Requiem (“Dear Evan Hansen”)

44. Robert Baratheon: Joanna (“Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street”)

45. Joffrey Baratheon: The Phoney King of England (“Robin Hood”)

46. Myrcella Baratheon: Dancing Queen (“Mamma Mia”)

47. Gendry: My Petersburg (“Anastasia”)

48. Jon Connington: How it Ends (“Big Fish”)

49. Stannis Baratheon: Stars (“Les Miserables”)

50. Davos Seaworth: If I were a rich man (“Fiddler on the Roof”)

51. Selyse Florent-Baratheon: Evening Prayers (“Carrie”)

52. Alester Florent: I don’t understand the poor (“A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder”)

53. Renly Baratheon: Gaston (“Beauty and the Beast”)

54. Brienne of Tarth: The Impossible Dream (“Man of La Mancha”)

55. Septon Meribald: God Help the Outcasts (“The Hunchback of Notre Dame”)

56. The High Sparrow: Wonderful (“Wicked”)

57. Doran Martell: All the Wasted Time (“Parade”)

58. Elia Martell: Your Daddy’s son (“Ragtime”)

59. Oberyn Martell: Make them hear you (“Ragtime”)

60. Sarella Sand/Alleras: What’s this? (“The Nightmare Before Christmas”)

61. Marwyn: Higitus Figitus (“The Sword in the Stone”)

62. Qyburn: The Oogie Boogie Song (“The Nightmare before Christmas”)

63. Arianne Martell: Still Hurting (“The Last Five Years”)

64. Quentyn Martell: Hero (“Ghost Quartet”)

65. Gregor Clegane: My Name (“Oliver”)

66. Sandor Clegane: When there’s no one (“Carrie”)

67. Petyr Baelish: Easy Street (“Annie”)

68. Varys: You’ve gotta pick a pocket or two (“Oliver”)

69. Illyrio Mopatis: Molasses to Rum (“1776”)

70. Barbrey Dustin: When you’re good to Mama (“Chicago”)

71. Bloodraven: Die Faden in der Hand (“Rudolph”)

72. Egg: This is the moment (“Jekyll and Hyde”)

73. Dunk: Waiting for life (“Once on this Island”)

74. Rohanne Webber: Ich Gehor Nur Mir (“Elisabeth”)

75. Eustace Osgrey: God, I hate Shakespeare (“Something Rotten”)

76. Daemon II Blackfyre: La Donna e Mobile (“Rigoletto”)

77. Roose Bolton: What’s the use of feeling, Blue? (“Steven Universe”)

78. Ramsay Snow: Dentist (“Little Shop of Horrors”)

79. Dolorous Edd: Knight of the Woeful Countenance (“Man of La Mancha”)

80. Alliser Thorne: G Company Blues (“From Here to Eternity”)

81. Satin Flowers: Pixies of the Ether (“Soho Cinders”)

82. Shae: It’s all the same (“Man of La Mancha”)

83. Donal Noye: Bare Necessities (“The Jungle Book”)

84. Mance Rayder: It’s hard to be the bard (“Something Rotten”)

85. Tormund Giantsbane: Through Heaven’s Eyes (“The Prince of Egypt”)

86. Ygritte: Soldier and Rose (“Ghost Quartet”)

87. Jeor Mormont: One Last Time (“Hamilton”)

88. Jorah Mormont: Meant to be yours (“Heathers”)

89. Barristan Selmy: They call the wind Maria (“Paint your Wagon”)

90. Ashara Dayne: Lily’s Eyes (“The Secret Garden”)

91. The Green Grace: You’re playing with the big boys now (“The Prince of Egypt”)

92. Hizdahr zo Loraq: We are Siamese (“Lady and the Tramp”)

93. Reznak mo Reznak: Was I Wazir? (“Kismet”)

94. Xaro Xhoan Daxos: Money makes the world go round (“Cabaret”)

95. Aegon VI Blackfyre: Chip on my shoulder (“Legally Blonde”)

96. Jalabhar Xho: Diva’s Lament (“Spamalot”)

97. Quaithe: A cover is not the book (“Mary Poppins Returns”)

98. Melisandre: Age of Aquarius (“Hair”)

99. R’hllor: Der Holle Rache kocht In meinem herzen (“The Magic Flute”)

100. The Others: Ewigkeit (“Tanz der Vampire”)

@musicalhell @book-sansa @daphneblakess @flightsofwonder @dumbandlazy @cynicalclassicist

#fire cw #horror cw #aids cw #caps cw #graveyards cw #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones cw #game of thrones #ghosts cw #hadephobia cw #religious talk cw #slurs cw #ableism cw #money cw

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alltomtrav · 7 years

Photo

New Post has been published on http://www.alltomtrav.info/experten-har-toppchans-spik/?Allt+Om+Trav

Experten: ”Har toppchans, spik”

Sportbladets V4-tips – måndag 2 oktober

Foto: LARS JAKOBSSON/KANAL75

Sportbladets travexpert Martin Berg.

Här är dagens tips till loppen på Visby, måndag 2 oktober.

✓ V4-1, 1 620 m auto

1 Cosmanova J.G. – Lundahl E 4 7 8 3 4 16,4a

2 Enor Terdus – Jonasson S d 0 2 3 3 13,5a

3 Skogans Salmiak – Jonsson T 6 d d 2 1 14,3

4 Asfaloth – Hellgren A 0 0 3 4 3 14,1a

5 Walk All Over You – Wanlayaphol N 6 2 1 2 6 14,2a

6 Nikita G.G. – Sjöström C d 0 2 6 8 15,8a

7 Red Red Raz – Andersson T 0 2 0 5 7 14,3a

8 Hotblooded Tooma – Funck A d 0 3 4 8 15,3

9 Cia Magni – Karlsson P 1 0 7 0 0 14,1a

10 Shiraz Chess – Granlund S 0 0 5 0 1 13,7a

11 Ballerine de Fer – Wiman J 3 4 0 3 0 14,7a

12 Digger Sugar – Blixt J Å 5 4 d 1 5 15,5

Rankning: 5–4–3–11–9–6–2–10–8–12–7–1.

Kommentar: Fina villkor för startsnabbe Walk All Over You som gärna springer i ledningen. Men det är en månad sedan senaste starten. Då är formen mer dokumenterad på Asfaloth. Får snart full utdelning. Grundkapaciteten är hög på Skogans Salmiak.

✓ V4-2, 2 620 m

1 Elias Palema – Blixt J Å k k 7 0 0 15,8

2 Fourteenosix – Wiman J 6 6 4 2 0 14,5

3 Speedy Boom Bay – Franzén P d 7 7 6 6 14,8

4 Quechua – Wanlayaphol N d 0 d 0 k 15,5

5 Sergeant Pepper – Karlsson P 0 6 0 2 d 14,1

6 Lotus Exige – Bohman E 0 5 7 0 6 15,1

7 Pretty Woman – Cedergren M 6 0 0 0 0 15,9

8 Assumetoberich – Östergren T 4 1 0 0 0 15,5

9 Magnificent – Rydberg J 6 4 0 0 6 16,1

10 Dencos Nemo Kilab – Lundahl E 5 3 7 0 0 15,5

2 640 meter

11 Antonio Am – Hoas J-Å 0 4 4 2 d 14,0

12 Bäckatorps Hektor – Malmqvist M 0 2 2 0 5 14,3

2 660 meter

13 Arn Hammering – Jonsson T 1 1 1 3 2 13,6

14 Dooleys – Sjöström C 2 2 2 0 2 13,8

Rankning: 13–14–2–11–8–12–5–6–9–10–3–7–4–1.

Kommentar: Kanske inte är en skrattmatch för Arn Hammering, men inte långt ifrån heller. Toppchans! Spik.

✓ V4-3, LD-1, 2 120 m auto

1 Zee Me – Blixt S 0 8 7 3 3 14,9a

2 Mamushka – Blixt J Å 8 8 4 0 0 14,0a

3 Aero U.N.G. – Carlsson S 6 0 5 0 k 13,7a

4 Noomi – Funck A 3 6 4 7 4 14,1

5 Ixia Diago – Bohman E 0 7 0 7 k 15,1a

6 Hurra Käll – Östergren T 6 5 1 7 0 14,2a

7 Lovely Jons – Jonsson T 4 3 1 8 0 14,1a

8 Penelope Face – Martell L 4 5 0 0 2 14,5a

9 Piaff Face – Ottosson D 2 5 5 0 8 14,1a

10 Miss Wood – Lundahl E 0 1 4 6 5 15,0a

11 Bonaire – Fransson M 2 4 0 6 2 14,0a

12 Kyrkebys Rut – Sjöström C 2 8 3 3 1 14,2a

13 Nicegift C.C. – Malmqvist M 0 6 2 2 2 14,8a

14 Lisa Lixarve – Wiman J 0 6 0 6 2 14,3a

15 First Diamond – Karlsson P 0 6 2 0 5 13,7a

Rankning: 12–7–15–10–13–11–14–4–1–6–9–8–3–2–5.

Kommentar: Första strecket, av fyra, till Kyrkebys Rut som kommer från en överlägsen seger. Ser inte mycket värre ut nu.

✓ V4-4, LD-2, 2 120 m auto

1 Copaca Banana – Carlsson S k 1 0 3 4 15,4a

2 Poppen – Karlsson P 0 d 5 4 5 17,3

3 Simone Line – Ottosson D 7 5 5 3 8 15,1a

4 Farina Boko – Hellgren A 0 4 4 0 3 16,4a

5 Wix Pride – Funck A 6 5 2 2 5 14,6a

6 Mistelns Zudersand – Blixt J Å 8 2 0 3 5 17,7

7 Edit Lixarve – Wiman J 6 0 5 0 0 14,9a

8 Irina K. – Sjöström C 0 7 1 2 7 14,6a

9 Simb Zyper – Franzén P 7 7 2 0 0 16,7

10 Sundbo Lilja – Bohman E 2 5 0 0 6 15,8

11 Chiptime – Cedergren M 3 0 1 4 6 15,7a

12 Carmen Brick – Lundahl E 6 5 3 6 0 16,4

13 Star Commander – Malmqvist M 2 d 4 0 3 15,6a

14 Maharania Jons – Jonsson T 4 1 0 2 1 15,6

15 Navajos Chess – Granlund S 2 0 d d 6 14,5a

Rankning: 8–5–14–1–11–15–13–2–6–10–3–12–9–7–4.

Kommentar: Fem streck och segertipset går till Claes Sjöström igen, nu med Irina K. som var stark i dödens senast. Revansch?

✓ SYSTEMFÖRSLAGEN

✓ V4

V4-1: 5–4–3–11–9 (6–2).

V4-2: 13 Arn Hammering (14–2).

V4-3: 12–7–15–10 (13–11).

V4-4: 8–5–14–1–11 (15–13).

100 rader/200 kr.

✓ LUNCHDUBBEL

LD-1: 12 Kyrkebys Rut.

LD-2: 8–5–14–1–11.

5 rader.

2 oktober 2017 02:01

Läs mer om trav hos Trav 365 på Aftonbladet

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snowstcrm · 5 years

Text

The Young Wolf and The Last Dragon

Summary: Daenerys spent her years growing up in the Water Gardens palace of Dorne, hidden away from Robert Baratheon’s wrath and the world. The usurper is dead however, and kings have begun to rise across Westeros to partake in the game of thrones. One lord in particular has been sweeping every enemy in his path in order save his father in Kings Landing, something Doran Martell sees as an opportunity to finally place the Targaryen princess in his care on the Iron Throne. For the first time in her seventeen years of life, Daenerys sails away from her pools and lemon trees in order to marry the Young Wolf in the north and redeem her family’s tarnished name.

Pairing: Robb Stark x Daenerys Targaryen (Robberys)

01 <- 02 -> 03

Chapter 2 - The Young Lord Stark

She had wished Oberyn, Obara, and Nymeria well when they along with two dozen of their men were dropped off a day’s travel to Kings Landing. That had been almost two weeks ago and the ship was still sailing north. It was an exhausting journey to make and perhaps it was a bit childish of her but she had never imagined Westeros to be as large as it was. She studied the maps of course, but to actually travel it was a different experience.

“That must be White Harbor,” Elia Sand’s voice broke the silence as she walked up to the railings to stand beside Daenerys. Elia was merely a year younger than her so they had grown up together, Oberyn’s daughter often coming with him during his visits to the Water Gardens and many times letting her stay there for weeks. They would splash in the pools or run wild on their horses as children, much to their caretakers dismay.

“I understand why now. Everything is made with white stone.” It was an odd experience to see the colour slowly fade from the land, buildings, and the sky the further north they went. Gone were the beautiful summer flowers and trees and colourful birds… “It almost looks like snow.”

“I’ve never seen snow before, but I don’t think that’s what it looks like.” The Sand Snake gave a short bark of laughter before crossing her arms. “Get used to it though. The north is cold and grey. I pray it won’t be your home for long, for my own sake.” Elia had taken the position of being Dany’s secret guard, disguising herself in peasant robes that could pass her off as a servant, and as much as the girl quipped about her duties Daenerys knew that her friend had volunteered herself for the job.

They docked at the harbor, the princess wearing a large grin as her feet touched solid ground for the first time in weeks. Curious violet eyes dashed over the fishermen and merchants milling about on the docks, noticing that they all carried a heavy air around them. It seemed that it wasn’t just cities or nature that lost their colourful life in the north. Her observations of the northmen were cut short when she saw that Silver was being guided down the ramp and onto the dock, Daenerys running up to her mare and petting the horse’s cheek. “The journey must have been rough for you most of all.” She murmured, smiling as she mounted onto her saddle. “You’ll stretch your legs soon enough.”

While the ship left to sail to Kings Landing, the Dornish group escorting Daenerys made their way through White Harbour with no intention of staying in the city. Their focus was reaching the Stark camp as soon as possible. They had not heard word of Oberyn yet, but she suspected he would set whatever plan he had into motion soon and she needed to be in the right place for her to respond and play his advocate to their allies.

They travelled for days, the refreshing feeling of a horseback journey fading as Dany’s thighs and palms became chaffed and sore from riding. She began to appreciate the weeks of their travel by ship, a luxury in comparison. The journey was tedious but they were finally close to arriving at Moat Cailin where she would meet Robb Stark for the first time.

She felt unimaginably nervous as Elia brushed and braided her hair for her on the day that they would be arriving at the castle, the black dye almost completely faded and her Valyrian silver shining through. They would reach their destination that afternoon and she had no way to properly prepare herself with a bath, only able to do the best with what she had taken with them on horseback which was a wash rag and her finest perfume. She stained her lips a sweet red and wore a violet gown she had brought from Dorne with her riding leathers underneath and a heavy black cloak to keep her warm during the ride to their meeting point. She supposed it would have to do. Nothing would help that she was a Targaryen stepping foot into an army full of northerners who would be cautious of her regardless.

Moat Cailin as expected was surrounded by marshlands that held an unpleasant odour, the castle and the lands around it all carrying that same grey tone as the rest of the north she had seen so far. The Dornish travelled up the dirt path to the gates and Daenerys could see a small group of soldiers waiting for them, and even more heads popping up from behind the tops of the walls to scout out the supposed Targaryen princess that had been hidden away from the world.

Their horses came to a stop at the gates, Dany’s heart caught in her throat as her eyes roved across the northmen, her gaze landing on a younger man that finally spoke out in greeting, “It’s good to see you’ve all made it here alive.” He stepped forward, “I am Theon Greyjoy, ward of Lord Eddard Stark. Lord Robb Stark has been waiting for you… Your Grace.” The form of addressment took a moment to slip from his lips, as if he wasn’t sure if it was the right choice to make in regards to her.

“Thank you My Lord. We’re in good health.” She replied, quick to speak up before any of her own guards might step in and shield her from the interaction. He had not given them a welcome, but she would not return the coldness. “By your words I assume that Lord Eddard is still alive. We have not been able to receive word during our travels, so I am most pleased at the news.” She smiled softly, hoping the polite charms would ease the northmen into getting used to her presence. “I hope I have not kept the young Lord Stark waiting for long. I’d be honoured to finally meet the man that has raised his banners against the Lannisters and the Baratheon king.” She felt a shift in the air then, as if there was an understanding that passed through the small group standing in front of her. We have the same enemies, is what she had told them.

She felt the eyes of Eddard’s ward wander over her before meeting hers once more, “And I’d be honoured to guide you. Your men may keep their weapons, but if one draws their blade there will be bloodshed.”

Daenerys nodded, “Of course.”

Silver had been placed in the care of the couple Dornish men that stayed down in the encampment to tend to the group’s horses. Dany’s heart had not calmed down since they arrived at the gates and it only pounded harder when they passed by the many tents, soldiers leering or gawking at the newcomers. They kept walking until they arrived to one of the only tower’s still standing, a large wolf sitting in guard at the entrance. The beast’s eyes were sharp and intelligent, regarding the group before stepping aside to let Theon and the rest of them pass. Her fingers began to tremble with each step they took up the dilapidated building, walking down a dimly lit hall and then finally entering a large room that must have been used for council meetings.

Chairs skidded backwards as the group entered, the sound bouncing off the cold stone walls as the northern lords stood at their arrival. All eyes were on her as Theon led her to stand in front of a long table before he turned to bow his head and removed himself, walking around to stand behind… Robb Stark.

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t the young man with the curly auburn locks and fair eyes standing across from her. His features were young and handsome, the beginnings of a man’s beard growing on his fresh face. He was not much older than her which was something she was aware of before their meeting, but it was still an unusual sight for her to see a teen boy leading an army to war against the king of Westeros.

Robb’s eyes did not leave hers as they all waited in silence for him to speak. His gaze was heavy and intimidating, cold, but she would not bend no matter how unnerved she felt. A dragon did not cower away from a pack of wolves. Instead she smiled while offering him a small bow of her head in respect, and to her relief he finally spoke, “A larger part of me believed it all to be a lie and yet there appears to be a Targaryen princess standing before me.” He kept studying her as he sat back down, all the other lords following suit. “And still it seems almost impossible, that a Targaryen could have survived Robert Baratheon’s wrath.”

His suspicions of her were fair so she parted her lips to reply, taking a moment to word herself well, “My mother died while smuggling me to Sunspear. Almost all the ships were destroyed but Ser Willem Darry brought me the rest of the way to Prince Oberyn Martell who then gave us sanctuary at the Water Gardens. I’ve brought my mother’s crown if you still seek evidence that I am who I say I am.” Whispers spread across the room at the mention of the late queen’s crown, Daenerys only raising her chin at the discomfort she felt. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, and I have just as much reason as you to destroy our common enemies.”

The corner of his lip quirked upward in what could almost be a smirk, his hands interlocked and resting in front of his face. “I imagine so. You’d have many reasons to want vengeance against those that rose in rebellion against your father, and yet you’re here, agreeing to an alliance with a Stark.” He raised an eyebrow, head shifting an inch to the side. “You have no desire to destroy the Starks like the Lannisters and Baratheons?”

She swallowed at the mention of her father. She had spent weeks preparing what she would say for these sorts of question, already aware that they were coming and that they were vital. “It’s true, that the Starks and their bannerman rose up with Robert Baratheon, but it’s also true that my father executed Rickard and Brandon Stark. It’s also true that my brother Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark.” She paused, taking a sharp intake through her nose as blood pounded in her ears. Every eye in the room turned sharp and cold, as if every man was more than willing to slit her throat for speaking the Stark family’s names. You are the blood of the dragon. Be brave. “My father and my brother Rhaegar were cruel men and I can only ask for your forgiveness and for you to not judge a daughter by the crimes of her family. The Mad King may have been my father, but the good queen Rhaella was my mother, and the sweet prince Viserys was my brother, and the innocent Rhaenys and Aegon were my niece and nephew.” Her brows furrowed, a hint of the pain and frustration she felt peeking through her strong expression, “Sharing someone’s blood... is not a sin in itself. I can’t imagine that you agree with the brutal murders of Elia and her children by Lannister henchmen. From my knowledge Lord Eddard took no part in the cruelties against the innocent in my family, so I want to believe that the stories of how honourable he is are true. The relationship between the Stark and Targaryen houses has been deeply scarred. All I ask of you is to give me the chance to show you what we could achieve together.” She took a small step towards the table, violet eyes solely on blue, “Forgive me if I’m wrong my lord, but I think you believe the same. You wouldn’t have taken Dorne as allies into consideration otherwise. You knew what they were asking of you in return.”

There was a heavy silence after she spoke, her fingers twitching at her sides as she held herself back from scouting out the reactions in the room. Robb Stark, just focus on Robb Stark. She reminded herself. She could win over the hearts of the other northern lords with time, but she wouldn’t get the chance if she did not win over Robb.

“This is utter nonsense! The Mad King’s blood has no place in the north!” A gruff voice shouted, many joining in chorus. She felt Elia step close to her, as if preparing to cut down a rogue lord that would charge at Daenerys.

“Leave us.” Robb finally said, loud and above the crowd, and for a moment her stomach dropped because she believed he was speaking to her. She gathered her wits when the northern lords fell silent and exited the room instead, leaving her and her group to stand before Robb and an older woman Daenerys could only assume was his mother. He shared the woman’s hair and eyes.

Robb stood up and rounded the table, followed by his mother who had been studying Daenerys since she first entered the room. He stood in front of her, about an arm’s length away as he began to speak in a tone that was a tad softer than the cold wall he threw in front of her before, “My father is still held prisoner in Kings Landing, my sister is held in the grip of Cersei Lannister and my other sister hasn’t been accounted for. They are my top priority. They are your top priority. We don’t have much time left and two Lannister armies stand in our way. I still intend to cut my way through them… but I don’t know how much time I have left or if my advance south will only trigger my father’s execution.” He stepped closer to her, steadfast, “If Dorne marches from the south and takes Kings Landing while the king’s forces are caught in the north and unable to turn their backs to us, we will win this war. Undoubtedly.”

Though she could tell that he wanted to sound stern and strong, she could sense the urgency and vulnerability of a boy that was forced to lead a war to save his family. She could sense it. “I understand. Oberyn Martell has already infiltrated Kings Landing and knowing my uncle it’s only a matter of time until he acts. I know you fear for your family and we will still march south on the capital, but I trust the capabilities of the Prince of Dorne, the Sand Snakes, and his closest guards more than anyone. They will return your father and sisters to you safely.”

A hint of… something was in his eyes but she could not decipher it. Was it hope? She couldn’t tell because he kept himself guarded when he had to perform the leader. “After- if we win and wed, I assume the Martells intend for you to be in a position to rule. It’d mean I’d have to take the throne. That’s their end desire isn’t it?” The messages the ravens carried had not detailed much, but it wasn’t difficult to put the pieces together. He was rebelling against the crown and the Martells had sent over a princess with bloodclaim to the Iron Throne he was overthrowing.

“The Martells- Doran and Oberyn, they have no desire to rule the other kingdoms. One wants justice and the other just wants their peace and a king… or a queen, that will care for Dorne.” For the first time since they met, she was unable to hold his gaze, her eyes shifting towards his mother and then to Rhaella’s ring Dany always wore on her finger. “You do not have to sit on the throne, but we cannot leave it unclaimed after we remove Joffrey. It’s selfish and would leave the smallfolk with anarchy and make way for an even more terrible king to lay claim. You cannot wage war against a king if you have no intention of being king yourself. Even the Usurper did as much.” She willed herself to raise her head, looking up at the young Stark lord. She had not allowed herself to dwell on it before, but by the gods he was handsome. There was no denying it and she could only imagine how head over heels she would have been if there wasn’t the cold tension of wartime placed between them. “I am prepared to be queen, because that is my duty. What is your duty after Dorne helps you and we win this war together My Lord?”

His mother, Catelyn Tully if Daenerys’ knowledge was correct, turned to Robb as she said in a hushed tone, “You say you want to return to Winterfell, I understand.” She placed a hand on his upper arm, “But the northern lords will only kneel to another northman now. Who better than you, or your future own?” The woman glanced back at Daenerys, visibly wary of the Targaryen girl but interested in what the alliance could offer.

“Mother,” he almost scolded, much like a boy child shushing his oversharing mother. Whatever his opinions on the matter were, his expression made it clear that he’d prefer to talk about it later in private and not in the presence of their new allies. “Help me escort our guests to their sleeping chambers. They have had a long travel.” His gaze fell on Daenerys, challenged but grounded.

Lady Catelyn led Dany’s men down the tower and to the encampment outside where the soldiers would rest while Robb guided her further up Gatehouse Tower with Elia trailing behind them. The walk was quiet for the most part save for the heavier puffs of breath that passed her lips and Daenerys was glad for the much needed break from conversation to recuperate. She felt a bit frazzled as this was the first time she ever had to deal with such a high-stakes meeting all on her own. A feeling of pride swelled in her at the thought. Doran would be proud of her.

When they arrived, Elia stopped and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed as Daenerys and Robb entered the sleeping chambers. The Targaryen princess noted that it was gloomy and the few pieces of furniture were rundown and dusty. Still, it was nicer than sleeping on the cold hard dirt like during their travels here. Even better was the copper basin shoved off to a corner of the room, something she would certainly put to good use.

“These will be your chambers for the time being. Apologies if they’re not up to your standards Your Grace.” He said, not unkind but there was something biting in the way he had worded himself. He was prodding at her, she could tell and her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Surely he was not teasing her?

“I’ve spent many a days playing in mud, climbing trees, and skinning my knees.” She stepped closer to him, only half a meter away now as her head tipped up to look him in those pretty eyes of his, a playful lilt in her voice, “Assuming you know me or my standards is rather familiar of you, but you are forgiven My Lord.” The small smirk on her lips grew into a smile as she tilted her head, egging him on. It was as if the wall placed between them had been knocked down a few stones with the exchange, and for the first time since she had met him she believed that this thing between them could be good instead of just necessary.

She saw it then, the first expression he had given her that was lighter in spirit-- there on his lips lay amusement and there was a glint in his eyes, “You’re far too kind Your Grace.”

One of her guards carrying her leather chest came into the room, walking up from behind her to place the chest at the foot of the bed before bowing to her and leaving her and Robb alone once more. He wasn’t truly gone, probably just waiting a few meters down the hall with Elia.

At the chest’s arrival she was reminded of her gift so she turned away from him, squatting down to unlatch its buckles to dig through her belongings as she replied, “So kind, that I have something for you in fact.” Her hands found the cloth-wrapped dagger and she stood up with it, revealing the ruby and gold encrusted weapon before holding it out to him with her palms. “For you.” She said, nodding her head to encourage him to take it after Robb had frozen at the sight of it. Daenerys knew that she had finally bested him in the tug-o-war they had been playing since they met when she left him speechless. He was not expecting this and was left unprepared. “I truly do appreciate your willingness to accept me Lord Stark. I hope that this alliance will be fruitful for both us and the people of Westeros.”

He reached out with a pensive hand, Daenerys going still when his fingers passed the dagger to instead brush against her wrist, sliding below to then cup her hand. His other moved, fingers wrapping around the dagger to pick it up. His hands left her all at once and allowed her to breathe. It had been such a small form of tentative contact but her face grew hot at the touch, an unexpected fire bursting forth inside her that she tried to quell. His eyes slid from the gift in his hands to her face, his thoughts deep and unreadable to Daenerys.

He held the dagger, rotating it around to study the details and even partly unsheathing it to see the art engraved on the steel. He had been a lord all his life and he had not seen a weapon so ornate and valuable. “Thank you…” This was the type of blade people passed down as heirlooms in their family so why on earth-- then ah, he reminded himself that if things were to go in accordance with the alliance, her children would be his children. She would be his wife and the mother of his children. Was he even ready to be a father? No no, he could not think about that during wartime. It made his heart ache. “May it draw the blood of our enemies, Your Grace.” His words felt clunky and ill-fitting, but he didn’t know what else to say to her that wouldn’t come off as too… familiar, as she had put it. He slid the dagger into his belt and Daenerys nodded, that sweet smile Robb had discovered just moments before making its way back to her face again. He found that he had to keep catching himself from getting too drawn into her entrancing eyes. She was such a jarring presence in the north and to the life he had always known. Her hair was white as snow but there was a fire that was reeling him in, a woman that both held the political and witty tongue of the south and the steadfastness of a northerner.

Daenerys looked from him to over his shoulder where she caught movement at the door, her focus moving from Robb to his mother that arrived. She did not know what to think of the woman yet, but she knew that she must be kindest to her most of all. "My Lady," Daenerys addressed, "Thank you for for helping my men find their tents." She could see that the older woman still found it difficult to respond, but her efforts were clear.

"The pleasure is mine Your Grace." Catelyn smiled before turning her attention to her son. "Robb?" She called to him, wanting him to come along with her so they could finally speak alone.

He nodded before turning back to Daenerys, giving her a once over before saying in a quiet tone, "We can speak more of our war strategies in the morn."

"Thank you Lord Stark. I wish you a good night." There was a hint of laughter on the edge of her voice, amused at the the stiffness that returned to his shoulders at the presence of someone else with them.

His lips parted, sucking in a breath as if to reply but it never came. He could only watch her for a bit longer before he willed himself to simply nod and turn away, walking towards his mother and exiting the sleeping chambers together, leaving Daenerys to herself.

The silence of being alone only lasted for a few moments until Elia gave a knock at the already open door and letting herself in. “You know, this all went better then I thought it would.” The comment was said with a tilt of the head, arms crossing as the Sand Snake stayed stern, not allowing her guardedness to give way to ease.

Daenerys gave a light shake of her head as she removed her black cloak and tossed it on the bed, “The difficulties are yet to come. Creating alliances is easy. It’s winning over the opinions of those that follow Lord Stark that is my concern. You saw how they looked at me, how they defied my presence in their land. I imagine many aren’t pleased with me, and even Robb for his decision.” She met Elia’s eyes, gaze stern and telling, “Now we must find out what’s stronger: the northerners detest for House Targaryen or their loyalty to House Stark.” Daenerys moved to stand closer to the girl, placing a gentle but sure hand on her shoulder, “I find myself trusting Robb but I am wary of the northern lords. We can’t allow them to disrupt this alliance. Do keep eyes on them.”

The younger, but taller girl’s expression was hard as she nodded, “I know. I will.”

“Thank you. Having you here with me has made all the difference.” Daenerys let out a sigh, releasing Elia’s shoulder and making way for a lighter conversation. Her head turned to the basin and she gave a tired smile, “Our journey was long. Let’s have some water heated and wash away the grime of our travels. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a proper bath.”

Robb closed the heavy oak door to his chambers, taking a deep breath and letting his shoulders lax as he turned to face his mother. “I’m doing what I have to- to save father and the girls--” he defended himself, already prepared to hear his mother’s personal feelings on his decision to create this alliance. She had already voiced her concerns during the initial messages they received by raven.

“I know.” She was calm, reassurance in her words and eyes. “It was necessary. If what Doran Martell says is true, then you’ve more than doubled your men and now have an army stationed in the south.” She sighed, closing her eyes and taking a step backwards to sit on the edge of the bed, “To think a Targaryen heir had survived all these years.” Her head shook side to side, long auburn locks swaying. “There were rumours of the queen giving birth before dying but never any proof. Now a woman grown has appeared with her eyes on the Iron Throne.”

Robb’s fingers curled and uncurled at his sides, a pause hanging between him and his mother as he mulled over all that’s happened. “Dorne intends to make her queen. I am to wed her-- I’ll have to stay in Kings Landing.” What had his life become? Mere months ago he was home at Winterfell with his family at peace and now he was waging a war with no prospects of returning home in the end. It didn’t matter, he decided. Not now at least. He must save his family first, no matter the cost or sacrifice at his own expense. The war wouldn’t end once he uprooted the Lannisters though, that much he was aware of. Claiming northern independence would have still caused issues whether it had been Stannis, Renly, or Tywin that would eventually come to try and reconquer the north for the crown, but claiming the Iron Throne and becoming king of Westeros was a completely different beast. He’d have to crush every other man that opposed him as king… Robb would be at war for years to come. He wanted to pound his fists against the wall, where or where had his childhood gone?

Catelyn looked off through the window, keeping her heart distant as if to shield it from anymore grief. Robb taking the Iron Throne would be an achievement like no other for not only House Stark, but for all the north that felt wronged by the crown, and yet she knew that her son-- her little boy just wanted his family safe and his home in Winterfell. “You are a Stark but are also a Tully.” She looked to her son, reciting her house words, “Family, duty, honour.” There was a silence again as her mind drifted to the Targaryen girl, mysterious and stunning. Catelyn could not believe her eyes when she first saw her. “She’s very beautiful,” she commented, giving a half shrug as she tried to lift Robb’s mood. “It’s too early to say, but she seems gentle and well-mannered. It… would be easy for you to love her.” Never in her life would Catelyn imagine that she’d end up here, trying to encourage her son to warm up to the daughter of the man who killed her betrothed all those years ago. They all must do what they had to, and this was her part.

There was a hint of a smile on Robb’s face, but he looked conflicted and tired, “Aye it would be.” She’d be easy to love, but should he? Should he allow himself to fall into those violet depths and embrace their marriage when her family had harmed his beyond repair? He knew the history and he felt strong ties to the Starks he never had a chance to love, but it was hard to keep a cold heart over a generation past when a stunning woman showed up at his doorstep with an army prepared to help him win a war. He felt guilt for wanting to run his calloused hand over her silky wrist once more. He either disrespected the ghosts of his house by allowing himself to love Daenerys, or he unfairly gave her a loveless marriage because she shares a name with cruel men she never knew. “Love would be easy with her. Everything else is what worries me.” He walked over to the small window, raising his forearm against the wall and leaning his weight against it. “I do not fancy politics.”

Catelyn stood up and walked over to her son, the encampment coming into her view below them. “No, but perhaps there won’t be much of it at the end of all of this. We already intend to remove the Lannisters. If the Baratheons oppose the Targaryen girl then so be it. We’ll remove them as well. We will have the north, the riverlands, the Vale on account of my sister, Dorne, and the capital. The Baratheon brothers would have the Reach and the stormlands left and they’d still have to fight for claim amongst themselves.”

Robb’s fingers ran across the ornate hilt of the gifted dagger at his hip, mind going numb as he dived deeper into the intricacies of it all. No, a voice of simple clarity broke through the fog then, you conquer it all or you lose everything. Those were his only two options. His mother’s voice reminded him that if you lose… your father dies, your sisters die, we die.

The answer was still as simple as it was before.

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#my writing #the young wolf and the last dragon #my posts #robb stark #daenerys targaryen #game of thrones #whoop whoop here it is!!#i tried my best #im new to writing political shit so hhhh forgive me lmao

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