#Lewyn martell

[dorneuniverse]

My uncle always said that it was the sword in a man's hand that determined his worth, not the one between his legs.

MARTELL WEEK 2024: Day 1 - Favorite (underrated) Martell

[tell-them-the-north-remembers]

Okay but do you all ever wonder what Lewyn Martell thought about Elia marrying into the Targaryen family, being plunged amongst the chaos of the court he knew so well? How did he, a Dornish man, a Martell Prince feel when his king refused to touch his niece's daughter because she "smelled Dornish" while his niece was bedridden for months after giving birth to her? What was it like feeling his dead sister's hands on his shoulder, knowing that he was the only one Elia could wholly trust in this city far from home, knowing he needed to protect her or nobody else would? What did he think when Rhaegar named Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty in front of Elia, an insult to his niece, an insult to his house, to his family? What did he think when the war broke out and Elia and her children were kept as hostages so he would have to secure Dorne's support for the Targaryens? In his final moments on the Trident did he think that his sister would hold him accountable when he arrived at her side, ask why he couldn't protect her daughter? Did it eat him up from the inside to know that one day the Mad King could give a command that would harm Elia in such a way that he would have no choice but not to obey?

[dornedaily]

What if Elia and Doran were age swapped?

Elia is the heiress to Sunspear and Dorne.

She is educated to rule. Who she marries will be Prince consort of Dorne. In any marriage negotiations, she is the best party. As future ruler of Dorne, she cannot marry another kingdom's heir because that would mean political fusion of two kingdoms. She can marry a second or third-born son of a Great house at most, though that is very unlikely (Ned and Cat only happened because of the Southron ambitions).

It becomes highly unlikely Elia marries Rhaegar, as he is crown prince. It would mean a stronger grip by the Targaryens on Dorne, and that the line of succession of Dorne passes on to the Targaryens, possibly handing actual administration and ruling of Dorne to the Targaryens/the Iron Throne, with no ruling from Sunpear (maybe a regional governor which executes the Iron Throne's wishes). If she somehow marries Rhaegar (say the Targaryens were desperate because they couldn't find a spouse with "dragonblood"), then the unnamed Princess of Dorne has the upper hand and can impose her conditions. To prevent Dorne's assimilation into the Iron Throne, she would likely repeat the conditions agreed upon for Myriah Martell's betrothal to the future Daeron II: although Myriah is older than Maron and was meant to inherit Dorne, Maron did and it is his line that succeeded. The Targaryen line from Myriah and Daeron II has no right when it comes to the Dornish line of succession.

In this scenario, Elia is also over a decade older than Rhaegar which means that she would be considered being closer towards the end of her childbearing years and potentially having more difficulty to conceive. However, 1) bringing child(ren) into the world is one of the main "duties" of a woman when she marries into the ruling house 2) even more so when the Targaryen line is in decline (the initial reason the Targaryens seeked a wife for Rhaegar far and wide). Her being older further means she can already be married by the time Rhaegar is of age. And even if she isn't, there is no reason for the unnamed Princess of Dorne to want to marry her firstborn to Rhaegar and change everything so Elia can marry him/lose her right to Sunspear and hand it to Doran who is younger and therefore less experienced by that time.

Doran is living a secondborn child life. He can marry who he pleases if no arrangement has been made by his mother before. He can be a counsellor to Elia, ruling Princess. He can live without grieving Elia or hatching a plan against the Lannisters.

By the time ASOIAF starts, Dorne is not eaten by a "vengeance, justice, fire and blood" mantra. The whole Dornish plot as we know it does not exist.

It is not clear if Lewyn joined the Kingsguard as part of the agreement for Elia's betrothal to Rhaegar or if he was a Kingsguard before. If he was already a Kingsguard, then he ends up fighting for the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion because it is his duty. If not and only joined the Kingsguard in relation to Elia's betrothal, then in the scenario of Elia and Doran's ages were swapped, he is not a Kingsguard and he can be living his life in Dorne as knight.

[princessnysar]

Princess Sarra Nymeros Martell daughter of prince Lewyn and Lady Jeyne Swann, sister of Alysanne and Qoren, cousin of Queen Elia and her lady in waiting

Mother of two children, Lady Daelia Sand born from a Lyseni trader and Lady Amissa Sand whose father a Qorgyle

[stannis-the-freaking-mannis]

aerys ii’s kingsguard 💅💅 also i wrote that gerold hightower is gerold dayne😭 (darkstar core🗡️🥀🚬⛓️)

[stromuprisahat]

#you know aerys ii's kingsguard had better things to do than tell on lewyn 😭

the virgin kingsguard of jaehaerys i telling on lucamore and his wives and children vs the chad kingsguard of aerys ii never caring prince lewyn had a paramour

[wistfulwatcher]

@lewyn-martell KJA;LFKDJA;FK THANK YOU FOR THIS

i felt personally attacked by that scene!! blatant mistynatphobia in giving that to WALTER of all people. this will not stand.

[shinixgami]

chapter 312 😊🤌

okay i will do it thank u for asking

[tavolgisvist]

1

Love, love, love...

2

'Cause I'm happy just to dance with you

3

Sorry if we hurt your field, Mister

gif by panda-pal

4

Hela, heba helloa!

5

We’re Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

6

If I fell in love with you...

7

No one, I think, is in my tree

gif by bulletsfor1999 gif by pennielane

8

There beneath the blue suburban skies I sit...

... with a bottle of wine!

9

Leopold and Loeb vibes

10

Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl

gif by sgt-paul gif by lewyn-martell

11

-Valiant Paul McCartney, I presume? -Sir Jasper Lennon, I presume?

gif by javelinbk

[swordsandarms]

"Why did Rhaegar leave a whole THREE Kingsguards with Lyanna? Why did he leave Jaime, A CHILD, to PROTECT his family? Why wasn't Arthur, a DORNISH man, with Elia?"

These or other individual questions about the Kingsguards during the Rebellion era keep coming up every now and then. Usually, it concerns questioning Rhaegar's motivations, sometimes even Jaime's morality or culpability, as well as the morality of said Kingsguards.

But I was having a conversation with some fans and it comes down to the same issue: no one considers the Targaryen politics at the time, and fragment these circumstances in shallow bits and pieces, naturally, coming down to "there's no good explanation for this!"

Everyone hates that these two Targaryen men have genuine character complexity, especially in rapport with eachother: Rhaegar and Aerys.

Let's go over the Kingsguard at the end of Aerys' reign, and actually consider allegiance and what the mean, and how those would actually easily explain a lot-

Jon Darry, Darry cousin: unclear loyalty, when it comes down to the Aerys-Rhaegar conflict. Darrys are without a doubt Targaryen men, but we don't know if and who they would choose. Darrys are most of all connected with Viserys and Rhaella, who are very sheltered from the rest of the world all the same. Darrys might have been sideline in the Aerys-Rhaegar conflict by such default then, and eventually Jon would be sent to the Trident anyway. But then again, unquestionable loyalty to House Targaryen sounds like a traditionalist approach.

Arthur Dayne: Rhaegar's man without a doubt. His oldest and closest friend.

Oswell Whent: Rhaegar's man. He's with him at the Tower and rumours are his family conspired alongside him to get the Lords at Harrenhal to stage Aerys' usurpation.

Gerold Hightower, Comander: King's (Aerys') man. The scene at the King's doors is often brought up in discussions about the ethics of the KG. But it actually also unveils a key political information within the Aerys-Rhaegar factions. Whether it's a matter of adhering to the status quo only, or personal allegiance to Aerys as well, the message is clear: even when it's between two royals, it's the King he will stand by, no matter what, even when he's not in the right (and if his son tries to usurp him, then technically he is).

Barristan Selmy: Barristan undergoes a character development during the main series in which he finally questions unquestionable allegiance to a King no matter their morality. A past Barristan, however, would then resemble a Ser Gerold, and be in the King's (Aerys) service before anything by virtue of duty. Notably, he would later reflect that Rhaegar did not find him fit to be in his confidence, and these expectations are probably why.

Lewyn Martell: Easily Elia's and Rhaegar's man, and Dornish. Noted as being in his confidence.

Jaime Lannister: One that causes a lot of controversy. A lot of back and forth discussion as to what expectations Rhaegar had of Jaime (and whether Jaime himself fulfilled them). The answer can actually be seen easily by:

1. Looking at it with the awareness that there was a faction divide existed in the KG in between Aerys and Rhaegar, as it was building up to a conflict and hence-

2. Reading their last conversation with that in mind

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. “Your Grace,” Jaime had pleaded, “let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine."

Prince Rhaegar shook his head. “My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour.”

Jaime’s anger had risen up in his throat. “I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard.”

“Then guard the king,” Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. “When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey.”

Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but … well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.”

For one, Jaime is the last KG left in King's Landing, and one to be kept close to Aerys himself. And Rhaegar is taking him into his confidence before he leaves - he is pretty much talking treason, hinting at usurpation upon his return.

Why did he leave Jaime, A CHILD, to PROTECT his family?

First of all, he doesn't leave Jaime himself in that post. As seen above, Aerys calls the shots. We know from the Ice and Fire "history book" that he sent Lewyn away from Elia as well for being Dornish (while before he was stationed with her and the kids on Dragonstone in Rhaegar's absence) and he commands Jaime to stay. As it appears, he also sends Darry and Selmy with him (with Selmy being a traditionalist at the time, it may even be to keep an eye on Rhaegar).

Rhaegar doesn't have a choice of whom to ask to look out for Elia and the children, no matter which KG would've been in town. He makes that clear. And as to expectations he has of the only one left and whom he can have a word with, while Jaime is, yes, by all means considered a grown man in their society AND a capable soldier who's well trained and already been in combat, he's not asking for Jaime to stand between his family and an army or anything.

There's not meant to be an army. That's meant to be Rhaegar's job to prevent. He's going out to battle. He's meant to give Robert a honorable single combat, prove himself as strong and fair - unlike the mockery of a "trial by combat" Aerys gave Rickard. Hence prove himself unlike his father first of all, probably give his explanations about Lyanna, and also make it clear he's against Aerys' actions and wanting to give the justice by deposing him.

No, Rhaegar isn't irresponsible, dumping that burden on younger Jaime. He does the responsible thing of taking all that upon himself. What does he expect of Jaime? As read above, he does not put Jaime in the mindset of a fighting machine that's supposed to save his family from anything unrealistic. He puts him in the mindset of someone who would be his man and oppose Aerys when the time comes - he's meant to be the one threat to his family when the chips fall down and he is taking the throne.

Whatever reading Rhaegar did of Jaime, he thought he could say those words to him (that would've been dangerous if he were wrong), that Jaime would have it in him to turn against Aerys (again not some ridiculous expectation - a frail man). And Rhaegar is clearly not dumb. He was right in his perception, wasn't he? (Is this where Jon Snow gets his amazing perceptive skills - "little his eyes do not see").

Why wasn't Arthur, a DORNISH man, with Elia?

Why would he be allowed to? We've already established Aerys calls the shots. And among them there's one KG specifically being sent away because he's Dornish and hence loyal to Elia (and Rhaegar). If Lewyn couldn't be there, why would Arthur?

Why did Rhaegar leave a whole THREE Kingsguards with Lyanna?

That is something I couldn't understand for a long time, too. Not only the specific number, but the fact that clearly Rhaegar can't just do whatever he wants with the Kingsguard. Why was this allowed?

It doesn't make sense until you go back to the Aerys-Rhaegar allegiance divide above. The three are Gerold (most loyal Aerys appears to have) and Arthur and Oswell (most loyal Rhaegar appears to have).

Gerold came from King's Landing to take Rhaegar. Oswell and Arthur would have already been with him. Either-

1. Gerold was sent with the order to stay behind with Lyanna. Aerys already took hold of Elia and the kids to control Dorne (and Rhaegar) and would have her in the hands of his most obedient man, too. Rhaegar cannot let that happen, as he plans to turn against Aerys while he's away. If he can't send Gerold away, he makes the compromise of leaving two of his own. One only would have been uncertain odds, but if Gerold eventually acts up when things unravel, he's outnumbered. Arthur and Oswell can do what they have to do and they are in an isolated location and can lie about it later to protect their honor.

2. Gerold wasn't meant to stay behind. But since Rhaegar is decided to depose Aerys, removing him from Aerys is an opportunity. Aerys/Gerold can be lured with the illusion of having a hold on Lyanna. Rhaegar had to leave someone (trustworthy) with her regardless but compromises his own numbers for the same reasoning above, if it means removing a barrier from between him and Aerys. Aerys would be blindsided in allowing in from that same perspective: Rhaegar is made to leave crucial allies behind.

[novaursa]

The Price of Fire (10)

- Summary: In the shadows of the Red Keep, the daughter of the Mad King, Princess Y/N Targaryen, finds herself caught between duty, love, and survival. As her father’s madness deepens and political intrigue swirls, she seeks solace in a forbidden romance with her sworn protector, Ser Arthur Dayne. With King Aerys plotting to use her as a pawn and her brother Rhaegar maneuvering to shield her from their father’s grasp, Y/N must navigate a web of deceit and desire. As tensions rise, secrets ignite into fierce passion and dangerous alliances, where the wrong move could mean the end of them all.

- Paring: targ!reader/Arthur Dayne

- Note: For all previous chapters visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (Aerys is warning on his own)

- Word count: 10 000+

- Previous part: 9

- Next part: 11

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @onlyrealjoy @hajmola-vs-aamchaska @alyssa-dayne

The carriage comes to a gentle halt in the courtyard of the Red Keep, its wheels settling into the grooves worn into the cobblestones by countless arrivals before you. The imposing walls of the keep rise around you, their ancient stone darkened by time and shadowed by the encroaching dusk. The sound of distant voices and the clatter of armor echoes faintly in the cool evening air as you prepare to disembark.

You reach out to steady your mother, Queen Rhaella, as she begins to step down from the carriage. Though she carries herself with the grace and dignity befitting a queen, you can feel the frailty in her movements, the toll that years of stress and sorrow have taken on her. You offer her a reassuring smile as you help her descend, your hands firm and steady on her arm.

Rhaegar approaches as soon as you and your mother are on solid ground. His expression is warm, though there is a tightness around his eyes that betrays the tension he feels. He offers his arm to both of you, a gesture that is as much about solidarity as it is about etiquette.

"Let me escort you inside," Rhaegar says, his voice soft and filled with affection as he addresses both you and Rhaella.

You and your mother each take one of his arms, the three of you moving together as one as you begin the walk toward the entrance of the Red Keep. The evening shadows lengthen as you approach the towering gates, the flickering torchlight casting an almost ethereal glow on the stone walls. Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Lewyn Martell follow closely behind, their presence a comforting constant as you cross the threshold into the keep. Behind them, your retainers trail in respectful silence, their loyalty a silent testament to the devotion they share with your family.

As you enter the keep, you notice Ser Barristan Selmy standing just inside the gate, his white cloak gleaming in the dim light. He nods in greeting to Ser Arthur as the Kingsguard exchange a silent acknowledgment, a mutual respect passing between them. It’s a small, unspoken reassurance in this place where alliances and loyalties are everything.

The familiar, almost oppressive atmosphere of the Red Keep envelops you as you walk deeper into the castle. The stone walls, draped with banners bearing the sigil of House Targaryen, seem to close in around you, a constant reminder of the weight of your family’s legacy. The corridors are lined with guards and servants, all bowing or curtsying as you pass, their eyes downcast in deference.

As you reach the doors to the throne room, they swing open with a loud creak, revealing the vast chamber beyond. The Iron Throne looms at the far end of the room, its jagged, twisted swords gleaming malevolently in the torchlight. But it is not the throne that captures your attention. It is Terrax, who soars in through the open front gates of the throne room with a powerful beat of his wings.

The dragon’s arrival sends a ripple of shock through the courtiers and guards gathered in the room. He lands with a resounding thud on the stone floor, his claws scraping against the ancient stones as he surveys the room with his golden eyes. The nobles gathered near the edges of the room shrink back, their fear visible, but they dare not move or speak as Terrax strides confidently across the chamber.

Terrax circles the Iron Throne once, his gaze fixed on the twisted metal that makes up the seat of power, before he curls himself behind it. His form coils protectively around the base of the throne, his scales glinting in the firelight as he settles into place. The sight is both awe-inspiring and terrifying, a living embodiment of the power and danger that House Targaryen represents.

King Aerys stands at the foot of the Iron Throne, his eyes wide with a manic sort of wonder as he watches the dragon. His entire being seems to be transfixed by Terrax, as if the dragon’s presence has awakened something deep within him, something ancient and primal.

Pycelle, the Grand Maester, steps forward hesitantly, his voice trembling slightly as he addresses the king. "Your Grace," he begins cautiously, "what would you have us do about the dragon?"

Aerys tears his gaze away from Terrax just long enough to glare at Pycelle, his expression one of barely contained irritation. "Do?" he repeats, his voice rising with a touch of hysteria. "What is there to do? My child will remain here, where it belongs, with the throne. The dragon is ours—mine—born of my blood. It will stay here and guard what is rightfully ours."

The court falls silent at Aerys’s proclamation, the tension in the room thick enough to be cut with a knife. No one dares to question the king, not in this moment when his mood is so volatile, and when the dragon itself seems to be a physical manifestation of his unstable power.

Rhaegar, sensing the growing danger, steps forward with a calm, measured grace. His voice is soft, but firm, as he speaks. "Father, if I may, it would be wise to allow Y/N and Mother to rest after their journey. I will stay here with you, but they should be escorted to their quarters."

Aerys’s eyes flicker with a mixture of emotions—possession, suspicion, perhaps even a fleeting hint of concern—but he nods slowly, as if reluctantly agreeing to Rhaegar’s suggestion. "Very well," he says, though his gaze remains fixed on Terrax. "But the dragon stays."

Rhaegar turns to Ser Arthur, who has remained by your side throughout the entire exchange, his expression stoic and unyielding. "Ser Arthur," Rhaegar instructs quietly, "escort Y/N and our mother to their quarters. Ensure they are safe and that they rest."

Arthur nods, his eyes briefly meeting yours, a silent understanding passing between you. "At once, my prince," he replies, his tone respectful yet firm.

You can feel Aerys’s gaze shifting toward you, his eyes dark and unreadable, and you know that staying any longer would only draw more of his dangerous attention. You give Rhaegar a brief nod of gratitude, your heart heavy with the knowledge of what he must endure alone in the throne room with your father.

As you and your mother begin to make your way out of the chamber, escorted by Ser Arthur and Ser Lewyn, you cast one last glance back at Terrax. The dragon’s golden eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you feel the bond between you flare to life, a connection that is both comforting and unsettling. You know that he will remain vigilant, guarding the Iron Throne as if it were his own lair.

As the doors to the throne room close behind you, sealing off the chaos and danger that lingers within, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The corridors of the Red Keep are just as dark and foreboding as they were when you first arrived, but now they feel even more suffocating, the weight of your family’s legacy pressing down on you like never before.

Arthur walks beside you, his presence a safe rock in the storm of your thoughts. "We’ll have you and the queen settled soon," he says quietly, his voice filled with the unspoken promise of protection.

The throne room is an oppressive cavern of iron and stone. Aerys stands before the Iron Throne, his eyes alight with a madness that has grown too familiar to those who linger in the Red Keep. He stares, enraptured, at the coiled form of Terrax. The beast’s tail twitches, sending a metallic clang through the chamber as it strikes one of the many swords that make up the grotesque chair. Courtiers whisper among themselves, though none dare to approach too closely, as if the heat of the dragon’s breath might sear their very souls.

Rhaegar remains still, a silent observer to the twisted scene unfolding before him. His face betrays nothing, though a storm brews behind his eyes. The presence of Terrax is both a comfort and a threat—Aerys’ fascination with the dragon, and by extension, with you, has only deepened. But Rhaegar knows that it is a dangerous game his father plays, one that could consume them all in flames if they are not careful.

From the shadows, Varys appears, his footsteps eerily silent as he approaches Rhaegar. The spymaster’s presence is like a chill breeze through the room, unnoticed by most but not by Rhaegar. He feels the man's gaze, probing and calculating.

"Your father seems most taken with the dragon, my prince," Varys murmurs, his voice a smooth whisper. "It is said that dragons are a power unlike any other."

Rhaegar does not turn to look at the Spider, keeping his focus on the throne, where Aerys continues to mutter incoherently, his hands twitching with a madness that grows more consuming with each passing day. "Power can be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands," Rhaegar replies, his tone carefully measured. "And my father’s hands have long since been bloodied by his madness."

Varys inclines his head slightly, as if considering Rhaegar's words. "Indeed, madness and power are a volatile mix. But Terrax... he seems to respond to a different kind of strength, does he not?"

The implication in Varys’s words is clear, and Rhaegar finally turns to face the spymaster. "You know more than you let on, as always," he says quietly, a warning in his voice. "But do not presume to understand everything that transpires between the dragon and my family."

Varys offers a slight smile, but there is no warmth in it. "Of course not, my prince. My only concern is the safety of the realm, and of those who might steer it towards prosperity... or ruin."

Before Rhaegar can respond, Aerys’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and manic. "Bring me a prisoner from the Black Cells!" the king commands, his tone one of gleeful anticipation. "Let the dragon gorge on traitor’s blood!"

Rhaegar’s stomach twists at the order, though he knows better than to object openly. Aerys’s gaze is wild, and the fire in his eyes betrays his obsession—he sees the dragon as his own, a beast to wield as he pleases. But Rhaegar knows that Terrax’s loyalty lies elsewhere, and it is a bond that Aerys can never fully comprehend.

Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime, and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower exchange wary glances but move swiftly to obey the king’s order. Jaime is the first to step forward, his golden hair catching the dim light as he bows. "At once, Your Grace," he says, his voice steady despite the unease that flickers in his eyes.

As the Kingsguard move to carry out Aerys's command, Rhaegar forces himself to remain still. His mind races, searching for a way to diffuse the situation without inciting his father's wrath. But he knows that any overt action could draw suspicion, not just towards himself, but towards you as well. And that is a risk he cannot take.

Varys lingers by his side, his presence a constant reminder of the many eyes and ears that serve the realm—or perhaps just themselves. "There are many who would find such a display... unsettling," Varys says, his voice low and carefully neutral. "But perhaps it serves a purpose. To remind the realm of the power that lies within these walls."

Rhaegar’s jaw tightens. "Or to show the realm just how far the madness has spread," he replies, his voice edged with a quiet defiance.

Aerys, oblivious to the quiet exchange, claps his hands together, a grotesque smile spreading across his lips as he waits for the prisoner to be brought forth. Terrax shifts behind the throne, his eyes narrowing as if he senses the tension in the room. The dragon’s tail flicks again, more agitated this time, and Rhaegar feels the beast’s unease resonate within him. 

When the prisoner is finally dragged into the throne room, a man broken and emaciated from weeks in the Black Cells, Aerys’s eyes light up with a deranged glee. "Feed him to the dragon!" the king commands, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls.

Terrax shifts slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watches the man approach. The dragon’s nostrils flare, catching the scent of fear in the air, and a low, rumbling growl emanates from deep within his chest. The sound sends a shiver through the courtiers, causing them to step back even further, pressing themselves against the walls as if distance could protect them from what is to come.

Aerys steps away from the throne, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving the prisoner. There is a twisted excitement in his eyes, a hunger that Rhaegar has seen too many times before. The king continues to move, approaching the man with the deliberate steps of a predator stalking its prey. The prisoner falls to his knees, trembling, his hands clasped together in desperate supplication.

“Mercy, my king,” the prisoner pleads, his voice hoarse and cracked. “Mercy, I beg of you.”

Aerys pauses before him, a cruel smile curling his lips. “Mercy?” he echoes, his voice cold and mocking. “Mercy is for the weak. I offer you something far greater. I offer you the chance to serve your king, to feed his dragon, and in doing so, become part of something far more powerful than yourself.”

The prisoner’s eyes widen in horror as he realizes what Aerys means, but before he can protest further, Aerys turns to Terrax, his arms outstretched as if presenting the man as an offering. “Feast, my child,” he commands, his voice ringing through the throne room. “Feast and grow strong.”

Rhaegar watches, his heart heavy with a mix of disgust and helplessness, as Terrax uncoils from behind the throne, his eyes locked on the prisoner. The dragon’s maw opens slowly, revealing rows of sharp teeth, and in that moment, Rhaegar sees the man’s fate sealed.

There is a sickening sound as Terrax lunges, the prisoner’s scream cut short as the dragon’s jaws close around him. The courtiers gasp, some turning away, others frozen in horrified fascination. The king’s laughter echoes through the room, a sound devoid of sanity, and Rhaegar forces himself to remain still, to not react, though every instinct in him screams to do something, anything, to stop this madness.

But he does not. He cannot.

And so he watches, as the dragon burns and devours the man whole, his father’s laughter still ringing in his ears, a sound that he knows will haunt him for the rest of his days.

The familiar scent of your chambers washes over you as you step inside, the memories of a childhood spent within these walls flooding back all at once. The bed is as you remember it, draped in rich, crimson silk, the golden Targaryen sigil embroidered upon the pillows. Your fingers brush against the soft fabric as you move past, seeking comfort in the familiar texture, but there is little solace to be found in these old comforts. The echoes of what happened in the throne room only hours before still cling to your thoughts, refusing to be banished by the simple act of returning to your old room.

Arthur is with you, as he always is, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your life. He stands by the door, his silver-white cloak a stark contrast against the dark wood, his eyes watching you with the quiet intensity that you’ve come to know so well. For a moment, the two of you are silent, the only sound the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth, its warmth doing little to chase away the chill that has settled deep in your bones.

He steps closer, his brow furrowed, and you can see the concern etched into his features. "Y/N," he begins, his voice low, "I know the journey has been long, but there are things—"

The door to your chambers swings open suddenly, cutting Arthur off mid-sentence. Rhaegar enters, his face pale and drawn, his violet eyes wide with something that looks dangerously close to fear. He stops just inside the threshold, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a moment, the two of you simply stare at one another, the unspoken tension between you heavy in the air.

Arthur takes a step back, glancing between you and Rhaegar. "My prince—" he begins, but Rhaegar raises a hand, his voice firm though it trembles with an edge of something darker.

"Leave us, Ser Arthur," Rhaegar says, his tone brooking no argument. "I need to speak with my sister alone."

Arthur hesitates, his eyes searching yours as if seeking permission or reassurance. You nod, though the unease curling in your stomach warns you that something is terribly wrong. He bows his head slightly, a look of reluctance in his eyes as he turns and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The silence that follows is suffocating, the crackling fire the only sound in the chamber. You can feel the tension rolling off your brother in waves, and before you can stop yourself, you hear it—a voice in the back of your mind, slithering through your thoughts like a serpent.

"You're in for it now," the voice says, followed by a low, mocking cackle that sends a shiver down your spine.

You flinch, your hand instinctively gripping the edge of the bedpost as you force the voice into the recesses of your mind, trying to focus on Rhaegar. The dread that pools in your stomach is only amplified by the voice’s presence, and it takes everything in you to push past it.

"Rhaegar," you say softly, stepping closer to him. "What happened?"

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his eyes downcast, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. When he finally looks up at you, there’s a haunted look in his eyes, one that you’ve never seen before, not even in the darkest moments of his life.

"Aerys," he begins, his voice raw, "Father... he... he brought a prisoner from the Black Cells. He..." Rhaegar struggles to find the words, and the sight of him like this, so shaken, so unlike the composed and regal brother you know, sends a spike of fear through your heart. 

He takes a breath, steadying himself, but the tremor in his voice remains. "He fed the man to Terrax," he says at last, the words falling heavily between you, like stones into a dark, bottomless well.

The room seems to spin for a moment, the horror of what he’s said sinking into your mind. You can feel the blood drain from your face as you try to comprehend the enormity of it, the sheer brutality of the act. "He… what?" you whisper, disbelief laced with a growing sense of dread.

Rhaegar turns away, his hands coming to rest on the back of a chair, gripping it tightly as though to ground himself. "He laughed, Y/N. He laughed as Terrax devoured the man whole." His voice cracks, and for the first time, you see the cracks in the armor your brother wears so carefully. "It was madness. Utter madness."

The voice in your head stirs again, murmuring something unintelligible, and you force it down, focusing instead on the here and now, on Rhaegar, who looks as though the weight of the world is crushing him.

"Rhaegar," you say again, more firmly this time, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. He flinches slightly at your touch but doesn’t pull away. "We’ll figure this out. We always do. But right now, you need to breathe. You need to think clearly."

He shakes his head, his grip on the chair tightening until his knuckles are white. "How can I think clearly, Y/N, when our father is descending deeper into madness with each passing day? How can I protect you, or anyone, from what he’s becoming?"

The vulnerability in his voice is almost unbearable, and you find yourself stepping closer, until there’s barely any space between you. "You’re not alone in this, Rhaegar," you say softly, trying to soothe the storm raging within him. "But you mustn't lose yourself to his madness. You have to stay strong."

He looks at you then, truly looks at you, and you can see the battle waging within him—the conflict between the man who wants to protect his family and the prince who feels helpless in the face of his father’s tyranny. Slowly, he nods, as if drawing some strength from your words, though you can still see the shadows lingering in his eyes.

"I’ll try," he says at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I fear... I fear what he might do next. And I fear that I won’t be able to stop it."

You wish you could offer him more reassurance, something to banish the fear that haunts both of you. But all you can do is stand by him, as you always have, and hope that it will be enough.

Rhaegar’s hand covers yours, a silent gesture of shared strength, and for a moment, the two of you stand there in the dim light of your chambers, the weight of the world pressing down on both of you, but together, you hold it at bay.

The silence that falls between you and Rhaegar is heavy, laden with unspoken fears and shared burdens. You can feel the tension in his posture, the way his fingers still tremble slightly even as he tries to steady himself. The flickering light of the fire casts long silhouettes across the room, dancing on the walls like specters of the past, and you know that this moment, this fragile peace between you, is as fleeting as those shadows.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, as the weight of what you’ve been hiding presses down on you, demanding release. The nightmares have been your secret, your burden alone, but you can’t keep them from Rhaegar any longer. Not when everything else seems to be unraveling.

"Rhaegar," you begin, your voice hesitant, breaking the silence that has settled between you. His eyes flicker to yours, and you can see the concern there, the quiet, unspoken question.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words feel heavy, like lead in your throat. "There’s something I need to tell you. Something I haven’t been able to... admit to anyone."

His brow furrows slightly, and he shifts closer, his attention now fully on you. "What is it, Y/N?" he asks softly, his voice a gentle encouragement.

You close your eyes for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before you finally speak. "Ever since the ritual... the one Father forced me to participate in... I’ve been having nightmares. Horrible, vivid nightmares. And... I hear voices, Rhaegar. Voices that aren’t mine. They speak to me, mock me, and sometimes they sound almost... prophetic. But they’re dark, twisted things. I don’t know what they mean, but they haunt me."

Rhaegar’s eyes widen slightly, the concern deepening into something more profound, more protective. His grip on your hand tightens, and he pulls you closer, wrapping his other arm around you in a gesture of comfort, of solidarity. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, but it does little to banish the cold dread that has settled in your chest.

"You should have told me sooner," he says, his voice filled with a mixture of worry and something akin to guilt. "I’ve had dreams too, Y/N. I've spoken to you about them. Ever since I was a boy, they’ve come to me in the night—visions of fire, of dragons, of things that I can’t always understand. But they’re part of our blood, our legacy. And the voices... they’re not unheard of. The Targaryens have always had a touch of madness, of visions that blur the line between prophecy and insanity."

You nod against his chest, your hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic as if grounding yourself in the reality of his presence could keep the nightmares at bay. "These dreams... they’re different, Rhaegar. They feel more real, more... personal. And the voices—they seem to know things, things that no one else does. They frighten me."

Rhaegar’s hand strokes your hair gently, a soothing gesture that reminds you of when you were children, and he would comfort you after a particularly frightening dream. But this is different, more serious, more laden with the weight of what your family has become.

"I believe you," he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. "And I’ll do everything I can to help you understand these dreams, these voices."

You want to believe him, to let his words banish the darkness that has taken root in your mind, but there’s a part of you that knows the truth—that some things are beyond even the bond you share with your brother. Still, you take comfort in his presence, in the way he holds you, as if he can shield you from the madness that surrounds you both.

But the moment of fragile peace is shattered when Rhaegar speaks again, his voice tinged with an edge of weariness. "Father... he’s asked that we both attend a formal breakfast tomorrow. He insists that we present ourselves together."

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. The thought of sitting across from Aerys, of enduring his unpredictable moods and twisted demands, fills you with a sense of dread that you can’t quite shake. The firelight flickers in Rhaegar’s eyes, casting specters that seem to dance with the madness you both fear.

And then, as if summoned by your anxiety, the voice returns, slithering through your mind like a serpent. 

"Maggots love you. Trust me," it hisses, the words accompanied by that same mocking cackle, as if the very idea of trust is something to be laughed at.

You gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stop it, and Rhaegar’s grip tightens, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. But how can you explain something that you barely understand yourself? How can you put into words the terror that grips your heart every time that voice whispers in your ear?

He brushes a thumb across your cheek, his expression softening with concern. "What is it, Y/N? What did you hear?"

For a moment, you consider telling him, but the words catch in your throat, the fear too great, the voice’s presence too overwhelming. Instead, you shake your head, trying to force a smile, though it feels brittle and fragile. "It’s nothing," you whisper, though you know he doesn’t believe you. "Just... nerves, I suppose. Tomorrow will be... difficult."

Rhaegar studies you for a long moment, his gaze searching, but he doesn’t press you further. Instead, he pulls you close again, holding you tightly as if he can keep the darkness at bay simply by being near you.

"We’ll face it as one," he declares, his voice a promise, a vow that you both know might be impossible to keep. "No matter what happens, Y/N, we’ll face it."

You nod, burying your face in his chest, allowing yourself to take comfort in his words, even if they can’t fully banish the fear that lurks in the corners of your mind. Tomorrow is another day, another trial to endure, but for now, in this moment, you have your brother’s arms around you.

The morning sun filters through the tall, narrow windows of the Red Keep’s dining hall, casting long beams of light across the table set with delicate gold-trimmed plates and goblets. The air is heavy with the scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and exotic fruits, but the opulence of the feast does little to lift the oppressive atmosphere that hangs over the room.

You sit beside Rhaegar, who is dressed in deep indigo robes, embroidered with silver thread that traces the sigils of House Targaryen—three-headed dragons twisting and twining down the length of his sleeves. His long, silver hair is held back by a circlet of polished steel, a symbol of his status as the crown prince, though there is an air of weariness in the set of his shoulders, as if the weight of the crown he is destined to wear already presses upon him.

You, too, are dressed in the colors of your house, your gown a rich shade of crimson that deepens to black at the hem. The bodice is fitted, embroidered with gold and black dragons, the fabric clinging to your form with a graceful but restrained elegance. Your hair, long and silver like Rhaegar’s, is woven into an intricate braid, entwined with threads of gold that glimmer in the morning light. You feel the weight of the court’s gaze upon you, their eyes flitting between you, Rhaegar, and the man who sits at the head of the table—your father, the king.

King Aerys II sits enthroned in his seat, his long, tangled hair and unkempt beard framing a face that once might have been handsome but is now gaunt and lined with the signs of madness. He wears robes of black velvet, edged with gold, and his fingers, covered in rings, tap absently against the table as he watches the room with a gleam in his eye that is both cunning and dangerous. The rest of the court sits in near silence, their conversations muted, the tension in the air palpable. 

Your mother, Queen Rhaella, is notably absent, as she often is from these gatherings. Whether by her own will or by Aerys’ decree, you cannot tell, and you’re not sure if it would even make a difference. Rhaella has long since retreated into her own world, seeking solace away from the court and the king's erratic temper.

You sit quietly, your fingers toying with the edge of your goblet, your thoughts a swirl of anxiety and unease. What is this breakfast truly about? Is it about your upcoming wedding to Rhaegar, the marriage that he called you back from Dragonstone for, or is it something darker? Something that has been festering in your father’s mind, a plan he has brooded over in the solitude of his chambers?

The food before you is sumptuous, but you find no appetite for it. The roasted pheasant, the baked bread, the colorful array of fruits—they are all tasteless in your mouth as you pick at your plate, more out of decorum than hunger. The tension in the hall is thick, and you cannot shake the feeling that something terrible is about to unfold.

As you push a piece of meat across your plate, the voice in your head returns, slithering through your thoughts with a twisted glee.

"Try the corpse in the oven with peppers and fur," it whispers, its tone mockingly sweet.

A wave of nausea rolls over you, and your hand freezes, the fork slipping from your fingers. You push the plate away, your stomach churning, and glance up across the hall. Ser Arthur Dayne stands at his post, his eyes sharp, and the moment your gaze meets his, you see the worry etched into his features. He knows you too well, knows that something is wrong, but there is nothing he can do from where he stands. His presence, while comforting, is also a reminder of the dangerous game you are all playing under the watchful eye of the king.

At the head of the table, Aerys is engaged in conversation with Lord Owen Merryweather, the current Hand of the King. Lord Merryweather listens intently, his face a mask of politeness, but there is a tightness around his mouth, a tension that betrays his discomfort. The position of Hand has become a perilous one under Aerys’ reign, and it is clear that Lord Merryweather treads carefully, his words measured, his loyalty always in question.

Rhaegar, sitting beside you, observes the court with a practiced gaze, his expression composed but distant. His eyes linger on Tywin Lannister, who sits further down the table, his face inscrutable as always. Rhaegar has told you before of Tywin’s ambitions, his loyalty ever ambiguous since Aerys dismissed him as Hand. The tension between them is palpable, and you can see that Rhaegar is wary, knowing that Tywin’s loyalty could shift like the sands at any moment.

But it’s when Rhaegar’s gaze softens, turning from the court to you, that you feel a flicker of warmth, a momentary respite from the dread that clings to you. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief second, the weight of the world seems to lift, if only slightly.

Yet that moment of solace is shattered when you feel your father’s gaze land upon you. Aerys’ attention shifts from his conversation with Lord Merryweather, his eyes narrowing as they settle on you with a look that is both possessive and unsettling. You feel his hand reach across the table to take yours, his grip cold and strong, and as his fingers close around yours, you hear the voice again, louder this time, almost gleeful.

"Souls draped in rotten tatters and Father dances in the dark."

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively try to pull your hand away, but Aerys’ grip tightens, holding you in place. His eyes bore into yours, and you see the madness swirling there, a darkness that seems to stretch into the abyss.

"Are you unwell, daughter?" Aerys asks, his voice deceptively soft, though there is an edge to it that sends a thrill of fear through you. "You seem pale. Is the food not to your liking?"

You force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace, and shake your head. "No, Father," you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly. "The food is fine. I’m just... not very hungry this morning."

Aerys’ eyes narrow further, as if he is searching for the lie in your words, but before he can press further, Rhaegar speaks, his voice calm and steady, though you can sense the tension beneath it.

"Perhaps my sister is simply tired from our journey back to King’s Landing," Rhaegar suggests, his gaze flicking between you and Aerys. "It was a long trip, and she may need time to rest and recover."

Aerys studies you for a moment longer, his gaze piercing, before he finally releases your hand. "Very well," he says, his voice laced with a hint of suspicion. "But do not think to excuse yourself from the feast too early, Y/N. There are matters we must discuss."

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and feel Rhaegar’s hand subtly cover yours under the table, a silent reassurance. The court continues to eat, the murmur of conversation resuming, but you can no longer focus on anything other than the dread that gnaws at the edges of your thoughts.

The minutes drag on, each one stretching into an eternity as you and Rhaegar sit in uneasy silence, the weight of your father’s presence pressing down on you like a suffocating shroud. Aerys continues to eat, each bite slow and deliberate, as if he is savoring not just the food but the tension in the room. The courtiers, their own meals forgotten, steal furtive glances at the king, their expressions a mix of apprehension and curiosity. It is clear that they, too, are waiting, their nerves stretched taut as they anticipate whatever madness might spill from Aerys’ lips.

Finally, after what feels like an agonizing eternity, Aerys pushes his plate away with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. The scraping of the plate against the table is the only sound in the hall, a grating noise that echoes in the silence. Then, with a movement so sudden it nearly startles you, Aerys rises to his feet.

The court falls completely silent. All eyes turn to the king, every whisper and murmur dying on the lips of the courtiers as they wait, breath held, for whatever is to come next. Aerys stands tall, his hands resting on the table, his wild eyes gleaming with something dangerous—something that makes your blood run cold.

He takes a deep breath, and then, in a voice that carries through the hall like a blade slicing through the air, he begins to speak.

"My lords, my ladies," Aerys intones, his voice dripping with a mockery of warmth that does nothing to disguise the madness lurking beneath. "I have been pondering long and hard over the future of this realm—over the future of my house. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and it is my duty as your king to ensure that it continues to do so."

The courtiers exchange uneasy glances, uncertain of where this is leading. You can feel Rhaegar tense beside you, his hand still holding yours beneath the table, his grip tightening as he, too, waits for the king’s next words.

Aerys pauses, his gaze sweeping the room, lingering on each of the noble lords and ladies in turn. His eyes gleam with a kind of manic glee as he continues. "I have decided," he says slowly, savoring each word, "that the time has come to solidify the strength of House Targaryen. To ensure that our blood remains pure, untainted by the weakness of lesser houses."

Your heart begins to race, the dread that has been gnawing at you all morning rising like bile in your throat. You have heard this kind of rhetoric from your father before, but there is something about the way he is speaking now, something that suggests this is more than just another of his delusional rants.

Aerys straightens, his hands leaving the table as he spreads his arms wide, as though welcoming the court into some grand, twisted plan. "And so," he announces, his voice booming, "I have decided that I shall marry my daughter, Y/N, myself. She is the mother of my dragon, the key to our house’s rebirth, and together, we shall bring forth a new age for House Targaryen!"

The gasp that ripples through the hall is not a mere wave; it is a thunderclap of shock and horror. The courtiers stare at the king in disbelief, some with wide eyes, others with their mouths slightly agape, as they try to comprehend the enormity of what Aerys has just decreed. Even those who might have expected something drastic from the king seem stunned by the announcement, their shock visible.

Rhaegar’s grip on your hand tightens almost painfully, and you can feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a flame. His face remains a mask of composure, but you know your brother well enough to see the turmoil beneath the surface. This was not how it was supposed to be. Your two are supposed to wed. That was the announcement the court was waiting to hear. Now, your father has twisted everything, turning it into a horrifying reality that reeks of possession and madness.

You sit frozen, unable to move or speak, your mind reeling from the shock of your father’s words. The voice in your head stirs again, whispering dark, unintelligible things, but you push it down, focusing instead on the scene unfolding before you.

Lord Owen Merryweather is the first to react, rising from his seat with a forced smile on his face, though his eyes betray his unease. "A most wise decision, Your Grace," he says, his voice smooth but strained. "Such a union will surely strengthen the realm and secure the legacy of House Targaryen."

Aerys’ eyes gleam with satisfaction as he nods in acknowledgment, clearly pleased with the Hand’s response. But the court remains uneasy, the murmurs that follow Merryweather’s statement filled with uncertainty and fear.

As you look around the hall, you see Tywin Lannister’s expression harden, his sharp eyes narrowing as he assesses the situation. His face reveals nothing of what he is truly thinking, but you know that Tywin is not one to take such a move lightly. The dismissal as Hand still festers, and his loyalty, if it can be called that, is more precarious than ever.

Your attention snaps back to Aerys as he takes a step closer to you and Rhaegar, his gaze settling on you with a possessive intensity that makes your skin crawl. He reaches out, taking your hand in his once more, and you can’t help but flinch at the coldness of his touch.

"The blood of the dragon must remain pure," Aerys says, his voice low and almost conspiratorial, as if he is sharing a great secret with you alone. "And you, my daughter, will play a pivotal role in that. We shall burn away the impurities and emerge, reborn in fire and blood."

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure even as your mind screams at you to pull away, to run, to do anything but sit here and accept what he is saying. But you are trapped, caught between the expectations of your house and the madness of the man who rules it.

And then, just as the dread threatens to overwhelm you, the voice returns, its words slithering into your mind with a sickening glee.

"Souls draped in rotten tatters and Father dances in the dark."

The voice cackles, the sound echoing in your skull, and you feel a chill run down your spine. The room seems to tilt for a moment, and you grasp at the edge of the table, trying to steady yourself. Rhaegar notices, his hand squeezing yours in silent support, but there is little he can do in the face of Aerys’ madness.

You force yourself to meet your father’s gaze, the madness in his eyes a reflection of the darkness that has been creeping into your own mind. You want to scream, to cry, to rail against the fate that is being forced upon you, but all you can do is nod, a small, almost imperceptible movement that seals your fate.

Aerys smiles, a cruel, satisfied smile that makes your blood run cold. "Good," he says, his voice low and triumphant. "Very good."

And then, as if the horror of this announcement were not enough, Aerys turns back to the court, his voice rising with manic energy.

"But there is more!" he declares, and the hall falls silent once more, the tension ratcheting up to unbearable levels. "At the time of our wedding, a great purge will begin. We shall cleanse this court, this kingdom, of traitors and those who conspire against us. The flames of the dragon shall consume them, and from their ashes, our reign shall rise, stronger and purer than ever before!"

The courtiers’ murmurs turn to gasps of fear and disbelief. The king’s words have cast a shadow of terror over the room, and the implications of his decree settle heavily over every heart. You can see the horror etched into their faces, the realization that none of them is safe from Aerys’ paranoia and madness.

As you sit there, the court around you buzzing with shock and speculation, you realize that there is no escape from the path your father has set you on. The dance has begun, and you are trapped in it, a pawn in a game far more dangerous than you ever imagined.

The only question that remains is how far you are willing to go to survive it.

The king’s words hang in the air like a death sentence, their weight pressing down on the court until it feels as though the very walls of the Red Keep might crack under the strain. The courtiers, already on edge, now teeter on the brink of panic, their whispers turning into a low, rising murmur of fear and confusion. Aerys stands at the head of the table, a darkly triumphant smile on his lips as he watches the chaos unfold, the madness in his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

At his post near the entrance of the hall, Ser Arthur Dayne’s heart pounds in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears as he struggles to maintain his composure. His grip on the hilt of Dawn tightens, the leather of the hilt creaking under the pressure. He watches as the reality of Aerys’ proclamation sinks into the minds of those gathered, their expressions shifting from shock to terror as they realize the full implications of what has just been decreed.

Arthur’s training, his sense of duty as a Kingsguard, tells him to act, to bring order to the court, to protect the king as he was sworn to do. But in that moment, he feels frozen, unable to move, his gaze fixed on you and Rhaegar, who sit together at the high table, the weight of your father’s madness pressing down on you both.

This was supposed to be different. Arthur’s heart clenches painfully as he remembers the quiet conversations he had with Rhaegar, the plans they had made to ensure your safety. The marriage between you and Rhaegar was supposed to be a safeguard, a promise to keep you out of Aerys’ reach, to shield you from the worst of your father’s madness. But now, that promise has been shattered, and the reality of what Aerys has declared is far worse than any of them had imagined.

As the panic in the hall threatens to spill over, Arthur forces himself to move. He glances at his brethren—Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Jaime Lannister, and Ser Oswell Whent—who are all equally awear, their eyes darting between the king and the courtiers. They, too, are struggling to maintain control, to fulfill their duty in the face of the impossible.

Arthur steps forward, his voice cutting through the rising noise with the authority of one who has commanded armies. "Silence!" he calls, his tone firm but controlled, though the effort it takes to maintain that control feels like a battle within itself. "You will show respect for your king."

The courtiers fall silent, their fear and uncertainty now directed toward the Kingsguard, their eyes wide with apprehension. But the tension remains, thick and suffocating, the threat of violence hanging over the room like a sword waiting to fall.

Arthur’s gaze flickers back to you and Rhaegar. His heart aches at the sight of you, pale and shaken, your eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Rhaegar, ever the composed prince, is struggling as well, the weight of what has just been set into motion bearing down on him with crushing force. He leans toward you, his hand still gripping yours beneath the table, his voice low and urgent as he whispers something in your ear. You nod faintly, your movements stiff, as if you’re not entirely in control of your own body.

Arthur’s breath catches in his throat as he watches Rhaegar rise from his seat, his expression carefully neutral as he offers you his hand. "Come," Rhaegar says quietly, his voice soothing, though Arthur can hear the strain beneath the calm. "We should retire, Y/N. There is much to discuss, and you need rest."

You nod again, allowing Rhaegar to help you to your feet, your hand clutching his as though it is the only thing keeping you anchored to reality. Together, you begin to move away from the table, your steps slow and deliberate, as if you’re trying not to draw attention to yourselves. But Arthur knows that in a room full of people, there is no escaping the eyes that watch your every move.

Aerys, too, watches, his gaze narrowing as he notices the subtle attempt to retreat. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Arthur fears that the king will command you to stay, to subject you to whatever twisted designs have taken root in his mind. But instead, Aerys remains silent, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction as if he is content to let you go—for now.

Arthur wants to follow, to abandon his post and go after you, to protect you from the madness that is now so clearly aimed directly at you. But he cannot. He is bound by his oaths, his duty as a Kingsguard, and to abandon his post now would be a betrayal of everything he has sworn to uphold. And yet, as he watches you walk away, led by Rhaegar, he feels the sting of helplessness, a deep and painful wound that cuts through his very soul.

Ser Barristan, ever the stalwart knight, steps forward to assist in maintaining order among the courtiers. His voice is calm but firm as he speaks, offering reassurances that ring hollow in the ears of those who have just witnessed the king’s madness made manifest. Ser Jaime and Ser Oswell take up positions at the exits, their presence a reminder that, despite the chaos, the Kingsguard remain vigilant, ready to enforce the king’s will, no matter how twisted.

But Arthur, his heart heavy with a grief that he cannot show, can only watch as you and Rhaegar make your way out of the hall, each step taking you further from the nightmare that has unfolded. As you pass by him, your eyes meet his for the briefest of moments, and in that gaze, he sees the depth of your despair, the silent plea for help that you cannot voice.

He cannot respond, not in the way he wishes to. All he can do is nod, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture that he hopes conveys the promise that, no matter what happens, he will not abandon you.

But as you disappear from view, led away by Rhaegar, the reality of what has just happened crashes down on him with the force of a storm. The marriage that was supposed to keep you safe, the plan that was meant to protect you, has been twisted into something monstrous by the very man who should have been your protector. And now, there is no escaping the darkness that has been unleashed.

Arthur’s heart shatters at the realization, the weight of his duty pressing down on him like never before. He feels as though he is drowning in the madness that surrounds him, unable to save the one person he swore to protect above all else.

The court remains tense, the fear in the air drowning and suffocating. Arthur forces himself to remain focused, to do his duty, even as his mind races with the impossible choices that now lie before him. The king’s madness has set them all on a path from which there may be no return, and as Arthur stands there, sword in hand, he knows that the hardest decisions are yet to come.

But for now, all he can do is stand his ground, even as the world crumbles around him, and pray that somehow, in the end, there will be a way to save you from the darkness that threatens to consume you all.

As the shock in the hall begins to settle into a simmering unease, Ser Jaime Lannister remains at his post near one of the exits, his sharp eyes scanning the room. The court was still reeling from the king's shocking pronouncement. Jaime's jaw clenches as he watches the courtiers murmur amongst themselves, their faces pale with fear and uncertainty. He had known something like this was coming, had seen the signs, but even he hadn't fully grasped just how far the king's madness had spiraled.

He catches sight of Ser Oswell Whent, who is stationed near the opposite door. Making sure that none of the courtiers are too close to overhear, Jaime makes his way over to him, his movements smooth and controlled despite the tension coiled within him. When he reaches Oswell, Jaime leans in slightly, his voice low and edged with frustration.

"I warned Ser Gerold this would happen," Jaime mutters, his golden hair catching the light as he casts a glance back at the head of the hall, where Aerys remains seated, his eyes alight with his twisted satisfaction. "I told him that Aerys was growing more unstable by the day, that it was only a matter of time before he did something like this. But Gerold refused to listen. He said our duty was to protect the king, not question him."

Oswell's face remains impassive, though his dark eyes flicker with something that could be agreement—or perhaps regret. He nods slightly, acknowledging Jaime's words without fully committing to a response. "Ser Gerold is loyal to the oaths we swore," Oswell replies, his tone measured. "As are we all. But perhaps... perhaps the time has come to reconsider what those oaths truly demand of us."

Jaime’s expression tightens, his frustration barely contained. "Loyalty to a mad king is one thing. Allowing him to destroy his own family—and the realm—is another. We swore to protect the royal family, not to stand by and watch them be consumed by Aerys’ madness."

Oswell glances at Jaime, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Be careful, Ser Jaime. Such talk could be considered treasonous."

Jaime’s gaze hardens, his voice dropping even lower. "Treasonous or not, we both know it’s the truth. Aerys has lost all sense of reason, and the longer we stand by and do nothing, the more lives he’ll ruin—starting with his own children."

Before Oswell can respond, they both notice Ser Barristan Selmy making his way toward Ser Arthur Dayne, who stands near the entrance where Rhaegar and you just exited. The hall has begun to quiet again, the courtiers returning to their seats, though the undercurrent of fear is still present. Jaime watches as Barristan stops beside Arthur, his expression calm but his eyes betraying a deeper concern.

Arthur, still reeling from what has just transpired, barely notices Barristan’s approach until the older knight speaks, his voice low and meant only for Arthur’s ears. "Go after them, Arthur," Barristan says quietly, his tone steady but urgent. "Rhaegar may need your help to get Y/N away from here safely, before Aerys changes his mind and demands she return to the hall."

Arthur turns to Barristan, his eyes filled with the torment of his own inner struggle. "But my duty—"

"Your duty is to protect them," Barristan interrupts, his voice firm. "And right now, the best way to do that is to be by their side. The rest of us will keep things under control here. Go."

Arthur hesitates for only a moment longer, the conflict in his eyes clear. But Barristan’s words have struck a chord within him, and he knows that his place is with you and Rhaegar, especially now that the situation has become so perilous. With a nod of gratitude to Barristan, Arthur turns and swiftly exits the hall, his long strides taking him down the corridor after you and Rhaegar.

Jaime watches him go, a flicker of approval crossing his features. "It seems Ser Barristan has a better sense of duty than Ser Gerold," he remarks quietly to Oswell. "At least someone still remembers what we’re really here for."

Oswell’s gaze follows Arthur as he disappears from view. "It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, Jaime," he says, his voice thoughtful. "But you may be right. If we don’t start making decisions for the right reasons, we’ll all be caught in the fire."

Jaime nods, his expression grim. "And when that happens, no one will escape unscathed."

The two knights exchange a brief, knowing glance before returning to their posts, their minds heavy with the knowledge that the line between loyalty and treason has never been thinner—and that their choices in the coming days could determine not just their own fates, but the fate of the entire realm.

Rhaegar leads you down the corridors of the Red Keep, his hand firm yet gentle as he guides you away from the hall and the madness you’ve just left behind. The echoes of your father’s words still ring in your ears, but they feel distant, like a memory from another life. Your steps are mechanical, your mind numb as you try to process what has just been decreed. Aerys’ madness had always been a looming shadow, but now it has fully enveloped you, binding you to a fate darker than any you could have imagined.

Rhaegar stops once you’re far enough from the throne room, turning to face you. His eyes, usually so composed and thoughtful, are now filled with a deep, painful regret. "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I’m so sorry. I never thought he would... I never thought he would do this. I tried to protect you. I thought marrying you myself would keep you safe, but..." He trails off, his hands gripping your shoulders as if trying to anchor you to him, to reality.

But you hardly register his words. Your mind feels detached, floating somewhere between the horrors of the present and the creeping dread of the future. Your father’s announcement, the grotesque mockery of what should have been a safeguard, feels like a nightmare you cannot wake from. You look at Rhaegar, but it’s as if you’re seeing him from a distance, through a fog that dulls your senses.

"Y/N, please," Rhaegar implores, his voice breaking through the haze. "You have to stay with me. We’ll find a way out of this, I promise. I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let this happen."

His words reach you, but they don’t penetrate the numbness that has taken hold of you. You want to respond, to tell him that you’re afraid, that you feel as though you’re trapped in a nightmare with no escape, but the words won’t come. Instead, you just stare at him, your eyes wide and vacant, as if you’re somewhere else entirely.

Rhaegar’s grip tightens slightly, his desperation growing. "I should have done more. I should have stopped him. I—"

Before he can finish, the sound of footsteps echoes through the corridor, and Arthur Dayne appears, his face etched with worry and determination. He quickly closes the distance between you, his eyes flickering between you and Rhaegar, taking in the scene before him.

"Rhaegar," Arthur says, his voice steady despite the turmoil you know he must be feeling. "What happened in there... I couldn’t believe it. But right now, we need to focus on getting Y/N somewhere safe. Away from him."

Rhaegar nods, his expression one of grim resolve. "She’s in shock, Arthur. She hasn’t spoken since we left the hall." His voice is laced with guilt, and he looks at you with an almost helpless expression, as though he doesn’t know how to reach you.

Arthur steps closer, his presence a calming force despite the chaos that surrounds you. He gently places a hand on your arm, his touch warm and reassuring. "Y/N," he says softly, his voice low and soothing. "I’m here. We’re both here. We’re not going to let anything happen to you."

You finally blink, the fog in your mind lifting just slightly at the sound of Arthur’s voice. You turn your head to look at him, and for the first time since the throne room, you feel a flicker of something—perhaps it’s safety, perhaps it’s the familiar comfort of his presence. But it’s enough to pull you back, if only a little, from the abyss you’ve been teetering on.

"I—" you start to say, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it catches in your throat. You try again, swallowing hard, and manage to force out, "I don’t know what to do."

Arthur and Rhaegar exchange a glance, both of them clearly grappling with their own fears and uncertainties. But when Arthur speaks, his voice is steady, his words a promise. "We’ll figure it out. We won’t let Aerys take you down with him. Whatever it takes, we’ll protect you."

Rhaegar nods, his hand moving from your shoulder to clasp your hand. "You’re not alone, Y/N. We’ll find a way through this. I swear it."

The sincerity in their voices, the determination in their eyes, offers a small comfort amidst the storm that rages within you. The numbness begins to fade, replaced by the cold, hard reality of your situation—but with it comes a sense of clarity. You’re not alone. Rhaegar and Arthur are here, and they will fight for you, just as you have fought to hold on to whatever sanity remains in the twisted world your father has created.

Slowly, you nod, squeezing Rhaegar’s hand in return, though your grip is weak. "I... I trust you," you manage to say, your voice trembling. "But I’m scared."

Arthur’s hand moves to your back, offering support. "You have every right to be. But fear doesn’t mean we’re defeated. We’ll take this one step at a time."

Rhaegar exhales slowly, as if relieved that he’s finally gotten through to you, if only a little. "Arthur’s right. We’ll take this one step at a time. But for now, let’s get you somewhere safe, away from the court’s eyes and ears. We need to think."

The three of you start moving again, Arthur and Rhaegar flanking you as they guide you through the maze of corridors that lead away from the throne room and its lingering echoes of madness. The walls of the Red Keep, which once felt like a fortress, now seem like a prison—one that you must escape, no matter the cost.

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 4

what the fuck is this: it's me drafting a fake robert's rebellion tv show through a series of bullet points. there will be two seasons of ten episodes each

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10

SEASON TWO: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4

prev: 2.03

next: tbc

so I did fully try to see if I could get that fishing boat scene out of here but in the end I decided I couldn’t and also now I’ve decided I’ve found meaning in it after all. I’ve found meaning in Ned’s fishing boat adventure

also I am finding the Rhaegar/Elia and Rhaegar/Lyanna the most difficult to try and suss out but I’m feeling a lot clearer on them now at least in terms of how I personally want to interpret them so…. yeah this has been fun for that

title for this one: who else completely forgot gulltown existed

A raven flies to the Eyrie; inside Jon Arryn’s solar, we see Jon, Ned and Robert all assembled, apparently having slept there waiting for this missive. Jon reads aloud for the three of them, and so they learn of what has become of Rickard and Brandon Stark. Ned is frozen in the sudden onslaught of grief. Robert asks what news of Lyanna. Ned tells him without needing to hear it: she wasn’t even there. The missive ends as Aerys demands Jon’s fealty, and the heads of his wards. Robert and Ned look to Jon, suddenly aware of their vulnerability here. Jon asks if they truly doubt him - they are as good as sons to him, he says, and better than any he might have had. They are each the heads of their houses now, and must lead them for Lyanna. He goes then to Ned and comforts him as he falls apart

Lyanna awakens beside the embers of a campfire, Rhaegar’s cloak wrapped about her. She has been dreaming again, and senses something terrible has happened - but can’t think what. Rhaegar returns from between the trees from watering the horses. Lyanna asks him if it is strange that she’s hardly thought of her father since she left his camp? How frightened he must be. Suddenly frantic, she tells Rhaegar she needs to go back, and tell her father she’s alright. She’s meant to be at Brandon’s wedding. It will be any day now.Rhaegar looks at her sadly, and Lyanna realises she remembers the dream she’s been pushing to the back of her mind. She looks to Rhaegar. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Rhaegar looks back sadly. Lyanna collapses into his arms

Rip

Jaime walks into the throne room to relieve Lewyn Martell at the foot of Aerys’ throne. He looks up at the king with disgust and trepidation. Aerys sits at the top, gnawing at his fingernails - last night felt so good so right, yet now he’s more frightened than ever. He asks Merryweather if they’ve received word from Jon Arryn. Merryweather, uneasy, says there is still time

Maester at the Eyrie writes missives to the lords of the Vale, rallying them against the crown. The ravens fly out in different directions across the region

A call to arms lands in the hands of Lord Grafton, who reads it with a sullen look. His maester asks how he should like to reply. Grafton considers this a moment, before announcing that House Grafton remains loyal to the crown, and what the prince has done with some northern girl is no concern for men of the Vale

Lyanna riding through the woods, her eyes distant. Rain chucking it down. Rhaegar rides beside her in silence. After some time, he tells her that it wasn’t her fault what had happened to her father and brother. Lyanna wonders how it could be anyone’s fault but hers. Even now, she doesn’t know why she’s still running - she should’ve married Robert Baratheon as her father had wanted, and then perhaps Lord Rickard and Brandon would still be alive. Rhaegar reaches over to turn her face to his, and tells her that Robert Baratheon is not her fate. He never was. Lyanna, shocked at Rhaegar’s sudden intensity, asks again where it is that they are going

Lewyn Martell with Elia in Maegor’s Holdfast. Elia asks after the King; Lewyn says that the King is well. Elia says that’s not what she means. Lewyn pauses, then says he wouldn’t let anything happen to his sister’s daughter; it was the last thing he promised Loreza. Elia says that in life Loreza had thought marrying her to the Prince would be the best thing she could do for her daughter - though spiting Tywin Lannister was no small part of it. But this isn’t a safe place, and she isn’t happy; no-one laughs here, and her children have no idea where their father is. Neither does she, for that matter. Hesitating, Elia says she supposes the Prince is a friend of Lewyn’s, and asks his forgiveness for speaking ill. Lewyn says that he doesn’t think the Prince had friends, not even Arthur for all the time he spent by his side. Elia ponders that, then reveals that for the first year she’d thought she loved Rhaegar - he was hard to know but he said he’d seen her in his dreams. How could she not love that? Only now, she thinks perhaps he’d dreamt wrong. He thinks this northern girl is - she doesn’t know what he thinks she is. But she finds herself despising Lyanna - isn’t that foolish? That she hates this child, and yet still some part of her clings to Rhaegar. Lewyn says he doesn’t think it is foolish to have loved the Prince; many women have. Elia agrees, and says she knows now that she was just another

In Jon Arryn’s solar with Ned and Robert (are they ever getting out of there? stay tuned). Jon Arryn tells the boys he’s received messages of solidarity from many of his vassals - but not all. Lord Grafton has written back declaring his fealty to the crown, and though he has always esteemed Jon’s intelligence, he suspects it falters here. He recommends Jon send Aerys his wards’ heads before the King claims his. Robert says it’s a given then - they must march on Gulltown, and see who gets to keep their head. A rare smirk from Jon Arryn; they have enough men to take on Gulltown, but this will be only the first of their battles. He turns to Ned. He is Lord Stark now; what does he wish to do? Ned says he wants Lyanna back. Jon nods; then they’ll have need of his northmen - how fast can he rally them?

Robert and Ned say goodbye as Ned prepares to traverse the Mountains of the Moon; Robert will march to Gulltown with Jon in the meantime, gathering men as they go. Robert says that if they’re Jon’s sons, then Ned is his brother, and when they get Lyanna back they will make it law. Ned nods, slightly tearful, and the two go their separate ways

Rhaegar and Lyanna approach Summerhall. Lyanna’s eyes shine at the sight of the ruin: it is sad, beautiful, and altogether ethereal. She dismounts her horse, and wanders towards it on foot. There are flowers growing in between the wreckage, and amongst them her favourite, winter roses. Lyanna is confused, telling Rhaegar that she has only known them to grow in the North. Rhaegar tells her he’s come to these ruins since he was a boy; here, the music comes to him, and he sees things in waking dreams. For some time now, he reveals, he has seen her. That’s really it for Lyanna; they kiss

One week later. Robert marching through the Stormlands, Gulltown on the horizon. Bit of tooting from the war trumpets idk. Jon Arryn tells Robert that cannot hope to have caught Grafton unawares; Robert says he certainly hopes not

Ned meanwhile, wearing a Daemon hood: he’s about to cross the Bite. He boards a fisherman’s boat, paying handsomely for the man’s silence. The fisherman warns that there is a storm coming, and Ned pays him more - they have to depart now

Grafton’s men emerge from the walls of Gulltown. Jon reminds Robert that this is real war now, not a melee. Robert like ‘depends how you look at it’ and leads the charge, bellowing

From the fishing boat, Ned looks up at the rapidly darkening skies. The waves grow taller, and Ned tells the fisherman he’s sorry for ever forcing him to ride such a storm. Fisherman reveals he knows who Ned is, and he knows where he’s going. He himself used to be a Duskendale man, till Aerys did for good lord Denys, so fuck the king etc he’ll get Ned across the Bite if it’s the last thing he does. Anyway it literally is bc two seconds later he’s been thrown overboard and Ned’s knocked out as he collides with the side of the boat. I’m sparing my imaginary production crew the trouble of filming this basically

Robert amidst the chaos of battle at Gulltown. He spies Marq Grafton and charges at him. As Robert makes his first strike at Grafton…

We cut abruptly to Ned, waking up on the beached fisherman’s boat. The fisherman’s daughter is clearing the detritus from the deck. Ned asks where her father is, but the girl won’t look at him. She tells him she has gotten him to the Three Sisters, like they promised they would; if it’s to be worth her father’s life, he’d best do what he came to do

Aerys at his supper table alongside Rhaella; Varys leans in to whisper news of Gulltown. We don’t hear it ourselves, but we can tell what the news is as we slowly zoom on Aerys’ face, terror on Rhaella’s in the periphery

Robert at the seat of House Grafton, accepting the surrender of his opposition, and the fealty of one Lyn Corbray. He looks delighted with himself. Jon Arryn praises him quietly but reminds him that this battle was only the first - and the first of many, he fears. Robert like, so be it. He wants his bride back

Rhaegar and Lyanna stand beneath a heart tree. All about them are the charred remains of trees burnt decades ago, but this one survived. Rhaegar ties cloth about their hands himself as they look deep into each other’s eyes. Together they say the words, and it is done

[katshuya]

No matter what George does. No matter if he twisted it into "Elia was ok and never felt humiliated nor used, and the Martells didn't mind what Rhaegar did" or if George decided never to talk about Elia. R x L will always be disgusting and not a tragic love story.

Any sane human being can see that.

Even in a creepy scenario where she was ok with it OR one where she didn't love Rhaegar, he will always be to blame, and he still used her.

That's why the R x L stans always try to either ignore her existence or reduce it into nothing and her into some kind of supernatural alien human that is ok with everything dirty done to her.

Because they know their oh so tragic, self insert true love story will always seem disgusting because of Elia's existence in the story.

No amount of excuses or fanarts will ever change this truth. No matter which characters George will make accepting and supporting of them (Ned, Arthur, Oberyn, Doran, Ashara, Lewyn and even Elia herself....ect). Why? Because it's unrealistic.

Even if R and L's were running away from Aerys, then suddenly *accidentally* saw a prophecy or fell in love.

OR Even if George made it that Rhaegar wouldn't have left her if she had been able to give him another child. It doesn't change that he abandoned her and their children in the worst way possible with no protection against Aerys and his loyal kingsguard. And even then, it's hard to believe she'd accept just because he told her : Hey, I see in my dreams that I have to have 3 children or we all die. Like, what is this? She almost died for that, no thanks to you and your one after another impregnation.

It's disgusting and not well-written at all.

That's just the plain truth.

That's why a huge part of the fandom dislikes it. Not because they "didn't read the books" or "they lack critical thinking".

It's actually because they know how to think instead of inserting themselves as not like other girls girl and shipping themselves with terrible husband and father, charismatic depressed prince charming.

Poor Rhaegar had a sense of doom following him and knew he'd die soon so Elia let him be? That's very idiotic.

No. Elia being fine with annulment or polygamy isn't normal unless she is forced to. And you know it.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Ned's Tower of Joy dream is an interesting case study on how GRRM employs the three part revelation strategy. Because Ned's questioning of the kings guard and their subsequent answers basically falls into:

Q: Why are the kingsguard at the Tower of Joy? They could be anywhere else but they're here? Why??

A: They are there to fulfill their duty to the king.

See, Ned asks them three questions that get to the heart of revealing why the kingsguard are present where Lyanna (and Jon, per RLJ) are. Because if the kingsguard's primary duty is to protect the king, and if each set of question and answer reaffirms that the KG at the tower were doing their duty, then we can discern that Rhaegar's son is the king at that moment in time. Each question and answer reveals more information than the last, which falls into the three part strategy as observed by GRRM's editor, Anne Groell.

[...] I’ve realized his three-fold revelation strategy, I see it in play almost every time. The first, subtle hint for the really astute readers, followed later by the more blatant hint for the less attentive, followed by just spelling it out for everyone else. It’s a brilliant strategy, and highly effective.

How this strategy plays into the ToJ dream is that GRRM starts with

planting a little seed of doubt by questioning the kingsguard's whereabouts

then he follows up with bringing to attention the fact that they have not yet sworn fealty to the new king

then finally spelling it out that their presence here rather than elsewhere signifies that the king is close at hand - in the very tower where this confrontation is taking place

For the astute observer who has figured out that R+L=J, this is a very important piece of information regarding Jon's status at the time. Because he has so far been introduced to us as Ned Stark's bastard. But now, this sequence of information plays into the larger theme of Jon being presented as a hidden king.

So let's take a more detailed look at how this plays out in the dream once Ned confronts the ghosts of the kingsguard.

P.S: Ok, I lied. Ned actually asks them four questions. But four is not so nice a number as three so whatever. The point remains.

Q1: Three other kingsguard were fighting with the crown prince at the Trident. Yet these three remained. Why?

A1: Their duty was not to go to the Trident but to remain at the ToJ

“I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them. “We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered. “Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell.

This first set means to establish a timeline. We know that Rhaegar was last at the tower (well, that is before he went to Kings Landing and then to the Trident). Rhaegar even took three other kingsguard to battle with him: Jonothor Darry, Barristan Selmy, and Lewyn Martell.

These three kings guard at the ToJ should have gone with Rhaegar because after all, it's their duty to fight for the king and his cause. But they were left at the TOJ. And we can assume that this was per Rhaegar's orders as GRRM himself confirms that if Rhaegar told them to stay at the tower, then they would've had little power to disobey him.

But Rhaegar died at the Trident. So why did they choose to remain? And even though this conversation is happening within a feverish dream (thus opening up the possibility that these words were not the actual ones that were exchanged in real history), it still seems that by the time Ned got to the tower the kingsguard already knew of Rhaegar's demise.

So why did they remain?

Q2: Jaime Lannister, a member of the kingsguard, was in King's Landing slaying their king. Why were these three not there to avenge Aerys? Isn't their primary duty to protect the king?

A2: Aerys is dead, but the kingsguard still has to do their duty which is to remain at the tower.

“When King’s Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.” “Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”

Once again, the language used here suggests that they knew of their king's demise. They did not go with Rhaegar to the Trident, and then Rhaegar died. Who knows how fast information travels, but these three still chose to remain at the tower despite his death. Afterwards, they did not make an effort to find Aerys, nor did they make an effort to go and avenge him once he was dead. They swore an oath to remain at the tower, and that is exactly what they did.

But with Rhaegar dead and with Aerys dead, they're now running out of excuses to remain at the tower. Though they may be fiercely loyal to the vows they swore to their prince, they also have a primary duty to obey their king and they could've performed that elsewhere. Especially now that there's a new king in town...

Q3: Ok, their king is dead and the entire realm now swears fealty to a new king. All the knights, honorable and dishonorable, have bent the knee. But what about them? Why are they here?

A3: They have a duty to remain at the tower. A duty they fulfill as members of the kingsguard, and one that cannot be transferred easily.

“I came down on Storm’s End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, “and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.” “Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne.

What's interesting about this is that they seemingly reject Robert as their king. It's a reaffirmation of their first answer to Ned's first question. "Woe to the Usurper if we had been [at the Trident]”. So Robert is not their king. But the primary duty of the kingsguard is to serve the king. Their behavior so far gives the impression that they are fulfilling it. But it's rather strange, isn't it. Who are they fulfilling their duty to if not Robert?

And Ned knows this. If they reject Robert as their king, who else is there to support? Rhaegar is long dead. Aerys was slain by their own sworn brother. And Rhaegar's son and heir met his end at the hand of Gregor Clegane. Their duty is sworn to the Targaryen line, but it has been snuffed out. So why are they here?

But Ned asks a final question that is, in a way, a nail in the coffin. It answers the question: they serve the king but which one?

Q4: Fine! Robert is not their king. And Rhaegar, Aerys, and Aegon are dead. Well...there is Viserys, who would have been Aerys' heir after Rhaegar. He's not dead. So why are they not with him?

A4: They do not go to Viserys because their duty as kingsguard(!) is not with him.

“Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.” “Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell. “But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.” “Then or now,” said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm. “We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold.

This is the final revelation and it answers the key question in all of this. The kingsguard performed their duty by guarding their king at the Tower of Joy. They are not serving Aerys by remaining there. And they are also not doing Viserys, who is currently at Dragonstone, any favors. Whatever vow they swore as kingsguard relates to the ToJ. And we know (per RLJ) that the two people at the tower are Lyanna Stark and Jon Snow, Rhaegar's last surviving son and heir.

We're given two key pieces of information with the last two sets of question and answer in regards to the kingsguards performing their duty by guarding Jon at the tower. First when Arthur Dayne says that, "our knees do not bend easily". Of course, they do not bend for Robert the usurper as we already know...

...But, the start of the dream features a very important detail.

Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. 

Ser Oswell has already bent the knee. And he means to fight for the king he has sworn a vow to since he is preparing his sword.

Then we have Ser Gerold 'pointing out' (thus bringing attention to) the fact that though Prince Viserys and Queen Rhaella are still alive and under the protection of a good knight, they are not under the protection of kingsguard. The kings guard does not flee - they stand their ground and fight for their king. And this is again asserted by Ser Gerold who reminds Ned that “we swore a vow.”

So we have a three four part revelation that the last stand at the ToJ involved protecting little Jon who, at that time, was recognized as king by the three knights.

This doesn't end here. Jaime's ASOS dream also has him confront ghosts of the pasts and the question of oaths comes up, as it did in Ned's dream. The two dreams intersect when the topic of the kingsguard's duty comes up. And we see that as it was in Ned's dream, the three knights at the ToJ were fulfilling their primary oaths to protect (and die) for their king.

“I swore an oath to keep him safe,” [Brienne] said to Rhaegar’s shade. “I swore a holy oath.” “We all swore oaths,” said Ser Arthur Dayne, so sadly. [...] “He was your king,” said Darry. “You swore to keep him safe,” said Whent. “And the children, them as well,” said Prince Lewyn. [...] “I never thought he’d hurt them.” Jaime’s sword was burning less brightly now. “I was with the king …” “Killing the king,” said Ser Arthur. “Cutting his throat,” said Prince Lewyn. “The king you had sworn to die for,” said the White Bull.

Once again, we have the affirmation that the kingsguard swear vows to protect their king even if it leads to their deaths. And as we know, all these kingsguard died during Robert's Rebellion. Three died at the Trident with Rhaegar, fighting for their king's cause. So why are the other three who were at the ToJ lumped with them?

Of course, this is Jaime's conscious. And his relationship with Dayne, Hightower, and Whent is very different from Ned's. But the point remains that as the narrative suggests, they too died for their king. They fulfilled their oaths to completion. But the king they died for was not Aerys or Aegon or Viserys. Their king was a tiny babe - Jon Snow.

Though this feverish dream is part of a much larger reveal (that is R+L=J), Ned’s conversation with the three kingsguard plays into one of the key motifs in Jon Snow’s arc - that is his identity as the king. Not a king. But THE king.

What makes the three part revelation so interesting in this passage is that not everyone has figured R+L=J out. But to the astute observer, this key passage is just another piece of important evidence that plays into the hidden prince trope that RLJ falls under. And not only that, it yet another instance of Jon being recognized as the true king by the narrative.

[stewy]

caden @transmutationisms tagged me indirectly by saying WOMEN so

tagging pookies @silverdoe @lewyn-martell @harmonicabisexuals

[warsofasoiaf]

Was the outcome of the battle of the Trident solely dependent on who prevailed in the dual between Robert and Rhaegar? Or perhaps to rephrase it, do we get a sense of the course of the battle independent of these two actors?

We know a little bit. We know that Rhaegar commanded his personal unit, with the other three being commanded by Barristan Selmy, Lewyn Martell, and Jonothor Darry.

The Dornish were on Robert's left flank, which means that Rhaegar placed them on the right. Lyn Corbray's father fell in battle, and Lyn himself took up Lady Forlorn and charged the Dornish lines, slaying the wounded Lewyn Martell. That suggests that the Vale troops, under Jon Arryn, were placed to Robert's left.

Jason Mallister slew three of Rhaegar's bannermen, which means they were either houses of the Narrow Sea or they were houses hand-picked by Rhaegar to serve under his personal command.

Roose Bolton counseled for Barristan to be slain, but given that Robert was present, it doesn't mean much. While Ned says that he was lucky that Barristan didn't find him, this does not necessarily imply that the Northmen faced Barristan's unit. Eddard could have just been speaking figuratively.

We don't know who killed Jonothor Darry, only that he died.

So we have an idea where Robert and Rhaegar were, and where the Vale and Dornish were. The rest is speculative. Given Robert's high regard for Eddard, it's possible he may have given Eddard command of the van, but he also may have formed four armies to match Rhaegar's four armies: under Jon, Hoster, Eddard, and himself.

Thanks for the question, Ekendall.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King