'Did the end justify the means?
You be the judge.'
-Taken from 'The Later Musings of Rhaenar I Targaryen' by Brien et al.
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As it were, Prince Rhaenar had, for the lesser part of two years, disappeared.
That is not to say he fell off the map. Quite the contrary. His movements were simply unknown till, without warning, he appeared once more at Moat Cailin.
This time it was only Rhaenar and his Dragon.
The men there, uncertain what to do, fell back on the last order sent by the King. They were to refuse Rhaenar and his army, and to halt his advance north.
Rhaenar passed this obstacle with wordplay, pointing out that he had no army with him. If he came alone, advancing southward, on what grounds could they deny?
So he was permitted entry, and made use of the gracious hospitality of the lords and ladies from the North. What were they to do with Sundance looming at his side?
Rhaenar repeated this at every keep of importance. By the time word reached King's Landing, a common pattern had emerged.
There he would sup and tour and read and ask questions. Always the same questions:
Were there weirwoods nearby? How many still stood? Where were they? Could you take me to see them?
How many folk lived on the land? How many women? How many children? How many men? How did these numbers compare to prior generations?
Was there enough food for the coming winter? Had there been enough for the last?
What did they eat? What did they grow? What did they hunt?
How many fish in their streams? How many in their lakes?
If times grew lean, on how little could the people live on and endure?
How many fighting men could they raise? What was your population? Are these totals documented, or only from memory?
Were they well equipped? Well clothed? Warm enough?
How much fuel was burned each winter? Was it measured? Was it recorded? May I see these records?
How much food lay stored away? How long would it last if the roads closed?
And again, he would ask after the weirwoods. Where they were. How many. Could you take me to see them?.
At each stop, he spent hours poring over tomes, selecting which works the maesters were to copy.
Always two copies were required: one to remain at said keep, and one to be sent to Dragonstone, if they would be so kind.
Each work was paid for generously, with full reimbursement, whether coin for wages or materials for ink and parchment.
When he departed, Rhaenar asked that they write to Dragonstone should they ever need of aid.
Some of his inquiries were stranger than the rest. Were there caves nearby? Where were they? Had they been explored? Had there been any sightings of the Children of the Forest? When? Were they recorded? May I see these records?
One time in Winterfell, Rhaenar insisted on descending to the deepest parts of the Crypts.
In that tomb, older than the keep above it, he regarded each statue of past Kings of the Starks, every lord and lady, with solemn respect.
When they reached the oldest chambers, where the earliest kings were forgotten, he was dismayed to find sections of the crypts blocked by collapsed tunnels. He immediately offered to restore them free of charge.
All of this puzzled the Small Council and the King, who watched his movements closely.
The solo tour continued until The Wall. There he asked the same questions and was shown the same sights.
When Rhaenar pledged an annual flow of gold, grain, wool, fuel, and tools, and the like, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch could only shake his hand and thank him.
Rhaenar did not fly over The Wall. He stood atop its 700-foot battlements, gazing at the edge of the world.
No one knew why. Many times at supper he toyed, often and loud, with flying to Eastwatch, to cross the sea and enter the far north by that route. But in the end he did not.
With that, his strange procession through Stark lands ended, and Rhaenar faded into obscurity once again
Today, historians believe this two-year period can explain the gap in the Rhaenari records. From then on, the Prince and his scholars dated their writings differently.
The reason was never confirmed, and debates continue, especially among the more esoteric of learned men.
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Rhaenar was gone so long that even his usual presence at court — the enigmatic figure — was no longer so missed.
He was absent for the wedding of the King and Lady Hightower, now Queen Alicent.
He was absent for the birth of their first child, Aegon, and their second, Halaena.
The Queen was to expect a third when Rhaenar finally emerged from hiatus.
His return caused such an uproar, such a movement of people, that the Seven Kingdoms may never again witness such an exodus.
This all followed with the refusal of the Lord of Stonehelm to pay ransom when Lyseni pirates kidnapped his niece*, Johanna Swann.
No one could have guessed this would prompt Rhaenar's return.
Yet, once her capture became common knowledge — three moons past— and the day after the Third, a crier appeared in every town, port, village, and hamlet.
Each wore a silver wig and recited the same script. When asked their name, none would give it, styling themselves instead as The Voice of Rhaenar.
Standing on a box, they called~
'Hear me, hear me, people of Westeros!
'How many of our daughters must be defiled, our sons snatched, our mothers taken?
'How much of our fathers' blood spilt, before we take a stand?
'To those with courage, to those who stand for justice; for purity, I ask thee join me and rid these lands of fear.
Go! Go now and claim your destiny!
'At every port, a ship will take you. At every inn, you will be fed along the way. Any who wish to come will be compensated.
'We will protect our lands. We will protect our children!
'Go now, in the name of the Warrior,
Honor and glory awaits!'
So it was that folk, great and small, departed for the nearest centre where transport was promised.
It mattered not if many had never seen five miles beyond their birthplace, nor if their feet were shoe-less or stomachs empty.
They kissed their parents, hugged their young, and surged forth toward victory.
Driven only by a prince's word and the chance to be part of a song yet unheard, but certain to be like the ones they grew up hearing.