"At this point, I feel as though I've seen everything."
This whole trip to secure the dragons had become so abnormal that Rhaegal felt lucky that his mind was still intact. First it was the distorted voice, then the female voice, and now it was a talking crow with three eyes. If he were a normal person, then he would have probably broken down by now.
When was it going to end?
"Nothing is ever simple, is it?"
Worse still, Rhaegal was actually talking to the crow! Honestly, sometimes he wondered if having magic was worth the hassle of all these phenomena.
"You're not surprised." The voice coming from the crow was clear and easy to understand. It was smooth, but that just made it all the more eerie to Rhaegal. Just how could a crow talk? More than that, how could a crow have three eyes?
"You have to hide behind your animals, skinchanger?"
"Figured that part out as well?"
"Of course. I've had my red priestess burn down so many of yours. Despite that, you keep coming back."
"Not mine. Companions. There are more than just one of us who are interested in you, Rhaegal Targaryen."
He'd heard that many times now.
"I feel lucky."
"We do not."
"Oh?" Rhaegal cocked his head, amused. "Are you mad that I messed with your prophecies?"
The crow did not respond right away. Perhaps it was surprised by his words. Rhaegal did not know.
"So you know of that as well."
Rhaegal scowled. "There's no need to play coy. You're in my mind. You know what I've been through as of late. Although…." Gold flames started to gather beneath his feet, melting the snow around him with ease. "This time I can move just fine. I guess you were too hasty in bringing me here."
"You let me in."
"Figured that out, did you?" Rhaegal said sarcastically. "Honestly, I wasn't sure if it was going to work. Maybe it's because we're in the North. Or maybe it's just Winterfell. But your powers are stronger here. My red priestess has had to use all of her self control to not burn the place to the ground."
The crow said nothing.
Rhaegal did not mind as his flames began to die down. "I was just going with the flow, as it were, but I guess I can wield my defenses to go down to an extent if I focus enough. That's good to know."
"You figured that out by instinct?" The voice from the crow sounded bemused. "The growth of your magic is….problematic."
"Probably because I'm not supposed to be here. Or something like that."
"So we've gathered."
We?
"Tell me, Rhaegal Targaryen. How does it feel knowing that your birth may lead to the destruction of everything?" The crow said.
What kind of question that? Nevertheless Rhaegal decided to humor him.
"I can't answer that, not truly. It's not as though I asked for any of this."
"Indeed. It was not your choice. Regardless, your birth reeks of intervention."
"Oh?" Rhaegal started to pace in front of the weirwood tree. "Are you trying to figure that out as well? Or have you already? Do you know who's responsible?"
The crow did not answer.
"Your silence annoys me."
"The circumstances of your birth are irrelevant now." The crow ignored his question. "The fact is that you are here now, and you have caused changes that have altered the natural flow of time. All of our plans. Our expectations. They are all meaningless now. The way to correct the erosion of the weirwood trees. Everything has been destroyed by you."
Erosion of the weirwood trees?
Rhaegal's eyes drifted down back to the tree. The face stared back at him, its face distorted like it was screaming in pain. Once again, it looked like it was weeping. It was disconcerting in more ways than one.
"So these things are connected then."
"Time has distorted many facts," the crow said. "Legends mixed with truths. Villains beheld as heroes. Past kings, now just servants."
"That means little to me."
"Your arrogance astounds me." The three eyes stared deeply into Rhaegal, but he did not flinch. "Do you believe your abilities will be enough to stop what's coming? Brute force is not enough. There were some who tried such methods, but rather than fixing the problem they merely delayed it. Now, here we stand, thousands of years later, still paying for their mistakes."
"It's not like I have all the answers," Rhaegal conceded. "However, I still caught a glimpse of the future. My family dead. My dynasty ruined. Did you expect me to just sit back and do nothing?"
"Your soul is not human, but it appears that your mind still is. Your desires are small. Insignificant. For thrones of man mean little for what's to come."
"And that's where you're wrong. I can grasp more than one thing."
"You are but a child, after all."
Rhaegal was quickly losing patience. "Are you here merely to try and insult me?"
"I expect you to see reason."
"Meaning?"
"You cannot continue to intervene."
Before Rhaegal could respond, the snowy field began to morph. There were many scenes that played out before his eyes, each one more confusing than the last. He saw a dragon and a wolf together on top of a tower. He saw a man with a wolf's head in a bright blue wall. He saw a chained wolf with wings trying to break free. He saw a lion with the head of a dragon. He even saw a dragon with the head of a wolf.
Rhaegal's brow furrowed as the scenery began to return to normal, leaving him once again standing in front of the weirwood tree surrounded by snow.
"You're not just a skinchanger, are you?"
"Wargs are more common than you think. Even before your birth, many existed in the North…and in other places."
Was that right?
"No, what I possess is even more rare. Which is why I left behind my old life. My desires. All in service of the common good. Your great grandfather understood this. It's why he allowed me to go north and prepare for the real fight."
What?
Rhaegal's curiosity peaked. He was starting to become annoyed with all these talks of prophecies and the damage that his birth had caused them. He was in no mood to get a lecture from some unknown warg who thought himself better. But this? The fact that this skinchanger knew Aegon V personally changed things.
"You knew my great grandfather?"
"While he was your great grandfather, he was my great nephew. One of the more competent ones. Although in the end he too was driven mad by the dragons."
Rhaegal's mind stopped on the first half of the crow's words. It did not take him long to figure out who the crow actually was, for there was only one person who matched the crow's description up to this point.
"You're the one they called Bloodraven. Brynden Rivers. One of Aegon IV's bastards."
And Rhaegal's ancestor.
"That was me, once." The crow's eyes seemed full of scorn for a second, but the second passed. Rhaegal wondered if he imagined it. "But I abandoned that. For I was born with a rare gift, even more rare than warging. I was a greenseer."
A greenseer. This was the first time Rhaegal was hearing the word outside of a book. The library in the Red Keep had an impressive collection of tomes that spoke of many different magics in the world. It no doubt paled in comparison to what the Citadel had, but there were mentions of men capable of having powerful visions outside of dragon dreams. There were many legends surrounding these magical users when magic was more common in Westeros. Too many for Rhaegal to count. To know that one of his ancestors was one of them was….shocking to say the least.
What was next? Was Shiera Seastar also a blood witch as well?
"So, a Targaryen is still alive this far north…" Rhaegal wasn't sure what to make of this. "And he has magic of his own."
All the stories from Bloodraven's era made sense now. Why he had been such an impressive Master of Whisperers when he served on the small council.
"Did you think you were the only one?"
"In a way? Yes."
"I have seen many things. What I showed you is but a glimpse of what the future could have been. Now? Now we are blind, for the future is no longer fixed, and we can no longer guide it."
It seemed as if with dragon dreams, green dreams were also maddeningly symbolic.
Still, Rhaegal's mind was resolute. "Your future would have seen my family suffer." His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you are strong. Perhaps you do know more than I. However, I will not bow to you."
The crow stared down at him in silence before speaking. "You share our family's arrogance, I can tell that much."
"I like to think of it as common sense. The future is not a fixed outcome. There are always ways to alter it. Perhaps you've been stuck dreaming for too long to see this simple truth."
"When it comes to our enemies, there is but one way. Our way." The crow paused before adding, "It does not appear that you want to work with us."
Rhaegal shook his head. "That work involves stepping out of the way and doing what exactly?"
"If you would not kill yourself, then disappear. Your brother had a role to play. In time, he would have understood this in his own way. One of the heroes would have been born from him. An actual hero, not you. One possessing both fire and ice."
Ice?
"Our family is not the only one who has a history of magic. Westeros is full of them. Even if they have forgotten that truth, the past remains. Fire alone cannot burn away the filth that has tainted the land."
Of course the bastard was going to keep things vague. The truth was just too hard to share, was it?
'No. He just doesn't trust me.'
By this point, Bloodraven no doubt understood that Rhaegal was not on his side. Knowing this, the old man was going to keep whatever information he had close to his chest unless absolutely necessary.
Regardless, Rhaegal was able to acquire a lot of important information with this meeting. Most importantly, he now knew who was one of his stalkers. He never expected it to be an ancestor of his in the form of a crow, but this was the world he was living in. Things were just never straightforward.
"Before you return to your schemes, tell me one thing. Where is Dark Sister?"
"You still-"
"You may not care, but I do." Rhaegal cut him off, almost scowling. "Dark Sister represents our house's legitimacy. It's part of our legacy, and I mean to see it return to us. While you fixate on the unknown, my eyes can see more than one thing at a time."
The crow, or Bloodraven or whatever it was, regarded him with silence once more. For a moment, Rhaegal feared that his ancestor wouldn't answer him out of spite.But the crow did speak again. "You have no need to regard me as your enemy. Fighting you would accomplish nothing. It would only weaken us." Somehow, Rhaegal doubted that. "You will find what you seek when you journey north. Take it as a sign of goodwill from us."
Rhaegal couldn't help but snort in derision. "You want me to kill myself, and now you talk about goodwill?"
The man must be out of his mind.
"You will understand in time." The crow turned its head down toward the tree. "The world has been corrupted. Long ago, these trees were as green as emeralds. If you want to learn the truth for yourself, go to the one place where they remain. Where your brother would have gone to better understand what is really needed for the future." Its head turned to him. "The cold grows restless. It took us a few years to understand, but your presence in Winterfell has revealed the truth to all. Your fire is like a beacon. Be careful that it does get snuffed out or controlled, as Eldric's once was."
Eldric?
"What are you-"
The words died out in Rhaegal's throat.
The world was morphing again, consumed into a dark void. For a moment it appeared as if Rhaegal was going to be consumed by it as well.
Instead, he was ejected from it, flying back into the depths of an even stronger darkness.
Then his vision went black.
---
Rickard Stark stood inside the closed bridge connecting the Great Keep to the armory. From here, he had a great view of the main courtyard down below where many of the lords had gathered with their men in order to practice their sword arm. And to show off no doubt. Northern lords were rarely subtle about anything. It helped that some of the prince's men had joined. His two Kingsguard in particular were like a raging river, swift and powerful. Barristan Selmy had already defeated Lord Umber with ease, a feat that not many could boast. Not with the man's size and power.
For Rickard, his mind was not focused on the sounds of laughter and steel clashing against steel. No, he was too preoccupied with thoughts of the previous night.
Two more dragons had emerged into the world, and Rickard had seen it happen with his own eyes. Despite the North's more open nature when it came to magic, Rickard had rarely taken it seriously. He had never seen it with his own eyes, and it was difficult for a man to take the unknown wholly serious. Sure, the Wall was impressive, but those were feats of the past. They held no meaning in the present.
How wrong he had been.
Rickard could scarce believe the world that he now found himself in. What was there for him to do now moving forward? He had never felt so insignificant.
"My lord." Maester Walys came to join him, stopping beside him. "You seem troubled."
Probably because Rickard was not making any attempt to hide it, not when he was alone like this.
"Did the prince's maester have anything interesting to say?" Rickard asked his own question instead.
"No, my Lord. The man has only been interested in reviewing the texts that we keep in the library." Walys' mouth thinned. "I made mention of certain rumors to him, such as the prince's decision to surround himself with members of the Alchemists' Guild. Other than mocking my attempt to fish for information, he would not say anything specific."
"Perhaps you've spent too much time in the North, my old friend." Rickard chuckled softly. "You're as bad when it comes to the game as I am."
"Perhaps so." Walys smiled for a moment before it disappeared, replaced by a contemplative look. "You sound defeated, my Lord. Are you thinking of the prince and his dragons?"
"What else could it be?" Rickard clenched his fist at his side. "You have offered me sound advice all these years, maester. But now, none of it makes a difference."
"Dragons have a way of complicating things indeed," Walys said. "Has the prince made a difficult offer to you?"
"It's the opposite. It almost sounds too good to be true."
"And you believe that it is."
"I no longer know what to believe." And that was the truth of the matter. In a single day, Rhaegal Targaryen had flipped the board upside down. "I believed that alliances with the south would strengthen my kingdom. For too long my people have suffered with no end in sight. I thought I was doing the right thing by turning south despite what my predecessors might think of me for it."
"I counseled you on that very thing, my lord. If you would have it, then I offer my counsel once more."
Richard just gave him a nod in approval.
"Accept the prince's offer. And do not look back."
Rickard's brow furrowed. "You advise me to turn my back on Jon Arryn?"
"Not necessarily." Walys seemed to take a moment to consider his words carefully. "The prince is now the most powerful man in Westeros. And that includes his father. This is undeniable. I may be in the North serving you and your house, but as you know I still have my contacts with several colleagues throughout the realm. The prince has a powerful presence in the realm already. And this was before the dragons. There will be many lords who will be eager to get in his good graces. Why should the Starks be left behind?"
Rickard considered the man's words. It was exactly what he had already been thinking. It felt comforting to hear someone else's perspective on the matter.
"I would advise you to tell the same thing to Lord Arryn. I believe the man is more proud than he would like to admit, and he believes himself to be more wise than the crown."
Rickard withheld a scoff. "You didn't mention this to me before when he first approached me," he joked.
"That is because it wasn't prudent," Walys replied with a small smile. "As I've said, dragons have a way of complicating things. Furthermore, you just admitted to me that the prince's offer is not a bad one."
Yes. It was not.
"I have served your family for most of my life now," Walys added softly. "I know I'm not long for this world. I would rather leave you with sound advice than to see your family brought to ruin before I'm gone. The Targaryens are not known for their half measures, and they have little reason to bend to the whims of the other lords now. I suggest you don't let your stubbornness lead you down a path that will spell your end, my lord. Greed has been the downfall of too many great men."
Walys was the only man in Winterfell who was so frank with him, and it was times like this that Rickard appreciated it the most. A part of him had thought to see if he could play both sides. A fleeting thought perhaps, but it was there. Perhaps he had been influenced by Jon Arryn a little too much. Or maybe he simply wanted more than he ought to.
Another part of him felt guilty about leaving Jon Arryn to dry. There was no official alliance between them, but a friendship had formed.
But Walys was right. He didn't have to abandon Jon. He could explain the situation to the man, to make him realize that the situation had changed. They were not dealing with a weakened crown. Not anymore. Rickard would set aside his stubbornness for the good of his people, for the prince's offer was indeed a good one.
And the North always remembered.
A sense of calmness settled over Rickard as his mind finally settled firmly on a single path.
It was just in time for him to hear the cheers coming from the training yard escalating.
---
Brandon Stark was enjoying his day. He had gotten up early despite some of the drinking that he had done, against his mother's wishes no less. Unfortunately, he had been enjoying his freedom at Barrowton too much and forgot about his mother's presence at the feast. Thankfully, since the princes were here, his mother had been unable to berate him at the feast. Public appearances and all that. He wouldn't be safe from her wrath after they were gone, but that was for future Brandon to worry about.
Right now, the present Brandon was enjoying watching the prince's men spar with several lords and other Northerners who wanted to test their luck.
So far, it had been an overwhelming victory in the favor of the prince's men.
Sure, Ser Brynden Tully was the worst one of the three, but he was still skilled enough to win several matches and earn the respect of the lords gathered here.
The strongest of them was Ser Barristan Selmy. Honestly, the way the man moved was just unfair. He had both speed and power, and the stamina to match. It was like he was dancing around his opponents. He had disarmed Lord Umber with one quick strike, sending the large man's axe flying.
It was inspiring.
It also felt a bit humiliating to have so many of their warriors lose to southern knights.
The North took pride in its demanding environment. To them, those in the south were coddled and weak.
After today, Brandon was going to have to reevaluate this opinion.
Brandon was also itching to test his own skills, but even with his temper he realized that he stood no chance against any of these men. They were older than him. They would quickly beat him down, and Brandon wasn't crazy enough to get humiliated in public like this.
Still, he was itching for a fight.
Almost like the old gods were answering his prayers, Brandon noticed Rhaegal stepping into the courtyard. The prince had been missing all day, and many wondered if something had happened to keep the prince bedridden for almost half a day.
It didn't take Brandon long to deduce that something had probably occurred when his eyes landed on the two new dragons currently resting on the prince's head. One was a pure bronze color with a set of striking brown eyes to match. Only its wings appeared to be a lighter shade than the rest of its body. The other was a silvery dragon with a beautiful set of blue eyes. As much as the dragons put him on edge at times, Brandon would not lie: he thought the silver hatchling was the most beautiful one.
Word had spread throughout the castle earlier in the day that the prince now had two new dragons with him. How this was possible no one could answer. Brandon suspected that his father might know, and the way Lyanna had been giggling during breakfast when the news was delivered also made him suspicious. Annoyingly, neither his father nor his sister had told him anything even after he asked them.
"My prince." The two Kingsguard went to greet the approaching Rhaegal right away. Ser Brynden was more slow in his movements, but he still showed his deference as he followed his fellow knights.
"Someone is finally up." The Dornish prince said with his usual smirk. Brandon had not spoken with him yet. "I suppose you had a more exciting night than the rest of us."
Brandon understood what the Dornish prince was getting at, but rather than answering directly Rhaegal just smiled.
"Winterfell has been full of surprises. I shall remember it for many years to come."
It sounded like a compliment, but Brandon still felt like it was not. Not fully. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself as the prince exchanged greetings with his friends.
"You see the sword, don't you?" one of the Umbers said. Brandon recognized him. He was Mors Umber, and like the rest of his family he was huge.
"Hard not to." Rickard Karstark, the heir to Karhold, snorted. "That thing is Valyrian steel. No doubt about it."
"I thought the Targaryens had lost theirs."
"They had also lost their dragons. Neither look lost to me."
Several of the men listening in shared a small laugh.
Brandon's eyes were following the sword. It looked different from Ice. He was a bit envious that the prince could carry a legendary sword around like that while he still had to wait for his turn, but he didn't let that get to him as he began to approach the prince.
"Prince Rhaegal. I'm happy to see you here."
The prince, along with his dragons, turned toward him. The others did the same as well, but Brandon kept his gaze fixed on the prince.
"Brandon Stark." Rhaegal cocked his head in his direction. "Enjoying all the sparring sessions I imagine."
"Indeed I am. I hope to become a fighter of renown myself one day, such as your knights."
Ser Brynden chuckled at this. "The young. Always impatient to get to the finish line."
Ser Gerold Hightower raised an eyebrow. "Already considering yourself past your prime, Blackfish?"
"I never said that. I think I'm more than capable of putting these young ones in their place still."
He had knocked the Greyjoy and Baratheon around more than a few times so far.
"It's always the older knights you have to worry about," Arthur Dayne spoke up. "They've survived for a reason."
"Well said," Ser Barristan agreed.
That, or they picked their opponents wisely, but Brandon kept that thought to himself. For he was already eyeing his true prize.
"What say you, Prince Rhaegal? Interested in sparring against me?"
His declaration caused many to turn toward them. Instantly his fellow Northerners looked eager at the prospect. The heir of the North against the heir to the Iron Throne. It was the kind of matchup that inspired songs.
Rather than answering right away, Rhaegal took a moment to glance around the courtyard before looking back at him and smiling.
"If you think me worthy of the honor."
Was that a jest? Brandon wasn't certain, so he didn't dwell on it. No, he just focused on the excitement he felt as he slipped on his Northern armor while Rhaegal borrowed a set for himself. Apparently the prince's personal set had been destroyed on Skagos. His dragons did not join him, choosing instead to join their sibling who was with the prince's twin brother.
There were cheers from the others as Brandon and Rhaegal stepped into the makeshift circle in the middle of the yard. Brandon tuned them out as he unsheathed his steel bastard sword. It was well made, but it paled in comparison to the prince's bastard Valyrian steel sword.
"Live steel, is it?" Despite his words, the prince readied himself into a defensive stance.
"Would you prefer we fight as girls do?" Brandon taunted.
Rhaegal just looked amused. "You misunderstand me. I only worry for you. Brightflame is not your average Valyrian steel sword."
Brightflame. So that was its name. Good to know.
True enough, unlike Ice, Brandon spotted several distinctive markings on the blade. He did not know what they were or what they signified, but Brandon kept his cool. Valyrian steel was impressive, but a sword was still a tool in the end. And a tool was only as good as the one who was wielding it.
The two began to circle one another as more of their observers cheered for them. It was mostly the Northerners, although the Dornish prince and the Tyrell looked like they were joining in too.
Brandon wasn't one to wait, however. Rather than be on the defensive, he preferred to have the initiative. And so, he stepped forward, both hands gripping his sword, as he delivered a powerful strike from above. He wanted to see if the prince's body was just for show. It was nothing more than a testing strike.
The prince reacted quickly by lifting his blade with a straight arm and deflecting Brandon's blow by using the edge of Brightflame, which pushed Brandon's blade to the side. Brandon also found himself losing his footing, which made him realize that he might have gotten too overzealous with his strike and not kept his foot placement properly.
The prince's counterattack came swift as he immediately followed up his perfectly executed parry with a riposte.
Brandon felt the blade of Brightflame stop right on his shoulder, with the prince smiling at him.
"Do you yield?"
Well. He hadn't wanted to embarrass himself, but in the end it appeared as if Brandon had done just that!
Swallowing his pride, Brandon slowly nodded. "I yield."
It burned his blood to say that. He was used to winning against opponents his age. Even some of the older fighters were bested by him more than half the time. But the prince had defeated him in two simple moves!
Despite his embarrassing showing, his fellow Northerners didn't seem to mind it as their cheers increased. Brandon understood why. If there was one thing they had in common with the kingdoms in the south, it was the fact that they respected martial prowess.
And their future king had just shown himself capable of that.
"Haha!" As Brandon and the prince stepped back from one another, the Dornish prince walked up to them while laughing. "Don't take it too personally, wolf! You stepped into our prince's preferred style of fighting. While you look strong yourself, this one right here must be eating something special because he's packing some extra strength in that body of his."
Rhaegal looked exasperated. "You exaggerate."
'Probably not.' The prince had swatted Brandon's attack away like it was nothing. And he was used to being the biggest one in the training yard.
How humbling...and humiliating.
"Now that sounds like a challenge!" One of the Umbers stepped forward. It was Jon Umber, heir to Last Hearth. He was a couple of years older than both Brandon and the prince. "I would like to test my luck against you, prince!"
His declaration was followed by several others who were looking eager to test themselves against a Targaryen.
"And I wanted to take it easy today," Rhaegal said, bemused.
The Dornish prince snorted. "Should have stayed indoors then."
Shaking his head, Rhaegal stepped forward. "Might as well make it interesting. It's not every day that one gets to claim that they faced a giant."
Jon let out a laugh as overbearing as his body. "HAHA! Coming from you, prince, who faced those damned Skagosi in battle, I'll take that as a compliment!"
There were shouts of agreement from his other family members, which included his father.
From there, it was the prince who took center stage as he began to accept duels from anyone, lord and smallfolk alike. He was even lenient enough to show some of his magic to them, incinerating several practice dummies right before their eyes. It was no exaggeration to say that they were all mesmerized by the sight. To see a human create fire from nothing with total ease as if they were breathing was quite an experience. Brandon began to understand why some had considered the Targaryens to be gods amongst men in the past.
'This is my future king.'
Brandon was a sore loser, but in that moment he felt something akin to pride to know that his future king was such a capable warrior.
---
The feasts continued for around three more days in Winterfell. Despite wanting to return to King's Landing as soon as possible, Rhaegal found some amount of peace in the North. The lords had come to respect him. Brandon Stark as well. After their initial spar, the two of them had practiced a couple of more times, with Brandon eager to learn from him. After all, Rhaegal's teacher was Ser Barristan the Bold himself. No one else thus far had that honor.
It was just as Rhaegal had once said. In Westeros, martial prowess was the one thing that all lords could understand and respect.
Rickard Stark organized a hunt for them in the Wolfswood as well. Brandon was beside Rhaegal alongside the rest of his group the entire time. A bond of friendship had quickly developed between the two of them, forged by their mutual interests, and it was one that Rhaegal knew wasn't orchestrated by the boy's father.
Such friendships were truly worth more than gold, especially in a place like the North where the Starks were respected above all else. With Brandon's blooming friendship at his side, Rhaegal could tell that the Northern lords felt more reassured about the future. After all, it was the first time since the Dance that such a bond had been forged between a dragon and a wolf.
During this time, Rhaegal also had to suffer Lyanna's presence. He did not dislike the girl. She was an honest one and had no trouble speaking her mind, much to the anxiety of her father and mother. No, it was just that he had little interest in showing her his magical abilities every time that she was around him. At least Rhaegal could distract her by letting her pet Aegorax. Out of all the dragons, he seemed to be the most docile, which honestly suited Rhaegar's temperament just fine.
Their little brother Benjen did not speak much. He was apparently too shy to approach them. Arthur and Stannis still made an effort to try and include the boy, which surprised Rhaegal. He wasn't going to try and stop them, though.
Many questions still lingered in the back of Rhaegal's mind throughout all of this. Knowing that Brynden Rivers, one of the so-called "great bastards" of the Unworthy, was still alive somewhere and scheming put him on edge. Conversely, getting confirmation that the weirwood trees were at the heart of whatever was coming made Rhaegal feel vindicated.
Those trees just weren't right.
He shared some of this information with Melisandre, who just smiled at him. She didn't need to voice her opinion for him to know what she wanted to do.
At any rate, it couldn't all be good times. Soon, Rhaegal and his group departed from Winterfell with Rickard Stark as their guide. They were heading toward the Wall, the final stop of Rhaegal's Northern journey.
Along the way, they made a quick stop at Last Hearth, where Lord Umber shared with Rhaegal a "true northern drink."
Rhaegal had almost emptied out his stomach from one sip of the thing. He didn't ask how much alcohol was in that drink. Given the Umbers' immense size, they probably needed triple or maybe even quadruple the regular amount of alcohol in order to get drunk.
Rhaegal was big for his age, but he wasn't that big.
Nevertheless, the fact that he had tried it at all had apparently won him more favor with the man and his family.
If only all politicking could be so easy.
The temperature really started to drop around this time, and Oberyn and Euron were not shy about voicing their displeasure.
Poor Monford looked like he was going to pass out too.
Thankfully the dragons were okay. As a side note, having four dragons all over him was quite the experience. He was sure that no Targaryen in history had gone through something like this, and he was all for it.
Rhaegal could tell that the dragons were not fans of the cold, but they still endured it. Ancalagon went as far as to use his flames to warm them up. Or maybe he did it for fun.
It was the first time that Rhaegal was seeing the dragon's flames, and they were beautiful in a twisted sort of way. For his dragon's flames were the same color as wildfire, a twisted jade green that would one day consume anything or anyone in its path.
That color was going to follow Rhaegal for the rest of his life.
They encountered no resistance on their journey, and it wasn't long before Rhaegal and the others found themselves overshadowed by the behemoth that was the Wall. It was like a physical barrier that split the world into two. On one side was everything that they knew. The other? Nothing but uncertainty.
"Hmm." Rhaegal heard Melisandre hum as she rode beside him, her face full of contemplation. "Extraordinary. I never would have imagined it, but this feels….unique. Yes. One of the magical hinges of the world, right before us. A focal point." She began to smile. "I have little doubt. My magic will be strengthened here."
That was….dangerous to imagine. Her skills were already immense due to her connection to her so-called god. Now the Wall would supposedly strengthen her further?
Rhaegal was silently glad she actually heeded his commands, otherwise she would burn all of this to ash.
Rhaegal's focus returned to the Wall and its splendor. It was the kind of engineering that certainly dwarfed anything else in Westeros. It was not the kind of structure that man alone could build. Magic had to play a role, and not the kind he used either.
Ice magic.
A Stark was said to have built this. The woman from his vision had said something about "wolf mages" of the past.
Were the Starks of old ice mages? So not pyromancers, but some kind of cryomancers?
Rhaegal had no definitive proof of this, but in combination with Bloodraven's words, a lot of things would start to make sense if true.
He pushed that to the back of his mind as he spotted several people waiting for them in front of Castle Black. The castle itself was not as impressive as the Wall. Far from it. It was a collection of crumbling towers. Nothing more.
Hopefully that would change in time.
The one leading their waiting party was none other than the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch himself, the former Lord Qorgyle from Dorne. He had several of his brothers with him, and one of those brothers was none other than Aemon Targaryen, the last living son of King Maekar I. This was their first meeting, but despite the man's age some of his silver-gold locks still remained. Although now they were more gray than silver.
Lord Commander Qorgyle made to speak as they approached, but the words died in his throat when his eyes spotted the dragons. And this was before Rhaegal had a chance to get down from his horse.
His brothers were not faring much better.
"There are dragons."
"Five of them…."
"Impossible."
"We must be dreaming!"
This was the third time it was happening, and Rhaegal still had not gotten tired seeing people's reactions to his dragons.
Of course, the only reaction that truly mattered to him was that of his great uncle.
Aemon Targaryen was the last to react. He was not totally blind, but his vision wasn't what it used to be. And he had to squint in order to see what the others were seeing. Even then, it took Rhaegal and Rhaegar coming down from their horses to greet their distant relative for him to finally see the dragons with his own eyes.
When that happened, the tears from the man were inconsolable as he embraced Rhaegal with zero hesitation, catching him off guard.
"You actually managed to do it. You did it. You did it...! I cannot….I don't even know…."
The words would not come out.
It was the first time that Rhaegal had a weeping old man to take care of.
This was an experience that he could have done without.
---
The stunned Lord Commander allowed Rhaegal and his group to take refuge inside Castle Black during the duration of their stay. While the others explored the castle grounds and the Wall itself, something Rhaegal was very interested in doing for himself after he concluded his talks with the Lord Commander, the weeping Aemon led them to his private study inside the castle where they could have some privacy.
"I never imagined that I would live to see this day." Rhaegal patted the old Targaryen in the back as he continued to hug him and Rhaegar while the five dragons watched them curiously from atop the table set up in the room. "My brother and I used to dream about our eggs hatching, but they never did. And yet you've managed to do the impossible. You brought back the dragons! The prophecy is true!"
Despite his age, Aemon still had some strength left in him. It was surprising, but Rhaegal didn't dwell on that too much. He also suppressed his irritation at the mention of prophecies again.
"I suppose we were just lucky."
"I don't think luck had anything to do with it, brother," Rhaegar said with a dry tone.
Laughing softly with tears streaming down his cheeks, Aemon finally released them as he turned to look at the dragons in wonder.
"They're beautiful." He was practically cooing when he said this. "If only Egg had lived long enough to see this. That his sacrifice was not in vain."
Sacrifice?
Rhaegal and Rhaegar shared a look with one another before the former spoke up.
"Uncle, what does that mean? Sacrifice? I thought Summerhall was an accident."
This was not the topic that Rhaegal had imagined starting with, but his curiosity got the better of him.
His question had the effect of causing Aemon's mood to turn somber as he regained control of his emotions.
Wiping the tears from his cheek with the sleeves from his robes, Aemon replied, "I suppose neither of you know the truth of that day. I don't think Jaehaerys would have wanted to talk about it. He probably figured that moving on was the best course of action for the realm and for what remained of our family. Or maybe Egg never told him the full truth. I suppose that would have been a mercy."
Already Rhaegal did not like the sound of this.
"I once told Egg to kill the boy inside him," Aemon said as he gazed at the dragons with a faraway look. "This was back when he was declared king during the Great Council in 233 AC. That the realm needed a strong leader and that to be king sometimes you had to make choices that went against your desires. I regret saying that to him to this day. I think it drove him to make decisions that he probably wouldn't have otherwise. Then again, perhaps he was never too different from Daeron and Aerion. Dragon dreams took them both, and dragon dreams ended up taking him as well."
It was just as Rhaegal feared. "Uncle, are you saying that our great grandfather was a dreamer?"
"Yes. He started having dreams of dragons shortly before your births. He saw himself emerging from fire with dragons, and that consumed him. I'm not sure if his desperation forced him to believe that it was true, or if they were actually real. The dreams stayed with him, and he used your births as a cover up in order to gather our family in one place."
Rhaegal understood right away, and his blood ran cold. "He was going to use them as a sacrifice? In order to hatch the eggs?"
"....yes."
The admission was said softly, but both Rhaegal and Rhaegar heard it loud enough.
"That can't be." Rhaegar shook his head frantically. "Our great grandfather couldn't have been that kind of person!"
"He was a good man," Aemon said with a weak nod. "Even good men make terrible decisions in search of power."
Power?
"Aegon believed that the dragons would help him shape the realm as he saw fit. To help the smallfolk and bring the lords to heel. He had been warring with them throughout his entire reign, and he was tired of compromises." Aemon sighed here. "He forgot about the true purpose of dragons. Of Brynden's warnings. Why he and I came here. Brynden had already disappeared by then, so I suppose he stopped taking the warnings seriously anymore."
Rhaegal recalled Bloodraven's words. They matched what his uncle was saying now.
"I'm not sure how it went wrong," Aemon concluded. "Why the fires got out of control. I just know that our family suffered for it." Life returned to his eyes as he focused on the dragons again. "However, seeing this sight before me, seeing you two here, has made me realize that perhaps the sacrifice was necessary in order to get to this point."
"That's a dangerous way of thinking, uncle," Rhaegal warned him, remembering his visions of the other future without his birth.
"Do you disagree, nephew?"
"Yes. Letting yourself become consumed with thoughts of power can lead you down the wrong path."
Then again, was Rhaegal any different? He too had been consumed with thoughts of dragons and their return. It had worked out for him, but what if he hadn't succeeded? He would have just been another cautionary tale for those that came after him.
He had never once thought to sacrifice his family in order to achieve that goal, though, and Rhaegal hoped that he would never sink so low.
To think that his great grandfather whom Rhaegal, apart from his fanatical desire to help the smallfolk which turned the realm against him, had fondness of had become so consumed by prophecy in the end that it killed him….well, it was sad to think about.
Aemon just smiled at him. "I hope you are able to keep that part of yourself, my child. The Iron Throne has a way of changing those who sit upon it."
Rhaegal had no response to that while Rhaegar watched on in silence.
"All that said." Aemon turned toward his bed and began making his way toward it. "Dreams and prophecies are a strange thing indeed, but I believe that sometimes they can bring some good to our family."
Rhaegal was impressed to see him bend down to retrieve something from underneath his bed, and when he stood back up Rhaegal saw that it was a bundle of leather wrapping. The leather was worn, no doubt from time, but had still remained intact, but what interested Rhaegal and then Rhaegar was what the leather was wrapped around.
It was a sword, and the significance of it struck Rhaegal with a sense of satisfaction.
Dark Sister had finally been found again.