Rhaegar rode with Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne. Jon Connington tagged along as well as they trotted behind King Aerys II's large carriage. "Why did he insist on coming last minute?" Rhaegar groaned to his friends.
"I'm not sure. It was sometime after that last small council meeting. Him and Varys had stayed behind, and after that he announced that he'd be accompanying you to the tourney." Arthur was close to his sworn brother and Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower, and sometimes took his position at the small council meetings.
"Do you think the spider discovered your plot?" Oswell never was too careful.
"What plot are you guys talking about?" Jon Connington pulled his mount up between Rhaegar and Arthur, trying to squeeze close to the prince.
"Keep your voice down, Jon. I will explain everything at the tourney." Rhaegar urged Balerion forward, leaving Connington to chase after his dust.
Rhaegar rode Balerion hard, leading him off into the woods that surrounded the God's Eye. He heard three set's of hoof beats behind him. He came to the edge of the God's Eye, dismounting and leading his destrier to drink. "Don't you think you should check on your wife, Rhaegar?" Arthur was the first to reign up beside him.
Jon followed shortly. "He doesn't need to hold her hand every second of the day. He is enjoying time with his friends now." Dayne shot the heir of Griffin's Roost a disapproving look.
"He's right, Arthur. She'll be fine. She's with her handmaidens." He stopped himself before mentioning how much he didn't care to see her anyway. The woman who had come north from Dorne was no longer the girl his father had forced him to marry. Two births had left her weak and sickly, though the last one gave him his son. Aegon, the Prince That Was Promised, or so he had thought. Rhaegar now knew that the Prince would need be of the Song. Why did the Spider see fit to help him with some certain ambitions, yet hinder him on others.
Oswell Whent reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a large skin of Dornish red wine. The group of friends sat in the grass, drinking and talking about their favorite moments from past tourneys. Oswell recalled the time Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, crippled Willas Tyrell during a joust. "The poor bastard's leg looked like a broken rose stem!" Whent bellowed, spitting wine everywhere as he laughed.
Rhaegar found himself growing disheartened at the sudden change of mood Whent brought out as he laughed at another man's misery and decided to pull his small golden harp from his saddle bag. It was much smaller than his prized silver harp that he carried everywhere, but that made it small enough to carry on horseback. The noise quieted down as Rhaegar perched himself up on a fallen trunk and crossed his legs beneath him.
He began strumming the chords as the two Kingsguard and Jon Connington gazed out across the river, listening to Rhaegar's music. He, himself let his eyelids fall shut. In his mind he let his thoughts carry him on to wonder about this Stark girl. Rickard had told Ser Oswell that he would be bringing his entire family along, including his daughter, Lyanna. Rhaegar knew his destiny the moment he read that scroll. As he plucked at the harp his mind kept racing around one thought: I hope this Stark girl is strong.
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The city was bustling around them as the prince and Ser Arthur Dayne trotted down the stone road. A detachment of Gold-Cloaks walked before them and behind them, forming a diamond shape in order to keep the rabble from getting too close to their prince. Rhaegar sat atop his black destrier, his silver locks flowing behind him as the wind ripped down the road. "So, what is so important that Pretty Prince Rhaegar has decided to muddy his boots in Flea Bottom just to have a look at?"
Rhaegar's dark lilac eyes fixed themselves on his friend and protector. "There is a small book shop down here." Dayne's white cloak rippled in the wind. Dawn clang against his white scaled armor with each bounce of his horse. Rhaegar always felt safe when his best friend was near. He had no need for armor. Instead, he had chose a red silk shirt and black trousers for the day's venture.
"And why," Arthur continued to press, "do we care about some book shop?" The people loved Ser Arthur Dayne. They rejoiced as the Sword of the Morning rode past them. They couldn't possibly be cheering for the prince, could they?
His squires followed along quietly behind the two companions. "We care, Ser Arthur, because the Spider has informed me that the owner is in possession of an ancient scroll. One he insisted I must read." Rhaegar and Arthur pulled up their reigns in front of a small building tucked between two larger ones; a brothel, and what appeared to be a soup house. "I am fairly certain this is where Varys said it was." The gold-cloaks formed a crescent around the door of the building, encompassing Rhaegar and Arthur as they dismounted. Arthur whistled and Myles Mooton, one of Rhaegar's squires took his Prince's reigns.
Rhaegar pressed his face against his destrier's own. "Wait for me, Balerion," he whispered into the horse's ear. Arthur followed his friend into the tiny shop. "Ah, Prince Rhaegar!" The old twig of a man looked at his two customers in utter shock. "What brings such royalty into my humble shop?"
He smiled at the elder, hoping to calm him. "I have come here because I heard you were in possession of an ancient scroll. One I have been told that I must look at right away." The old man shook his head. Had the Spider been wrong? No, Varys is never wrong.
Finally, the old man spoke up, explaining his expression. "I have received a number of scrolls in an expedition I had funded into the ruins of Summerhall." Rhaegar's face lit up as he recalled his favorite place. "I haven't the time to go through them, my self," the old man continued, "how did you hear of a certain one?"
Varys, and his little birds. Is there anything they don't know. "How I have come to know of these writings is irrelevant. I wish to see these scrolls. I will pay for those I end up taking, and rather handsomely." Without any hesitation the old man led Rhaegar to the back room, past a dark curtain.
He and Ser Arthur Dayne spent the rest of the afternoon reading, finally leaving the shop as the moon began to rise over the city. Rhaegar only carried out one scroll. "I must speak with Ser Oswell Whent. I must know who Rickard Stark is bringing south to the Tourney at Harrenhall."
Rhaegar's dark lilac eyes fixed themselves on his friend and protector. "There is a small book shop down here." Dayne's white cloak rippled in the wind. Dawn clang against his white scaled armor with each bounce of his horse. Rhaegar always felt safe when his best friend was near. He had no need for armor. Instead, he had chose a red silk shirt and black trousers for the day's venture.
"And why," Arthur continued to press, "do we care about some book shop?" The people loved Ser Arthur Dayne. They rejoiced as the Sword of the Morning rode past them. They couldn't possibly be cheering for the prince, could they?
His squires followed along quietly behind the two companions. "We care, Ser Arthur, because the Spider has informed me that the owner is in possession of an ancient scroll. One he insisted I must read." Rhaegar and Arthur pulled up their reigns in front of a small building tucked between two larger ones; a brothel, and what appeared to be a soup house. "I am fairly certain this is where Varys said it was." The gold-cloaks formed a crescent around the door of the building, encompassing Rhaegar and Arthur as they dismounted. Arthur whistled and Myles Mooton, one of Rhaegar's squires took his Prince's reigns.
Rhaegar pressed his face against his destrier's own. "Wait for me, Balerion," he whispered into the horse's ear. Arthur followed his friend into the tiny shop. "Ah, Prince Rhaegar!" The old twig of a man looked at his two customers in utter shock. "What brings such royalty into my humble shop?"
He smiled at the elder, hoping to calm him. "I have come here because I heard you were in possession of an ancient scroll. One I have been told that I must look at right away." The old man shook his head. Had the Spider been wrong? No, Varys is never wrong.
Finally, the old man spoke up, explaining his expression. "I have received a number of scrolls in an expedition I had funded into the ruins of Summerhall." Rhaegar's face lit up as he recalled his favorite place. "I haven't the time to go through them, my self," the old man continued, "how did you hear of a certain one?"
Varys, and his little birds. Is there anything they don't know. "How I have come to know of these writings is irrelevant. I wish to see these scrolls. I will pay for those I end up taking, and rather handsomely." Without any hesitation the old man led Rhaegar to the back room, past a dark curtain.
He and Ser Arthur Dayne spent the rest of the afternoon reading, finally leaving the shop as the moon began to rise over the city. Rhaegar only carried out one scroll. "I must speak with Ser Oswell Whent. I must know who Rickard Stark is bringing south to the Tourney at Harrenhall."
Prince Rhaegar Targaryen... and his harp.
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