Heir of the Dragon

The Prophecy

The golden rays of dawn streamed into Rhaegar Targaryen's chamber, rousing him from slumber earlier than usual. His eyes, as sapphire as a summer sky, sparkled with determination as he prepared himself for the day ahead. His attire was immaculate, a doublet adorned with the three-headed dragon sigil of House Targaryen.

As he secured the last button, the door to his chamber swung open. Queen Aemma, his mother, entered, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of bemusement. "Rhaegar, my dear, why are you awake so early, and getting dressed by yourself? Where are your maids?" she inquired, her voice laced with intrigue.

Rhaegar, with composure befitting a prince, adjusted his attire and replied, "Mother, Grandfather has extended an invitation for me to join him for the morning meal. You know well he prefers to break his fast early. I could not waste my time waiting for them"

Aemma nodded knowingly. "Very well," she conceded, a soft smile gracing her lips. "You wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

With that, Rhaegar hastened his steps, making his way to the royal chambers. The vigilant guards announced his presence, and he entered the room, where King Jaehaerys was already seated, an air of contemplation around him.

"Good morning, Grandfather," Rhaegar greeted with a respectful bow, his demeanor earnest.

Jaehaerys acknowledged his grandson's presence with a nod, gesturing for him to take a seat. The room buzzed with activity as servants arranged an opulent medieval breakfast—fruits, bread, meats—all laid out for their enjoyment. Rhaegar took his place, and for a moment, both men admired the lavish spread before them in silence.

Once the servants had left, Jaehaerys rose from his chair, his movements measured, and approached the chamber door. He ensured it was securely closed, then turned to Ser Ryam Redwyne, the Kingsguard standing at attention. "Ensure no one disturbs us until we are finished here," he commanded solemnly.

With the room sealed, Jaehaerys returned to his seat, his gaze fixed on Rhaegar as if he were weighing the words to come.

Setting aside his utensils, Jaehaerys leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, "Rhaegar, I haven't slept well after what you revealed to me last night. My mind has been plagued with worries about the future."

With an air of seriousness, Rhaegar broke the silence, maintaining a reassuring smile. "There is no need for such apprehension, Grandfather. As of now, nothing catastrophic has occurred. We still have ample time to shape the destiny of House Targaryen."

Jaehaerys reclined in his chair, his violet eyes locked onto Rhaegar's. "Indeed, you speak the truth," he mused. "But now that I have something to strive for, perhaps I can prolong my days beyond what was predestined. And strive I shall, for the sake of our family, Rhaegar."

The Old King's eyes shone with unshed tears as he continued, "I have always been a King before anything else. Even when I should have been a Father and Husband I have prioritized being king, but not anymore, now I must work for the members of this family, for what is House Targaryen without its people?"

Their conversation shifted towards the formidable challenges that lay ahead. "Our most formidable adversary at present is House Hightower, particularly Lord Otto," Rhaegar declared with gravity. "Their ambition is to place one of their own blood on the throne, thereby diluting our Valyrian heritage with Andal customs."

Jaehaerys, his countenance grave, nodded in agreement. "I concur, Otto is a dangerous adversary. However, we cannot abruptly remove him from power without substantial cause, especially given his remarkable efficiency as Hand. For now, we must keep him under watchful eyes."