The Emancipation of Rhaegar

Chapter 15

Fifteen

Rhaegar heard the screams of the crowd as his tip of Arthur's lance hit him full force, his skull ringing and filling his ears with unwanted sounds. He was glad that the maids had not mentioned breakfast, for nausea was making its way from his stomach to his throat. The tip of Rhaegar's lance had thrown Arthur from his own horse, pushing the crowd to chant for the Prince loudly. Rhaegar let go of his horse, allowing the steed to make its own victory lap for he was too busy ridding himself of his helm. His squire, a boy from house Sunglass, took Rhaegar's helm and the leather ropes of the horse.

"Well ridden my Prince," Lord Whent announced as he waddled over to Rhaegar. In his hands, the crown for his Queen of Love and Beauty. Rhaegar almost feared touching it, it seemed too beautiful to simply give to someone. The crown was a twisted wreath of black burnt vines, winter roses, so blue it would put the sky to shame, and sprinkles of jewels. He took the crown in his hands, thanking Lord Whent as he did so, took the ropes back from his squire and led his horse to the stand where his wife sat. He looked around, he had put too much thought into it that he considered throwing the damn thing into the air and crowning the ghosts of Harrenhal if need be.

But, he was married, and he was obliged to hand it to his off. So why weren't his hands nor mind willing him to give it to his wife? He neared the stand, his eyes flew to Lyanna Stark. She was sat between her brothers and wore the colours of the North, grey, and grey. Arianne sat beside her eldest brother, Brandon, she wore a green dress accompanied by a red necklace, one she seemed fond of recently. And his wife, sat behind them, next to his mother and father, stone face. Elia crossed her arms over her chest, daring Rhaegar to give the crown away. Any choice he would make would be the wrong choice.

Though he did not want to know it, he knew exactly who he was crowning. Rhaegar cleared his throat, pulled his sword from his side, placed the crown that the tip of it, leaned forward and gently lay it on her lap. It felt as if a giant had held his breath inside the stands for what came next couldn't even prepare Rhaegar.

...

Brandon, who was sure that Ser Arthur Dayne threw himself from his horse, clapped along with the crowd as the Prince removed his helm and took a victory lap around the pit. He had been bested by Ser Barristan, and Ser Barristan by Ser Arthur. Brandon doubted that Rhaegar's experience, when compared to Ser Arthur, could match up. That and he refused to allow himself to believe that the Prince to be as deceitful as he had been.

"Looking for something?" Brandon spun around, at the door stood Lysa Tully, arms crossed over her chest.

"Lysa?" Brandon frowned looking at the girl who was soon to be his good sister.

"My Lord," Lysa responded, smiling to the older boy as she made her way into the room. "Your sister seems ready to leave." She said pointing to the packed trunks.

Brandon nodded his head, his lips turning into a thin line. "What are you doing here?"

Lysa smirked nearing Brandon, who was stood in front of the dainty mirror. "Celebrating Meredith's name day."

"Merida." He corrected, trying to move away from her.

"What?" Lysa frowned, pulling him down to sit on the plush seat.

"Her name." He was in the worst possible situation. "It's Merida." The door was left ajar, and at moments notice anyone would walk in on them and suspect the worst. At least whore's didn't have names to them, but a noblewoman. His betrothed's sister of all of them.

"Someone was in here before. A girl looked to be a maid of some sort. She wore a tattered dress. Maybe she has what you're looking for?" Lysa said, rubbing his shoulders as she did so.