There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
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"Promise me, Ned. Promise me."
She was in a crypt, she thought; glancing around at the statues that lined either side. Kings or Knights or Lords or something that must have been courageous to have commemorated stone statues in their honour, swords sitting upon their laps. She could see their faces carefully, watching her as she walked further down the hallway, lights flickering fierce shadows.
Rhaenar hadn't started at a door but rather the ruins of a collapsed solar, statues just missing the tumbled stones. These men had faces of iron, some clean shaven, and some with shaggy beards but all with piercing eyes that followed after her.
It was cold, she noticed; damp clinging to the air and stones as she walked through. The ceiling high and vaulted, making it feel more sacred than it should. These were high halls for dead Kings, she mused, not trusting herself to smile.
There was no wind here though, suggesting that perhaps she was underground. Yet perhaps she should have realised that looking at the statues. Only the Targaryens would keep their Kings above ground, locked away behind the Faith of the Seven.
Her shoes clicked against the floor as she walked down the corridor, looking into each pair of eyes she passed. Rhaenar didn't belong here, she thought; judgement setting into their stone brows. There were narrow, winding stairs leading up. Her heart tugged at her, telling her to go up.
Music filtered from above, soft and almost disjointed as it hit her ears. Was it a harp she was hearing? She hurried, ears prickling at which solar she needed to join. Laughter filled her ears, soft and high pitched as she stopped close to the top.
A woman was stood dancing, laughter rolling from her moving figure as a man beside her played. She was smile, long faced with dark hair spilling across her shoulders and shining grey eyes. She had a wildness to her, a boisterous lady-likeness in the way she moved. The man, couldn't be more opposite with long tresses of white gold hair and smiling indigo eyes. He was straight faced, but a hint of smile lined him. They seemed so familiar, like she had known them before. So unlike the woman, the man was touched with melancholy, a constant hidden pain in his chiselled face.
What were they doing here dancing?
The man stopped playing, glancing over his shoulder at Rhaenar before a large smile broke out across his face, his body standing up. He was tall, his muscles large but not overly intimidating - he seemed regal. The woman beside him stopped, joining his side. They looked well matched, as though her intrusion wasn't an interruption at all. "Visenya." She called out, her voice tinged with an accent that Rhaenar had never heard of. The dark-haired woman called out with such a confidence, that Rhaenar almost said yes.
