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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Rhaenar knew the way before she had ever stepped in, a sense of deja-vu flooded her veins as the indigo darted around. Had she been here? Had she wandered these halls? She thought to herself as her gaze turned around the entrance, before stepping inside.
It hit her like a tonne of bricks, of Rhaegar, Rhaella, Ned, and her son. They'd all been wandering these halls, trapped within the earth like ghosts. Rhaegar sung beautifully, playing his harp for Lyanna before Rhaegar and Rhaella threw spats at one another. They'd told her of another, of her name; and she had just forgotten it? Like it was nothing? Nothing made sense, why she had chosen to remember now.
It still smelled the same, damp and filled with mildew, but old too - not from mustiness but from age where only time could give it such a heedy scent. Her feet knew where to take her as her mind drew blank, surrounded by flickering candles and the statues of the Stark Family. She recognised Ned, though the face wasn't right; she could still hear his voice within her head, of the deep tones and the rich accent. And his eyes, the care they held within them, and the pain. A victim of the Lannisters, of a cruel boy and a conniving woman.
Opposite him, stood Lyanna. Her face wasn't as detailed, but the delicateness of her was; her hand outstretched, possibility for a lover or a friend but instead filled with a flickering candle. Jon stood before her, his dark eyes like a storm as he focused upon her face. She knew he knew that she was there, that Rhae stood at the edge of his line of sight as his hand came out, urging her to come close.
She took it with a heavy sigh, his gloved hands rubbing against her own as her face found his furs. "You're back in your Targaryen wear." He muttered, his voice low as he took note of her armour.
"Your family will never accept me, it became apparent the other night." Her tone was clipped and unfriendly, but not angry like he anticipated.
"She doesn't know you." He began, Rhaenar not wanting to hear it as she pulled back her hand.
Their eyes met, neither moving closer as she took a careful step back. "And nor will she. We all make decisions, ones we like, ones we don't like. We accept the outcome for whatever it is." Rhae said. Sansa had made her decision, and Rhaenar's made hers. Now the chips had to fall as they may, tossed by Sansa's own hand. He didn't understand. "You didn't defend me Jon, against her - against any of them."
"They're my people, Rhaenar." That was his answer?
