The Emancipation of Rhaegar

Chapter 60

Hail

Kingslanding – The Throne Room

Aerys' funeral had been one that lasted seven days, with the seven bells ringing loudly for the King's death, many of the cities people had come to see the King who had caused them such hardships up close – he did not look so mad. Perhaps that was because he lay resting on the stone bed and his finger was not directed at his next victim.

It was not known that Rhaegar had killed his father, bar from those who had witnessed it – and Rhaegar trusted them with the secret. They swore to never speak of it. To everyone, Aerys had died peacefully in his sleep, taken by the Crone in the dead of the night as his path dictated. Arianne had suggested Rhaegar stay in the Kings room, as a bloody Prince walking about the Keep, even if the Kinds room to Rhaegar's room was a short walk, someone would see. She had also dragged him to the Kings private bath, having had a maid leave water outside she made sure to get every last stain of blood from Rhaegar's body.

He had taken off his decorated jacket and found one that the King had worn in his younger days. It still felt wrong, wearing his father's clothes. Wearing the clothes of a man he'd killed. Wearing the clothes of his father, who he killed. He watched solemnly as the pregnant Arianne wiped the floor clean with a rag, the pristine white of Arthur's cloak now with spots of brown at its ends. He couldn't even bear to watch as the King was lifted from the floor by Jaime and Otto, undressed by Arianne and redressed by Arthur. Arianne instructed Jaime to pick up the dirty bucket of water and he threw out as quietly as he could outside. She held her hands behind her back and winced.

Rhaegar watched Arianne called for Nymella once she could take no more, and the young Toland girl cleaned the King's mouth and swore to be the one to clean him for his funeral.

They were now stood in front of the summoned Southern lords and ladies, with many pledging alliances to Rhaegar against Brandon now Aerys was dead.

The Throne room had been hastily decorated, not to lavish extents, but it looked as if a Prince was to enter and King to leave from it. Rhaegar and Arianne were stood in front of the High Septon, near the Iron Throne, with pillows at their feet. Rhaegar held a sword by his side, one that was much bigger than the one he had wielded as a Prince, he wore his dark armour with a jewelled three-headed dragon at its heart. Arianne stood next to him, wearing a dark red dress in an effort to blend in with Rhaegar. It was loose-fitting, modest and had sleeves that stopped at her elbows.

The High Septon shuffled from Julian, who Rhaegar had begged forgiveness of and asked to stand by his side, and took the Prince's new crown into his hands. He instructed Rhaegar and Arianne to kneel on the pillows provided for them, which they did – Arianne needing a little help as she could not go as far down.

He held the large crown over Rhaegar's head, it wasn't Aerys' and was one that Rhaegar had commissioned in haste. There was no way he'd wear the same crown that saw his father to insanity. This one was dark, with large red jewels placed at key points. He had a similar one for Arianne made, but hers had smaller and daintier jewels thrown around it in no particular fashion.

"May the Warrior grant him courage, may he be given the strength to protect the realm and may he be protected in these dark times. May the Smith grant him strength and that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Rhaegar of the House Targaryen First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign," he placed the crown over Rhaegar's freshly washed hair, it was growing and had been braided neatly to keep from falling in front of his face.