Rhaenar felt the sun upon her face before her eyes opened, the warmth bathing her skin beneath the thin dress she wore. Was she dead? Or was this a dream? Rhaenar couldn't tell the difference but the hand that was held in hers. "You have to keep hold of me." A voice told her, forcing her eyes to open as she turned.
Rather than the solemn Bran she had come accustomed to; a taller, happier Bran stood beside her, the chair gone as were their winter clothes. "How did you do this?" She asked, looking down at the pair.
He shook his head. "I told you, I don't know." He muttered as he looked around, their eyes peering up into the sky as they looked at the blueness. "We're in the past." He muttered, that was evident from the lack of snow that clung to the floor, from the blue sky and warm winds that engulfed them.
A laugh broke out from the field they were in, the pair turning as they looked. A young girl, similar in age to Bran burst from the treeline, boys hot on her tail as they chased after her, all with swords in hand. "Can they see us?" Rhaenar asked, confused as the girl turned, her sword clashing against theirs.
"No. This is just a replay of events, we're not technically here." It didn't settle Rhae as the pair watched the children. "That's Lyanna, Eddard, and Benjen." He muttered. Lyanna held a large grin on her face as she tugged her breeches further up; the darker hair boy turning on the older, more mousey haired boy to give her time before she then joined back in, swinging her sword.
"Where are we?" She asked, confused. Trees of orange, green, and bearing fruits sat around them; covering the emerald of the grass.
Bran turned with her, his own eyes taking it in. "I don't know."
Like that filled her with confidence, she thought sarcastically as she turned to him. "How do you not know? You put us here."
He shrugged. "I go off what I can remember, or at least what I think people have seen. When I understand more, I'll be able to be more specific." Bran explained, Rhaenar rolling her eyes.
"Oi! Get going you lot, before father kills us; you know he doesn't want to be late today!" A boy shouted from the other side, older than the others as his figure broke through the trees. The dark haired boy was the first to stop, rushing over to him with a smile as Eddard and Lyanna toyed with one another still.
She was beautiful; her nose the same as Rhae's - small at the bottom but wide at the top; her eyes like Jon's as she blinked thick lashes batting against her cheek as she grinned. Lyanna had high cheekbones, a square shaped face, and wide lips; her hair a wild mess of dark brown at her shoulders, playing at her waist. She was a blend of Rhae and Jon if they were made into one. "Let's go." Bran muttered, following behind the siblings, a frown on his brow.
"Any idea where we are yet?" She asked him, her eyes still looking around for any idea.
He nodded. "I have an idea." The two of them struggled to keep up behind the Stark's as they stumbled through the forest, the taller man must have been Brandon - the eldest of all the Stark children, and Bran's namesake. They were all still alive and young, which meant this was pre-war, before everything kicked off, before Rhaegar and Lyanna ran away - maybe before they even knew each other.
Her boots dug into the earthy ground, as twigs snapped beneath them; the teenagers disappearing through a break of trees in front of them. Bran and Rhaenar kept a tight hold of each other as they too broke through, the sun beating down upon them. The tall spires of Harrenhal pierced the sky, their mottled and crumbling stone glinting in the light. Harrenhal, they were at the tourney of Harrenhal? "What day of the Tourney do you think it is?" She asked him, looking across.
They couldn't see the people yet, just the garlands of blue roses that hung across the outer walls and the raucous laughter. "I don't know." Music could be heard, and animals, the loud toothing of a trumpet interrupting them all. It was beginning. Bran looked to Rhae, and she looked to him; nerves passing between them. "We can always go back."
Rhae shook her head, glancing back to the archway in the walls that stood between them and part of history. "No, we've come this far." Bran nodded before following behind her, the pair moving to the gates. Guards stood at either side, looking on menacingly as they held shields of nine bats sat upon a yellow sky. "They're going to turn us away."
"They also can't see us." Bran muttered, leading her forward with a determination as they slipped past; the guards not even battering an eyelid. "No one here will be able to see us, regardless of who they are." Rhae nodded, but the feeling still didn't settle in her stomach. It didn't feel right to walk amongst these people like a ghost.
"Could you make it so they could?" She asked him.
He shook his head. "It's better if we don't, one wrong move and history could change." History could change? They could go back and prevent all of this?
"Wait, if you have the power to change this, why haven't you? You could change all of this, leave them alive... Elia, Lyanna, and Rhaegar could all still be here." How could Bran not do that? He could save his father? All of his family? It didn't make any sense to her.
He shook his head. "No, that's an abuse of power." Bran warned but Rhaenar didn't understand it. If he had the power, why wouldn't he do it? "Look." He muttered, pointing ahead. Rhaenar's eyes shifted, facing to the direction. Seats had risen to one side, the people making their way over. The pair began to walk again, following the tails of the last people who were to join the stands.
It was the joust, the Targaryen banners flapping across a box as several others decorated the side. Bran leaned over. "Those flags represent the riders left." He explained. Targaryen, Dayne, and Selmy; were they the last few riders? She knew that Whent's sons had ridden, and the Freys.
"It's the last day, Barristan Selmy told me that Rhaegar had beaten him, and that's why he crowned Lyanna." It was Barristan's greatest regret of not beating him, of not stopping the war before it even began.
"There he is." Bran muttered, his dark eyes trailing across. The Dragon Prince stood to one side, his eyes searching the crowds. Rhae gasped. Rhaegar was something else, almost an image of Jon with pale hair as his indigo eyes seemed to focus on someone; his nose was straight, his jaw sharp, and dark brows sitting over those rounded eyes. He was magnificent, ancient Targaryen looking in black army, red rubies sitting upon his breast shaped like the Targaryen sigil.
The crowd roared, their shouts for their prince louder than she'd ever heard people cry out before as she looked all around. Beside him, stood Elia. She was as radiant as the sun, her portrait having done her no justice as she stood like a small flame beside him, her hand resting on his chest. The sunshine orange dress only brought out the olive tones of her skin, the red of her hair, and the shine in her eyes; complimenting her beautifully as her lips moved, speaking with Rhaegar. "Can we get closer?" She asked, curious over what was shared between the pair.
Bran nodded, taking her with him as they crossed the field before approaching the pair. Up close they looked like Gods, her breath taken from her as she looked at them. Despite them only being men, she had idolised them for all of her life, and now..? She got to see them in the flesh. Rhaenar wanted to reach out, to talk with her father as though he would take her hand, and welcome her with an open heart; but that wasn't possible.
"Rhaegar, stop before you make a spectacle of yourself; Oberyn's here, if you embarrass me, you'll have him to answer to." Her thick accent uttered barely above the wind as her eyes met her husbands, bringing his face to hers as her eyes hardened. Elia knew?
Rhaegar turned, his gaze serious as their eyes met. "I'm not doing anything Elia." She rolled her eyes, turning away. "I love you, I do."
"And our child?" She questioned.
Rhaegar sighed, reaching forward before pushing back a lock of her hair, tucking it tight behind her ear. "Everything I do, I do for this family. I love Rhaenys, and I love you. Nothing will ever change that."
Elia let a smile fill her face, but it didn't contain happiness. "If only I could believe you." She turned from him, gathering her skirt in her hands as she took the stairs up. Rhaenar watched as Rhaegar's shoulders slumped, his hand finding his hair as he tugged it through the strands. He seemed to be aware of his surroundings as he straightened back up, moving to his squires.
Rhae's eyes followed after Elia, tugging Bran as she took the stairs up. "Where are you going?" He asked, confused as he trailed behind her.
"To see something." She muttered, heels clicking on the wood as she got to the top. Rhaenar jumped back. Oberyn stood in front of her, younger than ever as his familiar dark eyes stared back at her. Gone were the crows lines that decorated the edge of his eyes, his hair darker and not peppered by greys. She was surprised, at how youthful he was, how the happiness that clung to the dark hues rather than the simmering rage or tickering thoughts.
Oberyn faced Elia behind her, a fake smile kept on her lips as she reached out to him, settling her hand on his arm as she forced him to stand with them. Their eyes spoke the words they didn't mutter, the shade so similar to one another as hers remained hard but Oberyn's soft. Behind them footsteps interrupted the two Martells, a pale haired woman stepping into the box as she nodded to the pair.
Her eyes were violet, her face almost mousey as she let her pale curls swamp her face, crossing into the box as a small boy followed after her. Viserys and Rhaella; it was strange to look at the small boy that clutched her hand, his eyes fearful of those around them. She had looked into those eyes and only seen lust or anger, it didn't seem to register that once he was a small boy, who had grown around the war.
Another set of steps interrupted the box, this time fear radiating through the air as they held their breath. The Mad King's description could never do justice to just how frail, and insane the man looked; it was like something had crawled from the swamps, but forced to keep their hair and their face somewhat clean, and dressed in fine clothes. He was haggard, his eyes turning much like his little son's. Rhae stepped back as his figure forced itself near her, at the imposing aura it held within the small box. All eyes had darted away, and all tongues kept silent.
Rhaella forced a pleased look upon her face as she took her seat beside the King, both being able to gaze out at the tourney below. "Look, my love; our son." She enthused, her tone soft as her eyes were alight in love as she watched Rhaegar.
He was upon a dark steed, his plume like fire rising from his helmet as the indigo gazed out; he was still searching. Rhaenar watched as Elia's hand tightened on the wood, her small body leaning against it as she breathed deeply. Elia knew something was up, but she couldn't place exactly what it was as her eyes also seemed to scan the crowd. Was she looking for the one who caught Rhaegar's attention? Was she trying to find the love filled eyes that stood out amongst the adoration? Or did she know and pray that Lyanna wouldn't show?
"How long is the Tourney usually?" Rhaenar questioned, her eyes dancing back to Bran who stood beside her.
He shook his head. "It all depends on how many lances they break, if there's only three of them, it shouldn't be long. The last days are usually held for festivities and celebrations." But not this time; not after all the smiles died. Rhaenar waited patiently as the horses were readied, and the riders suited; Ser Arthur Dayne and Rhaegar were up first.
Her teeth buried themselves into her plump lip as she watched her father ride forward, holding this lance at his side as he raced toward Ser Arthur, Arthur doing the same. As the gap grew smaller, the crowd grew silent before the lances were almost in touching distance. Gasps rattled in the air before nothing, no smash as they missed, continuing to ride forward before turning. They readied again.
Rhaenar watched as this time, they collided; Arthur thrown from his horse as the wood splintered around them, falling to the dirt. Her eyes darted to Bran, his focused on the crowd. "What is it?" She asked.
"Lyanna is sitting there." He pointed out, motioning to her mother. She seemed such a far cry from the girl who had been playing with her brothers in the forest as she sat in the softest lavender gown Rhaenar had ever seen, the cotton falling around her like a waterfall as her dark inky hair was tamed with a crown of lavender. She looked beautiful, free as her eyes darted to the tourney, but her face turned towards her brother; a soft smirk upon her lips.
Lyanna knew what she was doing as Rhaegar's head turned, capturing sight of the Northern beauty. Not many noticed the hesitation in the second it took him to walk forward to help his friend up, or the way they were reluctant to peel from Lyanna's figure. Rhaenar's head turned toward Elia, to the clenched jaw she held as she squeezed Oberyn's hand tighter. She was brave, to continue to put on a calm facade as her husband openly appreciated another woman. Rhaenar couldn't have done it, she couldn't have kept cool.
Barristan Selmy was up next, his hair far longer than she had ever seen it as it was tugged back into a bun, spun with strands of straw and white in shade. He wasn't as old, but he wasn't as young as the others as his hand found his horse, patting at his neck. Barristan, however, seemed to only have eyes for someone else.
A young girl sat behind Lyanna as she smoothed out her own deep indigo dress, her hand pushing back a dark lock as violet eyes gazed down at Eddard, a demure smile upon her lips. "Who's that?" Rhae asked, confused at whoever she was.
"Ashara Dayne." Bran explained. "My father had to silence rumours of her being Jon's mother."
Ashara being Jon's mother, she turned to him for more clarification. "Why would they believe Ashara was Jon's mother?"
"It's believed she was who my father wanted to marry, when my mother was still engaged to Brandon." This tourney had messed up the lives of many, Rhae realised as she turned to look back at the young girl, Eddard having blushed bright red just from her gaze alone. "After my father killed her brother, he returned her sword, and she died."
Her brow rose. "Died?"
"Commited suicide." It was tragic, that these people who had been such rocks or just children were forced into these situations. It must have killed Ashara to know the man she fell in love with killed her brother, and out of honour he returned her sword, and married a Tully rather than she. "Are you sure you still want to see this?"
Rhaenar nodded. "I want to see it, Bran. We didn't come here for nothing." And see it, Rhaenar would. Her eyes watched with a burning intensity as the two friends charged at one another, Rhaegar's lance threatening to throw Ser Barristan off, before Ser Barristan's threatened to throw off Rhaegar. They repeated this, over and over before Rhaegar charged his horse, one last time.
It was as though time slowed as the wood connected with the white armour, shattering as Ser Barristan was hauled back, falling to the dirt stunned. The crowd around them roared for the Prince, his hand raising as he rode past them all. "A champion!" A voice shouted all, drawing the attention to him as he raised his hands up; his body dressed in a yellow tunic. Lord Whent. "And our fearsome crown prince, I see!" He cheered.
"It is only fair that our champion names himself a Queen of Love and Beauty." He encouraged, smiling to the others as he waved over a girl. Lifting the crown of winter roses from her hands, Lord Whent rose it for all to see. "Passing from my daughter, my fair maid, I hand it to whoever you choose, Prince Rhaegar." Laying the wreath upon Rhaegar's lance, the Prince nodded to the Lord before straightening his back.
Everyone seemed to know who would be named Queen of Love and Beauty as Elia's back straightened, a smile upon her lips as she grew ready to reach out for it. But all eyes turned to horror as Rhaegar didn't seem to stop at his wife, but rather continued to ride. Every smile that had sat upon the lips of those around them fell, the gazes heavy on Elia's shoulders as she refused to let hers drop. She looked no different, the smile still the same but inside her dark eyes, pain seemed to radiate; Oberyn's turning to fury as his hand clenched around Elia's, the other shaking with a closed fist.
Rhaegar didn't notice, or he didn't seem to care as he came to a stop in front of Lyanna, raising his lance before dropping it into her lap, their eyes meeting. Rhaenar hated the silence, the quiet that echoed around them as she took it, nodding her head with a demure smile. How could Rhaegar do that? How could he embarrass Elia in such a way?
No one clapped or cheered, the tourney at a near deathly quietness. This was their time to go. "I think we've seen enough." She uttered, looking to Bran who was still watching the pair. "It's time to go."
He nodded, before closing his eyes. The scene disappeared around them, fazing to nothing as Rhae closed her eyes, gently feeling the grass beneath her feet as she continued to hold onto Bran's hand. The indigo fluttered open, turning to horror as she looked around her. They weren't anywhere near Winterfell, but rather the middle of the battle as two sides began to run.
Her hand tightened as her eyes widened. Where had they gotten to now?