The Line of the Lost Dragon

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The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by daman42 » Fri Aug 11, 2017 15:07

Rhaegar I

Rhaegar had been sitting at his desk in the Hand’s Tower, he was writing a letter to his brother, the two kept in touch via messenger these days. He was all the way in Slaver’s Bay. His father saw fit to grant him his great Aunt’s titles, salve for the Kingdom of Meereen, the Wise Masters had retaken it upon her death. Though, Rhaegar’s father, Aegon had managed to take hold of the two remaining kingdoms of Slaver’s Bay, though he never paid much attention to them, generally allowing the nobility of that realm to rule over themselves. Judging by what his brother had said in his letters the people of Astapor and Yunkai had received him quite well. Matarys had always had a way with words. Rhaegar let out a yawn, which he accompanied with a stretch. It was getting late. He put his seal on the letter and rose from his seat, moving toward his bed. Though just as he was about to climb in, he heard a barrage of knocks upon his door. “My Prince! My Prince!” It was the voice of the Grand Maester.
“Do come in Grand Maester.” Rhaegar replied, turning to face the door. The maester barged into the room, panting. “It’s your father. You must come with me, you simply must. H-His time has come, my Prince.” Ah. Yes. Rhaegar had been expecting this. His father had been ill for some time now, quite a few months. He’d come to terms with the fact that his father’s death was imminent a few days ago.
“Yes, Grand Maester, lead the way.” Rhaegar said, nodding to the elder. The maester hiked up his robes, jogging down the steps of the Tower of the Hand. Finally they’d arrived at his father’s chambers, which were soon to be his own. The maester looked back, and Rhaegar let out some air, giving him a nod. He very gently opened the door. In it resided his mother, Arya Stark. Aegon offered the maester and his firstborn a weak smile. “My son.” He’d said, rather quietly. He beckoned Rhaegar over, and Rhaegar wasn’t going to refuse. He moved toward his father, feigning a smile.
“My time has come, my son.” Aegon said weakly. “I assumed.” Rhaegar said curtly.
The two just stared at each other for some time, perhaps a minute. “Look after your brother.” His father said. “And Ronnet as well. After the death of his father he became my burden. That boy is like your brother, I would say treat him as such, though I know you already do, my son… And Robb, he is a fine young warrior. Do make sure he finds his way in this world.” Rhaegar mentally winced a bit at him bringing up Robb in front of his mother. His gaze flickered over to her for a moment, she seemed a bit pale. Robb Snow, the son of Lady Sansa Stark, his aunt, and Aegon. Quite the scandal that was. Rhaegar had no ill will toward Robb, for he was his brother, though, bringing the lad up in front of his mother? That was a bit low in his opinion. Though, his father was dying, perhaps he’d just wanted to make sure all of his sons were taken care of. “I shall do as commanded, father. After all, I am your Hand.” Rhaegar’s father smiled weakly again, giving him a nod. “Good.” He simply said. “Leave me now, you shouldn’t have to see it happen. Maester Garrison can deal with me. Tell them to be ready to coronate you.” Rhaegar gave him a nod. His father seemed so ready, it gave him a small chill. “Farewell then, father.” Rhaegar nodded to him. He felt a small tear escape his eye, he hastily wiped it away, and turned to his mother. She’d squeezed him tight, planting a kiss on his forehead. “You as well. Go with our Prince.” Aegon spoke up, directing his words at the Queen. “Yes, my husband.” She said simply. She let go of Rhaegar, planting a final kiss upon his father’s lips. Then Rhaegar and his mother moved to leave the room.
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322 AC

Westeros

The Iron Throne
Image
King Rhaegar I sits the Iron Throne, having ascended it at the age of 18..
He is a handsome young man, who is currently betrothed to Lady Delena Tyrell of the Reach.
He possesses Blackfyre, the ancestral sword of House Targaryen, as well as Dark Sister, which was recovered by his father. He is also a Dragonrider, having tamed his father’s old dragon, Drogon.

Stormlands

Lord Ronnet Connington is the Lord of the Stormlands. He is currently 16.
His seat is Griffin’s Roost.
He is currently married to the King’s sister, Princess Aelora. He is also the Hand of the King of the Iron Throne.
The Baratheons still rule over Shipbreaker Bay and Storm’s End, via Shireen Baratheon’s son, Lord Meryn.

The Reach

The Reach is still held by the Tyrells.
Lord Willas Tyrell is the Lord of the Reach, he is 45 years old.

Dorne

Prince Alester currently serves as Princess of Dorne.
The Martells assisted King Aegon in his claim to the Iron Throne.
Princess Arianne is currently a member of the Silent Sisters, prior to Aegon taking the throne, she was tried and sent to the Sisterhood.

The Westerlands

The Westerlands are ruled by Lord Tyrek of the Westerlands, son of Lord Lancel Lannister.
The Westerlands were granted to Lord Kevan Lannister after a rebellion by Cersei Lannister.

The Riverlands

Lord Harrold Baelish is the current lord of the Riverlands, his seat is Harrenhal.
His sister, Marianne, is Queen of Astapor, via being married to the King’s brother, Matarys.

The Vale

Lord Robert Arryn is the current lord of the Vale.

The North

The North is ruled by Lady Arya Stark.
She is also King Rhaegar’s mother, having married Aegon after the death of Ramsay Bolton. The Lords of the North eventually named her Lady of the North after defeating Roose Bolton.
The Iron Islands

The Iron Islands are Independent.
King Euron Greyjoy currently sits on the Seastone Chair.

Essos

Slaver’s Bay

Mereen

Mereen was retaken by the Wise Masters after Queen Daenerys Stormborn’s demise.

Astapor and Yunkai

Astapor and Yunkai are ruled by the King’s brother, Matarys. Matarys is a Dragon rider, riding the six year old seed of Drogon, Ancalion
Last edited by daman42 on Fri Aug 11, 2017 17:36, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by daman42 » Fri Aug 11, 2017 17:01

Chapter I - Rhaegar, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm

Chapter II - The Golden Rose

Chapter III - The Dragon and the Wolf

Chapter IV - The Half-Dragon of Winterfell

Chapter V Hatchlings
Last edited by daman42 on Sat Sep 02, 2017 19:22, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by daman42 » Fri Aug 11, 2017 18:56

Rhaegar II
Rhaegar’s eyes opened slowly, he slowly blinked a few times, he started to stretch, though he realized Sybelle was next to him. He managed to wiggle his arm free from around her. He rose from the bed, stretching some more. He looked to the balcony, it was still dark. Rhaegar’s bride-to-be was to arrive in King’s Landing in the morning. She was rumored to be the most beautiful girl to have ever lived, and to have possessed a number of virtues. He leaned on the balcony, picturing her in his head. As he thought of his future wife, he heard footsteps. His lover had awoken. “Rhaegar, what’re you doing up?” She said. Sybelle was of House Glover, she was a curvy lass. She had brown hair, the color of milk chocolate and blue eyes, she was pretty but not quite beautiful. She was a few years Rhaegar’s elder. She’d been Rhaegar’s first lay. The two had been lovers for quite some time, since Rhaegar’s thirteenth nameday. After his father retook the throne, she was sent to the capital, as most lordlings or ladylings were. One from most of the greater houses of the realm to assure no further rebellion. Lady- Or Queen Arya had taken a liking to Sybelle, taking her into her service.
“Simply getting some air.” He said. He glanced back at her. She’d wrapped her arms around him now. The two looked out at the stars, and at the Great Sept of Baelor in silence for some time. Rhaegar enjoyed overlooking the city, especially when it was quiet like this. It was beautiful to him, peaceful even. Though the peace was broken when Sybelle spoke up. “Marry me.” He glanced down at her. “You know that isn’t an option, my love.” He turned to face her now, holding her. “You’re the king, you can do as you like, Rhaegar. Please, marry me.” Rhaegar could marry her if he wanted to. Though, it wouldn’t be proper, but maybe... It wouldn’t. “I have to marry her. It would be an insult to the Tyrells were I to break the betrothal… I-I just I can’t… You know I love you, my Winter Rose.” He smiled a half smile. Sybelle looked down in sadness. Rhaegar thought he even saw a tear rolling down her cheek. She held him tight.
“Promise me you won’t love her Rhaegar… Promise me…” She said quietly.
“I promise, my love, I promise.” He said, taking her hand. She used her other hand to wipe away the tears and looked up to him. He kissed her hand, and then her lips. “Let’s go back to bed, mhm?” He said, moving toward the bed, not bothering to wait for a response.

Rhaegar sat the Iron Throne, the court had been gathered, for the soon-to-be queen was to arrive in the capital. Smaller matters were attended to first, pleads from lords and the like. Some irrelevant lord whom Ronnet had just dealt with had been walking away when he heard trumpets. They signified the arrival of his bride to be. His eyes widened a bit as he heard the noise. Whispers were all that could be heard in the sea of courtiers as the trumpets sounded. Lord Willas Tyrell, Warden of the South and Master of Laws of the Iron Throne entered the throne room. That was when he saw her, Lady Delena Tyrell. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Petite, lithe, her face took his breath away. Lord Tyrell kneeled before him. “Your Grace.” He said, his head down. “Rise, Lord Tyrell.” Rhaegar replied.
“Before your father passed, he betrothed you to my daughter, Lady Delena, of House Tyrell. She is a woman now, thus, I do believe it is high time this betrothal ends, and a wedding is held.”
“I agree Lord Tyrell. I hereby proclaim that the wedding shall be held in a fortnight, preparations must be made.” Rhaegar rose from his throne. The court bowed their heads as their king rose. “I shall retire to my chambers now.” Rhaegar moved to leave the throne room, his Kingsguard following suit.

It had been a fortnight. The wedding was winding down and the hour had been getting late. Rhaegar and his bride had barely spoke. He’d noted that she was a shy girl, whenever he looked at her she’d blush and smile. Rhaegar spent most of the night drinking with Ronnet and Sers William Umber and Patrek Mallister. They were a merry bunch to say the least. “Pst, y’grace.” Will said, a grin upon his face. Rhaegar placed his goblet down, a stupid grin upon his face. “Mhm, Will?”
“It’s time for the bedding, heh heh.” After Will’s words the other two grinned. “As your Hand, as well as your closest friend and advisor, I second that notion, Your Grace.” Ronnet chuckled some.
“I think you should bed her.” Patrek chimed in. Rhaegar’s gaze panned about the smirking trio, he shrugged. “Come on the night is still young.” Rhaegar glanced to the side, noting Sybelle alongside his mother. He winced. “Come on then, Your Grace, you must bed her. You need an heir.” Ronnet said. “Aye!” the other two said almost in unison. He looked to Delena whom was across the courtyard, her beauty couldn’t be matched, especially in her wedding dress. Rhaegar was convinced the girl would be the most beautiful to ever exist. That helped sway his decision. “Make the proclamation…” He murmured to Ronnet. Ronnet grinned, standing up. “Esteemed guests! Attention!” He waited until the party was quiet, which didn’t take long. “It is time for the bedding” They all looked to Rhaegar, he simply offered a nod. He rose from his seat, moving toward Delena. He smiled at her, and she blushed and smiled back. He locked arms with her. The Kingsguard formed around them. They all moved toward the Red Keep.

Rhaegar entered his chambers with the girl, he was a few years her elder. “I don’t believe we had a chance to chat much at the ceremony, My Lady.” She blushed yet again. Her voice was quiet, “I don’t believe so either, Your Grace.” There was a moment of awkward silence, though Rhaegar cleared the air.
“I do apologize for the smell, I shouldn’t have drank as much… It wasn’t proper.” He said. She simply smiled at him and said, “You may do as you please, my husband, you are the King, after all.” He nodded a few times, letting out an awkward laugh. The two stared at eachother for a few moments, then Rhaegar went to kiss her...
In the morn, Rhaegar woke up next to his Queen. It had been a night to remember.
Last edited by daman42 on Fri Sep 01, 2017 15:20, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by JDSweet » Tue Aug 15, 2017 22:00

Good chapters but.... NO BROWN HAIRED HEIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by daman42 » Wed Aug 16, 2017 03:10

JDSweet wrote:Good chapters but.... NO BROWN HAIRED HEIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Not for long ;)

Speaking of, new chapter coming soon. It's taking me awhile to write so my aplogjes.
daman42
 
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by JDSweet » Wed Aug 16, 2017 05:11

daman42 wrote:
JDSweet wrote:Good chapters but.... NO BROWN HAIRED HEIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Not for long ;)

Speaking of, new chapter coming soon. It's taking me awhile to write so my aplogjes.


Its fine I'm patient-ish. I must ask though, why no wincest? You have dragons so it's not like anybody's gonna tell you no, and the abomination of incest modifier makes it easier to hatch dragons/tame dragons.
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by daman42 » Wed Aug 16, 2017 13:16

JDSweet wrote:
daman42 wrote:
JDSweet wrote:Good chapters but.... NO BROWN HAIRED HEIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Not for long ;)

Speaking of, new chapter coming soon. It's taking me awhile to write so my aplogjes.


Its fine I'm patient-ish. I must ask though, why no wincest? You have dragons so it's not like anybody's gonna tell you no, and the abomination of incest modifier makes it easier to hatch dragons/tame dragons.


Well (on the topic of Aegon x Dany) at first it was so I didn't have to deal with ruling over Dany's lands and in the holes that she'd have her own line of Targs for me to marry my heirs to, as well as RP purposes because Aegon would've had support from some Northern lords who were still loyal to the Starks or whatever. Rhaegar was mostly for a good ole non-aggression pact, as Mace wasn't too happy when Rhaegae took the throne. Willas liked Aegon more though but I didn't really feel like breaking the betrothal. I do plan on trying to keep things pure for the most part, via Matarys' line if there's no one in mine.

Sidenote, next chapter is going up today.
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by daman42 » Wed Aug 30, 2017 11:13

Rhaegar III

Rhaegar sat beside his wife, holding her. She was in tears. She’d buried her head in Rhaegar’s chest. “She was meant to be our Princess…” His wife weeped. “I know.” Rhaegar said squeezing her a bit. Maester Garrison returned into the room. “Your Grace.” He said. He spoke with a softness in his voice. “What shall we do with her?” Rhaegar cleared his throat. “Take her to the crypts.” Garrison bowed his head and left the room. She was to be named Haera. Rhaegar promised himself he would visit Haera. He’d make sure he did. “We’ll never have to go through this again, my love.” He assured his wife. He hoped it was true.
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Rhaegar entered the room, the members of his small council all rose, they bowed their heads and said almost in unison, “Your grace.” Rhaegar nodded to them, seating himself at the head of the table. Varys and Ronnet sat closest to him, as they always did. Ronnet moved in to whisper to Rhaegar “How’s Saenrys?” He said. “Garrison says she’s just fine. Delena’s happier than ever, she has her eyes.” Rhaegar smiled at the thought of his daughter. She was their Princess, the gods hadn’t been as cruel as they were with Haera. There was no complications with Saenrys’ birth, and Garrison said she was one of the healthiest newborns he’d ever seen. “Shall we begin?” Rhaegar’s gaze panned about the councilmembers. “Yes, your grace, my little birds in the east have brought news of your brother.” Rhaegar looked to his Master of Whispers, perking a brow. “They say he has retaken Meereen from the Wise Masters.”
“Ah, very good then, yes?” Rhaegar said, nodding to Varys. Varys did not return the favor, instead his face looked a bit grave. “I should mention that he has also reimplemented slavery, thus the name Slaver’s Bay has meaning once more, Your Grace.” Rhaegar winced a bit at this. “Ah… I see. We shall revisit the matter at a later date. Matters of the East are not a direct concern as of right now.” Grey Worm, the Master-at-Arms and Commander of the Gold Cloaks looked at Rhaegar with icy eyes, though Rhaegar brushed it off. “Your Grace.” Maester Garrison spoke up. “I have received a letter from your uncle, the Lord Commander.”
“Ah, another King-Beyond-the-Wall?” The Maester shook his head. “A more… Delicate matter, your Grace.” Rhaegar perked a brow at this. “Speak.” He said.
“Your Uncle… He’s sent a letter to the lords of the realm, he claims he is the trueborn son of your grandfather, Prince Rhaegar, and Lyanna Stark. He believes he has a claim to your throne.” Rhaegar blinked. He felt himself turn a bit pale. “Your mother has sent men up to the Wall to take care of the matter.” Rhaegar tapped his fingers against the table. “Make any preparations necessary, I shall go North.” Ronnet’s eyes widened a bit. “Your Grace, I suggest you send someone else.” His councilmen nodded. “Allow me to go in your stead.” Ronnet said. Though, Rhaegar shook his head. “I shall take a ship to Eastwatch as soon as possible. Make the preparations” He said sharply. Ronnet sighed, “As you wish, Your Grace, though I ask that I be permitted to join you in the North.” Rhaegar shook his head. “I need you here to rule in my absence.” Ronnet grasped the arm of his chair tightly. “Allow Lord Willas to rule in your stead. He is a competent man, good with words, and has experience.” Rhaegar was silent a moment, he looked to Willas, and then to Ronnet. “Very well then, if Lord Willas is willing that is.” The Tyrell nodded. “I am honored, Your Grace, do be prepared to be impressed upon your return.” The man could be trusted, couldn’t he? Rhaegar thought to himself. He was his father-in-law after all. “Very well then. You are all dismissed.” Rhaegar rose from his seat, going to return to his chambers. He needed to rest. He had a long journey ahead of him.

“Your Grace! Land!” A sailor called out. Rhaegar had been standing on the deck of the ship. He was wrapped in black furs, on his cape was the red dragon of his house. He wore Darksister, sheathed at his side, though Rhaegar assumed it wouldn’t stay that way for long. “Men! Ready your arms!” He yelled. Some of his men repeated his orders, bellowing them to their comrades. Rhaegar rested his hand on the hilt of Darksister. Alongside him stood his squire, Arthor Reed. Arthor had been Rhaegar’s squire since he’d been granted knighthood. He was a short lad, though what he lacked in stature he made up for in skill, for the lad was turning out to be quite the swordsman. Rhaegar genuinely enjoyed the company of Arthor, and considered him a true friend, though he came second to Ronnet; whom found his way over to him, the two men nodded to each other. “I hope you’ve improved since we were lads Rhaegar, otherwise I’ll have to save your arse.” Ronnet wore furs as well, though he wore a different sword at his side, Oathkeeper. Brienne of Tarth granted it to him on her deathbed. Ronnet was an amazing swordsman, Rhaegar had bested him only once in sparring, and that was Ronnet’s first spar, though the two mutually agreed it was due to the slight age difference. William Umber had joined them as well. He stood tall like his father, Greatjon. “You lads ready?” The Umber said, a grin upon his face. “I do believe we are, Will. I care about you all dearly, do try not to get yourselves killed, in fact, that’s an order from your king.” Rhaegar grinned. The lot had a chuckle. Rhaegar finally saw the docks of Eastwatch, though instead of being greeted by arrows, they were greeted by a single black brother. “Men, stay on your guard!” Ronnet yelled. The black brother waved to them, he yelled back. “That won’t be necessary, friends!” Rhaegar looked to his companions, he’d need to speak to this fellow. They were permitted to dock their ship. Rhaegar’s three Kingsguard were the first to touch the dock. Robert Strong stood in the middle, massive as he was. Walys Farrow and Elmar Frey stood next to the giant of a man. Rhaegar stood behind them Ronnet stood to his left, and William stood to his right. “Ser Robert, allow him past you.” Robert sidestepped, the old fellow passed by him, and Robert planted himself back in his previous spot. His Kingsguard spun on their heels, now the old Black Brother was surrounded. “I can assure you all I’m no threat. My name is Petyr Baelish, Your Grace, I intend on assisting you in ousting the most dishonorable Lord Commander Snow.” Baelish, Petyr Baelish. He was the father of the Lord of the Trident. “Ah, yes, Ser Baelish, the crown thanks you for your contribution in this endeavour.” Littlefinger nodded. “I am honored. Shall I get you up to speed, Your Grace?” Rhaegar nodded in response.
“The majority of the men of the Night’s Watch refused to follow Jon Snow in his dishonorable pursuit. He does still have a few who support him. Though, his army mostly consists of wildlings, the majority of which are at Castle Black. My sp- scouts report that he’s sending a force here to lay siege to us. I do believe your men combined with those sent by your mother have the potential to turn the tide of the siege, or battle depending on what you fancy, if either of said scenarios were to come to fruition.”
Rhaegar nodded, “Well, I do hope we can do so. Presumably you have proper accommodations for myself and my men?”
“Indeed, Your Grace, though they may be tight accommodations.”
“Hrmph, well let us hope they are sufficient nonetheless.” Rhaegar then turned to Ronnet. “Make sure everyone settles in, inform them to expect to be called to battle at anytime.” Ronnet bowed his head and turned to get on the ship, Rhaegar could hear him shouting orders at the men.
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Rhaegar had been sleeping when Baelish entered the room, Arthor came jogging in after him. Though, as soon as the would-be Lord Commander woke him up with his squire, Rhaegar knew what was going on. “Your Grace, they’ve arrived.” Baelish said grimly.
“Has everyone else been informed?” Rhaegar said as he rose from the bed.
“Yes. Shouldn’t be long before the battle begins.” Rhaegar stretched some he waved Littlefinger off. “I’ll be out in a moment.” Littlefinger bowed and left without another word. “Shall I fetch your armor, Your Grace?” Arthor said. “Mhm.” Rhaegar rubbed his eyes. The lad nodded and moved to grab Rhaegar’s armor. The armor was similar to that of the Starks, though, the leather was black. He wore black furs, with a black cape, it bore the three-headed dragon of his house. He accompanied the suit with black leather gloves, and black leather boots. He then fastened a sheathed Darksister to his belt, and left his quarters, Arthor following closely behind him. Rhaegar made his way up to the battlements, “Fuck.” was all he had to say. They were outnumbered, two-to-one at least, though Rhaegar assumed they had better weapons and armor than them. He wished he’d brought Drogon now, though, he didn’t want his dragon burning down the few castles the Night’s Watch still maintained. Littlefinger, Will, and Ronnet had been waiting for Rhaegar, whom was accompanied by his three Kingsguardsmen and squire. Another older fellow had been standing next to Petyr, he was old, but not as old as Baelish. “This is Ser Gared Tuttle, he was previously First-Ranger under Jon Snow, I intend on reasserting him into that position after Jon is ousted.”
“Aye.” Gared put simply, he had a bow in hand and a sword at his side.
“A pleasure, Ser Gared, take control of the archers.” He gave him a curt nod.
“Are you ready?” Rhaegar said, turning to Will, Ronnet, and Arthor.
“I’ve been itching for a battle.” Will chimed.
“Mhm, as have I.” Ronnet said. Will turned to Arthor, going to tousle the lad’s hair. “And you, try not to die.” Arty nodded in return. “Well let’s get this over with.” The Wildlings had been closing in the on the castle, Gared gave orders to the archers, and a sea of arrows flew at the heathens. “They’ve brea-!” the man whom had been yelling was cut off, presumably by one of the barbarians’ blades. Rhaegar moved toward the courtyard, his entourage following suit. “Fire and Blood!” he yelled. Ser Robert emitted what could only be described as a roar, the rest yelled with Rhaegar. Around him men fought fiercely, Ser Robert cut down the wildlings like they were butter, his greatsword looking weightless in the hand’s of the massive man. Ser Walys and Ser Elmar seemed deadly as well, though not as deadly as Ser Robert, or Ronnet, who’d been slashing and stabbing away at the heathens. Will shouted and yelled as he used his strength to cut through the wildlings. Rhaegar fought valiantly, he’d cut down at least ten wildlings by now, none had matched his prowess. As Rhaegar dueled with one of the wildlings, he heard his squire, “Your Grace!” he’d just driven Darksister into his current challenger; he turned to find a large wildling lifting a war hammer into the air. He rolled to the side, letting go of his blade, his back was now to the ground. Fuck. Fuck. Rhaegar attempted to scoot backward a bit, though his back was now against a wall. “Dead man!” the large wildling yelled. He began to raise his warhammer again, and Rhaegar put his arm up to shield himself, though rather than hearing the sound of a hammer hitting his skull, he heard a thump. When Rhaegar looked up, Arthor was looking around, Darksister in both hands. “Your Grace! The battle is not won yet!” He drove the sword into the ground, going to help up Rhaegar. “I owe you my life, Arthor.” Rhaegar nodded to the lad, going to retrieve his blade. He was back in the fray…
“Fall back!” He heard a rough Northern voice say. More and more shouted the order. “They’re retreating!” Ronnet said, whom was back to back with Rhaegar. Rhaegar saw a few of the Night’s Watchmen cutting down wildlings who flocked toward the gates, but he knew he was safe. He was done fighting. He sheathed Darksister, moving to fall onto his back. He was tired, hungry, and wanted a woman to warm his bed. Ronnet kneeled down, grinning, “I didn’t have to save your arse, maybe I underestimated you earlier.” Rhaegar sat up a bit now, his cheeks going a bit red, “Arty had that honor, don’t you worry.” The two comrades laughed.
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“We shall storm the gates at nightfall then, it’s settled.” Rhaegar said with a nod. He moved to depart from the tent and find his own. They’d arrived at Castle Black, here was where the final battle would take place. Rhaegar knew his uncle was inside, probably thinking the same thing as him. One of us is going to have to die. Rhaegar would not retreat, no matter the circumstances, he knew his uncle wouldn’t either. They would die with their men, a glorious battle, one for the poets. The poem would be about a wolf and a dragon, or were his uncle to be victorious, two dragons. The remainder of the day dragged on slowly. Finally nightfall came, and Rhaegar’s men were ready. He sent the archers out first, they could perhaps pick off some infantrymen or enemy archers prior to his assault. They did what they could. Then Rhaegar sent men to break down the gates. “Fire and Blood!” Rhaegar yelled, charging at the now broken gates with his companions and some men behind him. He charged forward.
Across the courtyard there he was, the Lord Commander, his uncle, the false dragon. He saw Rhaegar, he took a few of his men and retreated into the great hall. Rhaegar knew what he was doing. Rhaegar grabbed Ronnet, Will, Walys, and Elmar. He would not take Ser Robert, who was cutting down wildlings and false Night’s Watchmen, for that wouldn’t be fair play in Rhaegar’s opinion. They made their way to the great hall, Jon’s men stood around him, as did Rhaegar’s. “As a boy I heard tales of you, your honorableness, how you prevented the second Long Night, how you and my father fought alongside one another to save us from winter. Now look at you. Where is your honor, Snow?” Rhaegar looked at him with icy eyes, his grip tightening around Darksister. “I’m sorry, Rhaegar.” That was all Jon said, he readied Longclaw. Rhaegar’s men readied their weapons and the clash began. Jon’s men were cut down around him, Rhaegar and Jon dueled fiercely, though when all of Jon’s men hit the floor, they stopped momentarily. Jon was still on guard, his gaze panning around the five men. Rhaegar lowered his weapon, and signaled for his men to as well, once he did so his uncle did as well. “This is the end, isn’t it?” Jon said. Rhaegar shook his head. “Perhaps not uncle.” He turned to his men, Will had been looking down at a gash on his shoulder, his brown garbs turned a bit darker due to the blood, though aside from him, his men were unscathed. “Allow him safe passage out of this room if I’m to fall. All of you back.” His comrades understood, they all did as they were told, the Kingsguard were the first ones to move. Big William Umber came over and hugged Rhaegar, “You silver haired shit, if you die I’ll piss on your corpse.” He laughed hardily. “I’d prefer you didn’t, but noted.” He chuckled as well. Will moved back as well. Then there was Ronnet, he smiled a sad smile, as did Rhaegar. “Best of luck, brother.” He said. “Thank you, brother.” Rhaegar said in return. They nodded to each other and Ronnet stepped back. Walys and Elmar guarded the door. “Now it ends, uncle.” Rhaegar readied Darksister. “Now it ends.” Jon agreed. They began their duel. The dragon and the wolf danced, both men fighting to the best of their ability. Rhaegar and Jon were in a clash, they’d been dueling for a minute or two now. Both men were tired. They panted, circling one another. Jon mustered all that he had left, he charged at Rhaegar. The sheer force of his uncle knocked him into a table, and Darksister went skidding across the hall. Jon closed in on Rhaegar, he looked over to his comrades. William put his hand on the hilt of his blade but Rhaegar shook his head quickly. He was exhausted, perhaps death would be less tiring. Rhaegar would find out soon enough if he didn’t act. Jon swung Longclaw, but Rhaegar managed to roll to the side, he then jumped at his legs, managing to take the false dragon down. The two men grappled with one another, fists were flying. Rhaegar was his square in the jaw, though he retaliated with punches of his own. After a bit more maneuvering Rhaegar managed to get on top of him, he sent fists raining down upon his uncle’s head. Jon’s face was covered in blood, which presumably was a mix of his own and Rhaegar’s. Once he saw his uncle put up no struggle, he ceased the punching, removing his dagger from his belt. “Fire and Blood.” He said, panting in between the words. Rhaegar then drove his dagger into the man’s neck and rolled over, he heard the faint cheers of his companions. Though, they were muffled, and soon enough, everything went black.
Last edited by daman42 on Fri Sep 01, 2017 15:19, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by JDSweet » Wed Aug 30, 2017 15:14

Good chapter. Just trying to help, but for the record Targaryens burn their dead.
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by daman42 » Fri Sep 01, 2017 15:19

Rhaegar IV

Rhaegar awoke in a bed half naked. He breathed heavily. Next to him was Ronnet and Arty, both had been sitting on wooden chairs quietly chatting. Their eyes lit up upon Rhaegar’s awakening. “Water,” he mouthed. Arty ran off to go fetch it. A minute or so later he returned. He poured water from a pitcher into a silver goblet. Rhaegar downed it almost immediately after his lips touched it, Arty continued to pour, Rhaegar continued to chug.
“Maester says it had something to do with exhaustion,” Ronnet chimed, “We proclaimed Jon dead and most of the false Black Brothers dropped their weapons. A few barbarians continued, some surrendered. Some went back beyond The Wall. Some have even pledged fealty to The Watch, I found it rather ironic, and even some pledged fealty to you. You established yourself the greater warrior, worthy of their affection I suppose.” Rhaegar cleared his throat.
“How long have I been like this?”
“About a day,” Ronnet replied.
“We shall ride for Winterfell when I’m able,” Rhaegar proclaimed.
“Aye, rest up,” Ronnet rose from his seat and bowed, he moved to leave the room.
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His mother’s corpse was pale, the maester told him her illness had taken her some time ago, a letter had been sent to Eastwatch proclaiming him the new Lord of Winterfell and the North, though he’d never been able to see it. “Send a letter to my half brother, Robb, tell him I summon him to Winterfell.”
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Rhaegar sat with Robb in the Godswood. He looked the heart tree over, whenever he traveled up North he was fascinated at the sight of them, their coloring, the leaves, but mostly the face which it bore. Perhaps this fascination was due to the Northern blood in his veins. Robb Snow, Rhaegar’s half-brother, was quite the scandal back in the day. He was the son of Rhaegar’s father and Lady Sansa Stark, the queen’s own sister. Rumor has it that Sansa took solace in the arms of Aegon after her previous husband, Lord Petyr Baelish was banished to the Wall. Robb was one of the finest warriors Rhaegar had ever seen, were he not married Rhaegar would’ve thought to put him into the Kingsguard. Some called him the Wolfknight, others the Dragonknight, a few ever called him the Troutknight, though this was mostly a jest at his hair, as he bore the Tully-like hair of his mother and his grandmother before her. Rhaegar needed a good commander, one other than Ronnet. With Robb’s marriage to Sybelle’s sister, Shyra, he already had ties to one of the greater Northern houses, Rhaegar saw him fit for the part of Lord of the North.
“I do suppose you know what I’m about to ask of you, brother,” Rhaegar said, running his hand across the bark of the heart tree.
“I’ve a few ideas in mind,” Robb said.
“I want you to rule, brother. I would grant you the North, and Winterfell, if you’d give me your consent that is. I’ve had the papers for your legitimization written up by th- your Maester. You’d be a Targaryen, though you look more like the seed of the Wolf, which is why I believe the Lords of the North would accept you, that and your prowess in battle,” Rhaegar spoke the words as he continued to touch the weirwood, though once he’d finished he turned to Robb, “What do you think?”
Robb ran his fingers through his auburn beard, “How could I refuse an offer like that, eh? I’ll do it. I’ll rule the North for you. You’d better help me gather my bearings n’ such though.” Rhaegar smirked at this. “I will dear brother, don’t you worry. I nearly forgot," Rhaegar reached down next to him, he plopped a blade onto it. The wolf pommel signified what it was, "It was our Uncle's. Though, I see it a fitting blade for the Lord of the North." Robb looked it over, he nodded a few times. "Thank you, brother." Rhaegar nodded in return.
"I shall have preparations made for the announcement."
Last edited by daman42 on Sun Sep 03, 2017 14:07, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: The Line of the Lost Dragon

PostPosted by JDSweet » Fri Sep 01, 2017 17:09

TREASON! Dragons sit on the Iron Throne, NOWHERE ELSE!

But, for real, the realm will burn for this. At least five generations of Fire, Blood, and Trout Eyes.
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