His punishment was finally over. He had transcribed the last of the scrolls that very evening, the scratching of the quill a dull, grating memory that still echoed in his mind. Now, back in the quiet of his own chambers, it was late, and the scent of ink still clung faintly to his fingers. He was looking forward to some relaxation.
He had already requested a small tray from the kitchens—lemon cakes, his one true weakness, and a cup of cooled milk. The thought of it was a small, bright spot after the drudgery of the past weeks. A moment of simple pleasure, and then the blissful oblivion of a long, rejuvenating sleep. He had earned it.
That, of course, was when the guard appeared at his door.
"Prince Rhaegar," the man said, his voice respectfully flat. "His Grace summons you to his solar."
Rhaegar stared at him. He was puzzled and, more than that, deeply annoyed. The timing was absurd. He was exhausted, his mind frayed from endless lines of text. But one did not refuse a summons from Jaehaerys Targaryen.
With a weary sigh, he rose. "Lead the way."
He followed the guard through the quiet, torchlit corridors of the Red Keep, his mind a blank slate of fatigue. When they arrived, the guard opened the heavy wooden door without a word and gestured for him to enter. Rhaegar stepped inside.
The chamber was illuminated by the warm, flickering glow of a dozen candles. His grandfather sat at a large table near the hearth, a half-empty goblet of wine cradled in one hand. But it was not the king who held Rhaegar's attention. It was the table.
Upon its polished surface sat a game board, intricately carved and set with pieces he did not immediately recognize. It was a strange, beautiful thing, a battlefield in miniature. A chair, clearly meant for him, sat on the opposite side, facing the king.
He approached slowly, his annoyance giving way to growing curiosity. "You called for me, Grandfather?"
Jaehaerys nodded, his violet eyes sharp even in the dim light. "Sit."
Rhaegar sat opposite the king, his gaze falling to the board. The square patterns etched on the board resembled a game he knew well from another life, but the pieces were alien to him.
There was a king, yes, but beside it stood figures carved in the shape of dragons, elephants, trebuchets, and crossbowmen. His mind worked overtime, racking his brain until, in a dusty corner of his memory, he recalled reading of a complex Volantene game that resembled chess.
"Do you know what this is?" Jaehaerys asked, his voice low.
Rhaegar kept his expression neutral. "I do not, Grandfather."
"It is called cyvasse," Jaehaerys explained, gesturing to the board. "A gift from Volantis, brought back on one of the first voyages of the Consortium." He pushed a small, rolled parchment across the table. "Are you interested in a game?"
"While I am interested," Rhaegar replied, "I am not familiar with how it is played."
Jaehaerys gestured to the scroll. "The rules. Whoever sent this was thorough."
Rhaegar unrolled the parchment. On it, written in a neat, precise hand of High Valyrian, were the roles of the pieces, their movements, and the objective of the game.
The board was similar to a chessboard, but the rules were far more complicated. There were screens to hide one's setup, different types of terrain tiles, and a hierarchy of pieces that made the strategies a bit more complex. It seemed it was not a game of simple capture, but of conquest, with the primary objective being to kill the King of your opponent.
He read through it quickly, his mind absorbing the information with relative ease. With a few clarifying details from his grandfather, he felt he had a general grasp of it, and they began to play.
As expected, Jaehaerys dominated the initial games. The Old King played with a patient, deliberate style, his moves economical and deadly. But Rhaegar was a quick learner. He learned from his mistakes, adapted his strategy, and soon, the games became longer, the silence between moves heavier.
They played for what felt like an hour, the only sounds being the soft click of wooden pieces on the board and the crackle of the fire. Rhaegar moved one of his catapults to counter Jaehaerys's dragon, which had crept too close to his elephant. As he placed the piece, his grandfather finally broke the silence.
"Was it your plan?"
The question was so abrupt it almost startled him. Rhaegar schooled his features into a mask of confusion. "Pardon?"
Jaehaerys's gaze did not leave the board. "The dragons. Your cousin and your brother. Was it your deliberate doing?"
Rhaegar was even more confused now, but he answered anyway.
"What possible reason could I have to deliberately orchestrate such a chaotic event?" He asked, his tone one of pure innocence.
"I am unsure," Jaehaerys admitted, moving a piece of his own. "And that is why I am asking. I am a bit lost as to why young Viserys was involved, but Rhaenys… her claiming Meleys now was too convenient a timing."
Rhaegar's mind went blank with genuine puzzlement. 'Convenient?'
Jaehaerys let out a low chuckle, finally looking up from the board. His eyes held a knowing glint. "Playing the fool now, are we?"
Rhaegar remained silent, his confusion mounting.
"Her claiming Meleys now has disrupted the matter of her betrothal," Jaehaerys explained, his voice laced with something that sounded almost like approval. "The talks were imminent. About to begin, in fact."
Rhaegar paused, a game piece held tight in his hand. For a split second, his composure cracked. 'Betrothal?'
He had heard nothing of this. Not a whisper. He recovered instantly, his face smoothing back into a neutral mask, but the internal shock remained. He needed a way to know these things. He needed eyes and ears everywhere, or he would always be one step behind.
He placed the piece on the board, a defensive move, but offered no reply.
Jaehaerys studied his grandson's silence, then moved a piece of his own. "If it was your intention to complicate or thwart the betrothal talks for your cousin, then it was a praiseworthy manoeuvre. Taking Viserys with you to claim a dragon of his own, to divert attention from being solely on Rhaenys… it was dangerous, yes, but effective. It did what it needed to do."
By now, Rhaegar was starting to find the entire situation comical. His grandfather, one of the wisest men in the Seven Kingdoms, had constructed an elaborate, brilliant conspiracy and placed him at its center. He was giving him credit for a plan that had never existed, for a level of foresight that he did not possess in this instance. The Dragonpit incident had been pure, unadulterated chaos, born out of his cousins' recklessness, his brother's appetite, and his own poor oversight.
But he did not correct him. Looking at the Old King's face, he suspected Jaehaerys was too sure of his false conclusion to believe the truth.
Instead, he played the humble card. "Grandfather, I am only a child of ten name-days. You have it wrong. Could any boy my age truly plan something so… elaborate?"
Jaehaerys was silent for a moment. He picked up one of his crossbowmen and moved it toward one of Rhaegar's trebuchets. He placed it down with a soft click.
"It would be impossible for any other child," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "But for one who can plan to discreetly buy up nearly half the shady businesses in the capital by proxies, without most people hearing even a whisper… using the small fortune he received from the trade company he also planned and spearheaded… I suppose that ten-name-day-old child is more than capable of such a thing."
Rhaegar froze. This time, he could not hide the flicker of shock on his face. It had not been four days since Ryon had confirmed the completion of his acquisitions. Four days. And his grandfather had already sniffed it out. He had underestimated him. A mistake he realized he was making far too often. A reign of nearly five decades was not to be taken lightly.
Jaehaerys was wrong about the Dragonpit, but he was devastatingly right about everything else. Rhaegar looked at the stoic face of his grandfather and saw very few paths forward. But he also saw that the king was not furious. He was… intrigued.
This could be an opportunity.
Calmly, Rhaegar picked up his dragon piece. He moved it forward, placing it in a position that directly threatened Jaehaerys's king. A faint, wry smile touched his lips.
"You are a hard man to deceive, Grandfather."
Jaehaerys moved a catapult to defend his king. His gaze was intense, and his question was different. "When you requested Baelon to send your knight to your uncle's side, did you know he was going to be injured?"
Now Rhaegar saw the game the Old King was trying to play.
He met his grandfather's eyes, his own gaze unwavering. "No," he said calmly. "I knew he was going to die."
The Old King did not react sharply, but his posture straightened almost imperceptibly. He picked up his goblet, took a slow sip of wine, and swirled the dark liquid. "So," he said, his voice low. "You did manage to successfully decipher that dream of yours."
"I did," Rhaegar confirmed.
Jaehaerys looked back at him. "That does not happen often. Most stories I have heard are of men and women going mad before they could make a sliver of sense of what they dreamt."
He placed the goblet beside him. "It is fortuitous that you are not one of them. Your grandmother could not have handled another child in this family succumbing to the complications of our blood."
Rhaegar did not respond. Jaehaerys changed the topic again, moving a piece on the board.
"So I suppose then, even Dragon Tide is something you deliberately planned. The device, the compass, only came as a requirement for it later. Did it not?"
Rhaegar moved his elephant. "The compass and the company go hand in hand. But to answer your query, yes. I had the consortium in mind before I set out to create the device."
"What was the motivation for it?" Jaehaerys asked, his eyes fixed on the board.
Rhaegar smiled. "Come, Grandfather. For all the obvious reasons, of course. Gold. Trade. Influence."
Jaehaerys captured one of Rhaegar's spearmen. "Yes. But I am intrigued by the reasons that are not so obvious."
Rhaegar looked at his grandfather for a long moment. He moved a piece of his own. "Velaryons," he answered with that single word.
Jaehaerys moved again. "You wanted to tie them to us."
Rhaegar nodded.
"Why?" Jaehaerys pressed. "If you wanted to bind them closer, a marriage would suffice. Why go through such an elaborate plot?"
Rhaegar smiled, a cold, knowing smile that did not belong on the face of a boy. He moved another piece. "Power, Grandfather. What else? Lord Corlys is already a very influential and wealthy man. A marriage to us now would give them too much power. Too much influence at court, too much prestige."
He leaned back slightly and continued. "And with enough of our blood in their line, they could eventually have dragons of their own. So, unless we wish to recreate the Azure Forty, I believe it is best we keep such marriages to a minimum."
Jaehaerys did not reply immediately. He did not move a piece. He simply stared at his grandson, who seemed to grow more enigmatic by the minute. Finally, he asked the question that had been lingering in the air since Rhaegar had first walked into the chamber.
"Why?"
Rhaegar looked at him, a flicker of puzzlement on his face.
Jaehaerys expanded. "You are a dreamer, I know that now. But what exactly are you trying to accomplish with all of this? What is it that you see, that you believe all of this is necessary?"
Rhaegar did not answer immediately. He took his time. This was the moment. The sinker. He looked at his grandfather, his young face suddenly grave, his violet eyes glinting in the candlelight.
"I see what Aegon saw when he was compelled to conquer the Seven Kingdoms," he said, his voice low and steady. "I see the song that has been etched into the blade that is in your possession."
He leaned forward, his gaze locking with the king's.
"The Song of Ice and Fire."