A/N: Weekly updates, this week, though, I'll update once again, because it's the first week :) R&R makes me happy :)

Rhaegar I

When Rhaegar Targaryen's first child was born a princess the whispers started. They died out soon enough with the birth of the young prince and soon after both of Rhaegar's children died, too.

After loosing both children, his wife, his beloved and – gods forgive him- his mad father, the king, Rhaegar would've welcomed his own death. But the gods were cruel. They would have him pay for his sins.

Looking around the hall, Rhaegar wondered why they had been so cruel. His younger brother Viserys had always been an eager child. Now, a wedded man, he resided in Dragonstone with his Lady wife and their children, two boys. To Viserys it "had been obvious" to name his first child after their late father nevermind all the gossiping it started.

"The people may talk", Viserys used to say, "Talk does not hurt the Dragon."

Frankly, Viserys never got the chance to know bad tongues, hurting tongues like Rhaegar had. Though being the second born Prince Viserys, Lord of Dragonstone, was way more beloved than Rhaegar was. He'd been wise not to repeat his brother's mistakes. People loved Viserys in all his glory. Girls adored his way of handling swords. He would never give away flowers to the wrong ladies in tourneys. He'd father sons.

When King Rhaegar's third child was born a princess, the talking started all over. He tried to keep this away from his wife, who was dearly sorry for the female baby. After all, she was miserable enough to have a husband mourning over two women; a husband, who'd imagine to lay with one of those when they'd lay together.

Viserys even had better words to set the young Queen's mind right, telling her: "At least there's someone to keep Princess Daenerys' company from now on." Back when Princess Visenya was born, Viserys had been a lad of nine namedays, but even then he'd been better with women than Rhaegar was.

The talking silenced some, but rose again when their second daughter was born.

Rhaegar clapped for the dance. His wife looked at him. Begging? Bitter? He did not know, did not care. They had not conceived another child in eight years.

Maybe, he should've not married again. If he'd died childless, Viserys would've been King and Viserys' firstborn after him. Or, in the unlikely event of Viserys' refuse, Daenerys could've been Queen after marrying someone to be her King.

She was a clever girl, his sister. Aye, she would've deserved to be Queen.

Rhaegar's Queen had dreamed of becoming such ever since a little girl. She'd told him of some prophecy. Three children she'd been told to have. Her husband would've more.

He did. He had more. His sweet little Rhaenys, a spitting image of her mother, and Aegon, his little prince. And the babe, who never had a name, of course. Lyanna's stillborn son. He never even got the chance to see that one. Tales told the Mountain had eaten this one, since there was no need to kill it.

Beneath his feet the children continued dancing. His sister bowed before her niece, who, considering the moons they were apart, could've been her sister as well, chuckling. Young lordlings stood around them, confused by their habits.

Rhaegar had never been a good father. And his wife... Oh, she'd been too young to raise but one child. He'd put her into the situation of raising four. She could not be blamed for how the prince and princesses turned out.

He sighed as he watched Visenya spin her aunt around making Daenerys' silver hair fly like butterflies. Three and ten.

His sister was no longer a child. She was a maid freshly flowered, or so he'd heard by his lady wife and seen by the blushes sister and daughter shared some weeks ago. Daenerys Stormborn was a maid fit to be wedded.

And in another few moons his sweet Visenya, flowered on her 12th birthday, would be wedded to her betrothed.

His council and he had discussed the princesses' weddings very soon after they'd been born. But Rhaegar had chosen to keep those arrangements a secret until each girl's thirteenth nameday thinking it would be ages until one of them would be as old.

While Visenya's betrothed attended the feast today, Daenerys' husband-in-waiting was not to be seen. Rhaegar was not surprised. The lad hadn't been invited for the feast. Neither had he or his family been invited for any feast in the past years.

The council had been dead-set to have either Visenya or Daenerys married to this very boy. Rhaegar would've refused would he have had the balls to. But he'd still been in mourn. Visenya had been born two moons early she'd been a sickly baby and so was Daenerys, who would not take well to the wet nurse. Neither King nor Queen nor anyone residing in King's Landing – or so it seemed to the King – had the privilege of much sleep those days. The thought of sending both girls far away from King's Landing actually appealed to him, back then.

Today, though, he would've chosen differently.

If only they'd waited until Rhaenyra was born, years after the other princesses, he would've chosen differently, wiser and kinder. But the deals were already settled then and there was no way he would break oaths with anyone. Not again. Never again.

Rhaegar noticed that the children, no not children anymore, not Daenerys at least, had taken their seats. They waited. Of course. In the morning he'd perished them away, promising he'd tell at midday. At midday he'd avoided them. But now, almost evening, they would want to know.

No one except for the council, Rhaegar and of course the families of their betrothed knew about the marriage arrangements. Not even the Queen knew which cloaks her daughters would wear after their wedding day.

Sweet Daenerys. Mayhaps she would not even dislike the thought as much. But as soon as he'd announce Visenya's betrothal in another two moons both girls would likely start the crying. They'd live their lifes apart from now on. Ever since they shared the nursery they'd lived through every day together. It would break their little dragon hearts for sure.

Rhaegar sighed. He would have to say it. It had been his choice, as had been Viserys' bride to be. His brother had turned out fortunate and happy in his marriage. Why should it necessarily end bad for the princesses? They could send each other ravens, too. And be the gods in their favor they would be able to visit one another in five years or some, when they'd found their place amongst their new families. But still...

He'd seen those kids grow up. It was far too cruel that he was the one to end their childish lifes, the one sword to tear them apart. The gods were cruel to Rhaegar Targaryen, aye. He had to pay for his sins.

His lady wife muttered something to him, which he did not quite understand, but she smiled slightly. Probably she'd said something like: "Say it already." Though she would've used different words like: "Don't you want to tell us, my King?" She never showed the fierceness of Lyanna or the pride of Elia, Rhaegar had loved so much.

The King cleared his throat once more looking directly to the table the three princesses and their cousins sat at. Daenerys clearly stood out amongst the Lannister blonde. Where Visenya's hair was of a lighter shade of gold and Rhaenyra's hair was golden like the Queens, Daenerys' hair was fairer than even Rhaegar's own hair was. Most likely, she'd be the last girl, the last human, ever born with that shade of silver. Viserys sons, anyway, turned out dark-haired, or so he had heard.

"People of the realm", Rhaegar began, "My sister, Princess Daenerys, counts three-and-ten namedays today." Shouts were given at that, cups rose. "After the feast is over, the Princess will be sent to live one year with her betrothed. Next year, on her 14th nameday, they shall be married." The King caught the glimpse of his daughter whispering something to his sister, but Daenerys shook her head eagerly at whatever Visenya had said. "Daenerys, you will go up North to live with your betrothed, Robb Stark."

The room fell in silence. Confusing, maddening silence. Daenerys' violet eyes had grown wide and she was not the only one shocked by the announcement, it seemed.

Why would Rhaegar Targaryen marry his sister to a traitor's son? It seemed pure madness.

Once again, the King let the silence dwell until it was unbearable. "We'll meet again on your wedding day", he managed, stood and fled the hall.