RHAEGAR
The afternoon arrived quickly, bringing with it the suffocating heat so characteristic of King's Landing. Rhaegar walked through the crowded streets, an act that always felt like a performance. Though he wore a simple, unadorned traveling cloak, his silver hair was a curtain that could not be hidden. People moved aside, bowed, and whispered as he passed, their gazes a mixture of awe, curiosity, and fear.
Today, however, Rhaegar barely noticed them. His mind was not filled with the ever-darkening shadow of his father. Instead, he found himself constantly replaying the strange melody from that morning, the song about letting things be, sung in the clear, unexpected voice of a young boy. There was a peace in that memory, a brief respite from the storm that was his life. A faint smile touched his lips without him realizing it.
Beside him, walking with long, easy strides, stood Arthur Dayne. There was an empty space around Arthur, an aura of deadly competence that made even the most audacious pickpockets and merchants keep their distance. His eyes never stopped moving, constantly scanning the crowd, the rooftops, and the dark alleyways.
Arthur noticed the smile. "You've been scowling a lot lately," he said, his deep, calm voice cutting clearly through the city's noise. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Rhaegar shrugged, his smile fading slightly at being caught.
Arthur was not fooled. He knew Rhaegar better than anyone, perhaps even better than Rhaegar knew himself. They had grown up together, first as fellow wards at court, and now as friends. "You must have spoken with the Lannister boy, haven't you?" Arthur guessed.
Rhaegar raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking at his friend. "How did you know?"
Dayne smirked his typical thin smile, one more often seen in his eyes than on his lips. "Oh, come on, it's not hard to figure out. The boy has only been here for two days, and this morning you came back from the garden with an expression I haven't seen in months, the look of someone who has just discovered something good, not your usual lament." He paused for a moment. "I also heard he's an avid book reader, just like you."
"Jaime... a book reader?" Rhaegar was genuinely surprised to hear this. This morning, he had only thought the boy was merely interested in folk songs, an unusual music enthusiast. He had never imagined him as such. Boys from great Houses were usually more interested in swords and horses, not dusty scrolls.
Arthur chuckled, a low, pleasant laugh. "I was training with his guard, Ser Jon of Clearwater, this morning. He's a capable and skilled knight. I was impressed by his skill. He has an honest strength and perseverance. We talked afterward." Arthur paused, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And he spoke of his 'Young Lord' with a passion usually reserved for discussing a new warhorse or a tournament victory. Especially about the prospect of 'paper'."
"Paper?" Rhaegar frowned, the word sounding foreign.
"It's a parchment-like material they've created," Arthur explained. "Jon described it as something born from 'two weeks of suffering in a hell of cloth pulp', but the result, according to him, was worth it. They claim it's thinner and more practical than parchment, and honestly, Rhaegar, it looked quite good." Arthur nodded to himself, as if remembering it. "Jon showed me a sheet his master gave him as a 'bonus'. It was white, smooth... I won't describe much, but when I saw that one sheet, the first thing that came to my mind was, 'Oh, Rhaegar would love this.'"
Rhaegar's mind immediately started racing. A new writing medium? Made not from animal hide, but from... cloth? "Then you should have brought some," Rhaegar said, his curiosity now fully piqued.
Arthur smiled. "It was just his personal 'sample', and I doubt he would part with it; he held it like a sacred relic. If you're interested, you can see it for yourself. He's at your court now, you know that, right? He's not going anywhere."
"I'll try to see it then," Rhaegar nodded, a plan beginning to form in his mind. He wanted to see this thing. He wanted to talk to Jaime again, not just about music, but about this. About ideas. He felt a wave of intellectual excitement he hadn't felt in a long time. "And to be honest," he added, "we just talked about songs this morning."
"Impressive," Arthur joked, his tone light. "One more person in the kingdom has managed to impress the gloomy Prince Rhaegar."
Rhaegar laughed, a free and genuine sound. "It wasn't just that. He sang songs I had never heard before. Strange and beautiful songs. He said he got them from people coming in and out of the port at Lannisport."
"Is he a good singer?" Arthur looked up at the evening sky, as if trying to imagine it.
"Very," Rhaegar affirmed. "His voice is melodious, and the lyrics... the lyrics are moving. I like his taste. It's not like the usual heroic songs we hear. It's more... real."
They walked in silence for a moment, Rhaegar lost in his thoughts. Jaime Lannister. Two days ago, he was just another name on the guest list, the son of his father's Hand, one half of a pair of twins famous for their beauty. Now, he was something else. An enthusiast of folk music. A secret singer. A book reader. And an inventor.
"He seems different from what I've heard," Rhaegar said quietly, more to himself.
"How so?" Arthur asked.
"Everyone talks about the Lannisters as proud, power-hungry lions. They talk about gold and debts and The Rains of Castamere. But this boy..." Rhaegar paused, trying to find the right word. "He feels... older than his years. Calmer. He doesn't have the overflowing arrogance I expected. There's a seriousness to him, but also a strange cheerfulness."
Arthur nodded slowly. "Ser Jon said something similar. He said his master sometimes talks like a maester, and the next moment, he'll be roaring with laughter at a story about a guard slipping in the mud. He said it gives him whiplash."
Rhaegar smiled. He could understand that. This morning, he had seen both sides: the musician and the shy boy.
…
Night fell with the usual noise within the Red Keep. The clinking of armor from the changing of the guard, the echo of hurried footsteps of servants in the stone corridors, and the faint hum of the city below that never truly slept. But inside Prince Rhaegar's private solar, there was a pocket of peace. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a golden light on the tapestries depicting Targaryen hunts and battles of old.
Jaime Lannister arrived on time, escorted by a servant. He was not alone. His sworn shield, Ser Jon, followed him, standing silently near the door, his sturdy figure a quiet reminder of the dangerous world outside. Rhaegar had invited him and allowed Ser Jon to enter as well; he understood the bond between a young Lord and his protector.
Across the room, in a comfortable armchair near the fire, Ser Arthur Dayne was seated. For a rare moment, he was not standing guard. Instead, he was reading a book, his head bowed, his presence calming. What book he was reading was anyone's guess; Arthur always had an unexpected depth.
"I didn't think you'd actually want to see me again, Prince Rhaegar," Jaime smiled as he approached, the same easy smile as in the garden that morning. "I thought you were just being polite about my voice this morning."
Rhaegar chuckled, motioning for Jaime to sit in the chair opposite him. "I never lie, especially when it comes to that. The songs you brought are so beautiful that I've prepared parchment to memorize the lyrics, if you don't mind?" He pointed to a small table beside him, where a clean scroll of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill had been prepared.
Jaime's eyes widened with surprise and delight. "Not at all." He leaned forward, his enthusiasm genuine. "I'm very flattered you'd want to do that. It means all my efforts to sneak through the port weren't in vain. After all, if I do it again, I can make an excuse. 'Hey, the Prince likes this, these songs will bring peace to the kingdom!'"
Rhaegar burst out laughing, a free and genuine laugh he hadn't felt in a long time. From the corner of his eye, he saw even the usually serious lips of Arthur Dayne twitch into a slight smile.
"Alright, let's begin," Rhaegar said, unrolling the parchment and dipping his quill into the ink.
And so their evening began. Jaime, with an incredible memory, began to sing or recite the songs he knew, one by one. He sang again, and this time, Rhaegar could write down the lyrics, the words feeling just as powerful on parchment as they did when he heard them. He recited another, about a pair of lovers, and Rhaegar wrote quickly, trying to capture the simple sadness in the words.
The scratching of Rhaegar's quill on the parchment became the only rhythm in the room, accompanied by Jaime's clear and rhythmic voice. It was a strange and unexpected situation, a moment of pure creation in the midst of a world filled with destruction.
"With all these songs you know," Rhaegar spoke between verses, without lifting his head from his work, "have you ever thought of creating your own?"
Jaime fell silent for a moment. "I'm not very good at making this kind of thing," he said with a smile. "Every note I compose is always a mess."
"So you have tried?" Rhaegar continued to write, but his ears were now fully focused on Jaime's answer.
"Sometimes when I'm alone, when I'm lying down to sleep," Jaime said. "I always imagine things along the way then. The scenery, the people, the feelings... Then I would turn them into words. The words I create, I have to admit, are quite good. But when it comes to the melody, it's very disappointing. It feels like trying to fit an eagle into a canary's cage."
Rhaegar stopped writing. He put down his quill and looked straight into the boy's eyes across from him. He saw a flicker of frustration there, the frustration of an artist whose vision surpasses his ability. Rhaegar understood that feeling all too well. "Perhaps we could collaborate," he said softly. "You create the lyrics, and I'll create the melody. Wouldn't that be interesting?"
Jaime's eyes lit up, all remnants of doubt vanishing, replaced by pure, boyish excitement. "Really? Of course, I'd love to! It would be an honor."
Rhaegar laughed again, delighted by the genuine enthusiasm. He looked at the half-filled parchment, and it reminded him of his conversation with Arthur. He decided to change the subject. "By the way, I've heard about your 'paper'. Are you really sure it's better than parchment?"
Jaime raised an eyebrow, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He knew exactly what Rhaegar was doing. "Yes. You can try it for yourself, Prince."
He then reached into the small leather pouch that always hung at his waist and took out a few neatly folded sheets of white paper. He handed them to Rhaegar.
Rhaegar took them. The first thing he noticed was how light the paper was. Then, he felt it. The surface was smooth, but not slick like the most expensive parchment. There was a faint texture of fibers underneath. "This is good," he said, his voice filled with sincere admiration.
"Thank the hard work of Ser Jon of Clearwater," Jaime joked, winking at his sworn shield who stood near the door. Ser Jon only gave a small, awkward nod.
Without hesitation, Rhaegar picked up his quill again, dipped it in ink, and began to write on the new medium. The stroke felt different. Easier. The tip of the quill glided over the surface with little resistance, and the ink absorbed quickly, creating sharp, clean lines. He liked it. He liked it a lot.
"You can make a lot of these?" Rhaegar asked, raising his head, his eyes shining with new possibilities.
"It's still in the planning stage, but yes. Are you interested in them, Prince?"
"Of course. This is amazing." Rhaegar placed the sheet down as if it were a jewel. "How many can you produce?"
"When everything is running smoothly, with a water mill and enough workers," Jaime confirmed calmly, "it's not impossible to produce ten to twenty thousand in a month."
Rhaegar was stunned. He put down his quill. Across the room, he saw that even Arthur Dayne had lifted his head from his book, his eyes fixed on Jaime with the same shocked expression.
"That many?" Rhaegar's voice was barely a whisper. The number was almost incomprehensible. The library in the Red Keep, which had been collected over centuries, probably didn't even have that many sheets of parchment.
"Yes," Jaime said simply. "This could change a lot of things, couldn't it?" His smile returned, the smile of a dreamer who had thought about all of this for a long time.
"'Change a lot of things' is an understatement," Rhaegar said slowly, his mind racing. "Jaime, with numbers like that... we could copy every book in the Citadel. We could send royal decrees to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms in an instant."
"And not just that, Prince," Jaime said, leaning forward again, his voice filled with the same passion. "Think about knowledge. Right now, knowledge belongs to the maesters and the great Lords. It's a closely guarded treasure. With cheap and abundant paper, knowledge could become... water. Something accessible to more people. Merchants could learn better accounting. Builders could share new designs. Even farmers might be able to learn to record all their harvests."
Rhaegar listened, mesmerized. This was an echo of his own thoughts, thoughts he often kept to himself. He had always believed that the true strength of a kingdom lay not just in its dragons or its armies, but in its people. An educated people, a prosperous people, a united people. And here, a nine-year-old boy was offering him the tool to achieve that.
"You're talking about a revolution," Rhaegar whispered.
"I'm talking about progress," Jaime corrected gently. "A smarter kingdom is a stronger kingdom. And a stronger kingdom is harder to destroy."
Rhaegar leaned back in his chair, his mind filled with images: new libraries being built in major cities, merchants' children learning to read and write, more accurate maps, better-recorded history. He saw a future, a future he might be able to build himself.
He looked at Jaime Lannister, at the boy who had walked into his life and, in two days, had given him more hope than he had felt in years.
"You're right," Rhaegar said finally, his voice filled with a newfound conviction. "This will change everything."
"But it will take time. A very, very long time," Jaime continued, his expression becoming more serious, more analytical. "To make it happen, paper is just the first step. It's the tool. But a tool is useless if no one knows how to use it. First, we have to make people literate."
"How do you do that?"
The voice was deep and calm, cutting in from the side of the room. It belonged to Arthur. He had put down his book, and he was looking at Jaime with the intensity of a soldier assessing a battle plan. "By having every Maester travel from village to village? The Citadel would never agree. They don't have enough men, and the Lords wouldn't like a maester teaching their peasants to read complaints."
Jaime was slightly surprised by Arthur joining the conversation, but he didn't seem fazed. Instead, he smiled, as if pleased with the challenge. "No, of course not. The Maesters serve the Lords, not the common folk. We'll teach people to read in a different way. We'll build a 'school'. A place of learning." He said the word as if he were introducing a completely new concept. "A school for people who are not just nobles."
"That would require a great deal of capital," Rhaegar said, deliberately pouring a little oil on the fire, wanting to see more of the boy's thinking. He wasn't trying to shoot down the idea; he was testing it, like a blacksmith testing a new blade.
"Yes," Jaime said. "That's why we have to start smart. We have to build these schools in the major cities first. Lannisport and King's Landing, for example. Places where there's already a thriving merchant class, people who already understand the value of numbers and words. They will be the first to see the benefit."
"And who will teach?" Rhaegar asked, continuing his role as the devil's advocate.
"We don't need a Maester to teach children how to write their names," Jaime said. "There are many educated people who need work. Younger sons of minor Lords who will inherit nothing. Septons in the cities who can spare a few hours a day. We will pay them. It will be an honorable job."
"So you're asking House Lannister to fund all of this indefinitely?" Arthur asked. "Even the gold of Casterly Rock has its limits."
"Initially, yes," Jaime admitted. "It's a startup investment. But the long-term goal is for the schools to be self-sustaining. Even better, over time, they will become free."
"Free?" Rhaegar frowned. It was a foreign concept. Nothing was free.
"Think of it as a long-term investment, Prince," Jaime explained, his eyes sparkling as he explained the mechanics. "At first, we'll charge a very small fee to the merchants and craftsmen who send their children. Just enough to help cover the costs. But, over time, what happens when you have a more educated population? Trade becomes more efficient. New businesses emerge. Prosperity increases."
He leaned forward. "The taxes from that increased trade, the revenue from a busier port of Lannisport, all of that will flow back into the coffers. That extra profit will pay for these schools many times over. After a few years, we won't need to charge the students anymore. For the farmers and craftsmen, it will be free. For us, it's a profit. An investment in the people that yields the greatest return..."
Rhaegar leaned back in his chair, his mind spinning. He was thinking about many things.
And he was so engrossed in it
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Thank you for reading! You can read chapters 19-39 at Patreon.com/Daario_W
Oh, don't forget to give Power Stones :'p, if we reach 50 this week, I will upload an extra chapter.