░▒▌╳▐ s ɪ ʟ ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ᴘ ʀ ɪ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ
DURING THE early years of his survival, the Targaryen would do all that was necessary in order to remain hidden. For the rest of the world, he was dead and such was best for his surviving siblings. Were those who oppose his family to know that he’s in fact, quite alive still; it might endanger his brother and sister’s lives.
Already, the demise of his family falls upon his shoulders and though he’s learned to live with this gnawing GUILT, no more ought to suffer the consequences of his decisions. Rhaegar has ventured and traveled from one city to the other, never staying too long albeit his precautions but as the years transpired, Rhaegar allowed himself to worry less for his appearance ( he no longer resembled the once regal crown prince, not exactly ) for those who ever knew him here are dead. When the voice—a familiar one—called out to him, he visibly stiffened but just as swiftly hides the tense demeanor when he turns. His eyes however, are wide at the sight of the other man.
He’s older, the red in his hair not as vivid as it had once been ( now closer to a dull auburn ), as aged as his eyes and face altogether. But it was him. With a wariness in his step, the fallen prince approaches who he believes to once have been his friend, Jon Connington. The Targaryen said nothing for a moment when he stood before him for he could see the RECOGNITION in the man’s gaze—his heart quickens in both apprehension and anticipation.
❝ Jon. ❞ Voice, laced with the melancholy that lives in his soul, broke the silence.
Jon could not believe what he was seeing, if he was a more foolish man he would’ve assumed that what he was seeing was just a doppelganger. No, Jon was not a foolish man. At least not anymore, no, not anymore. Never would he be foolish again, never would he make any more foolish mistakes. Not calling out to Rhaegar would’ve been one. He was already glad he had called out to him.
“It’s,” Jon choked out the words, “It’s been far too long.” Jon had spent the last years living a lie, a lie that was nescitated upon the belief that his Silver Prince was dead. Now that turned out to be a lie as well, a fact that would’ve made Jon even more bitter if that was possible. He had been bittered to the point of excess.
“I’m...” He stopped himself, Rhaegar did not need to see him getting emotional. This was not the time for that, no need to waste their first meeting in a long time with him becoming emotional. “I’m glad that you are alive, Your Grace. I...I wish I had known you lived.” Rhaegar may not be king nor prince in the eyes of many of the people of Westeros but he was the rightful king in Jon’s eyes. He always had been.
“I’m sorry.” The apology was most likely unneeded but he felt like he needed to make it, he needed to apologise to the man he had failed. “I am sorry.” He repeated it once more, he felt he needed to say it once more to make it real.
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