There was no time, no room for Silver King, to suffer. There was war on all sides - but it was the one ahead of them, that he’d spent his life preparing for. He’d caught a glimpse of the horror, some time before - corpses walking, his brother and the dragon, shot from the sky. Blue eyes in frozen faces. The Endless Night, ready to devour them all. Truly, if they did not end this, there would simply be no throne left for anyone to even go to war over.
And so, instead of allowing the grief to creep up on him, he stood, head bent, eyes on a map of Winterfell and its surroundings. There was nothing left to discuss, but there was worry like ice surrounding his heart, and Rhaegar couldn’t help but stress, again and again, on what they might have overlooked, what flaw there must be in their plans - but he could think of nothing.
They would die, or they wouldn’t. All they could do was wait for it to happen.
“ I can’t help but feel as if there is something we are missing, ” finally, the eldest dragon expressed his concerns, musician’s voice soft with worry. Indigo gaze was caught by flame-like hair the moment he looked up, and he blinked once, twice. “ They are progressing with the defenses, and we should have plenty of fuel for all fires that shall be lit. Smiths work day and night to provide dragonglass weapons. And yet... ” Silver hair had slid before his eyes, and he brushed it back impatiently.
“ I wish it did not have to be the North that suffers. ” Had it not suffered enough? He’d heard of lady Stark’s eldest brother, the fate he’d suffered, and the demise of the youngest one. Fragments of her own story, too. Teeth worried his bottomlip. “ But if we do not make a stand somewhere, we will be overrun, and all is lost. ”
plotted starter | @firstcfhername | for sansa