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Game of Thrones: The Ruler- Chapter 54: The Fated Meeting (2)
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 17:39:43 +0000 UTCJon and the young lady continued to stare at each other for a few moments. Their minds raced, each trying to figure the other out. Jon had a hunch, but nothing he could be certain of just yet. And his hunch was something that he had never imagine in his life.
Eventually, his gaze shifted away from the younger woman and returned to the Red Priestess.
“Red Priestess, Melisandre,” he muttered. “To what do I owe the honour of this visit?”
A serene smile curled on Melisandre’s lips as she gracefully dropped to one knee and bowed her head.
“My lord,” she said, “I am merely fulfilling my purpose. I am here as a vessel, a guide for this meeting that fate has long ordained. The Fated Meeting.”
Her red eyes flicked between Jon and the silver haired girl beside her.
“And I am here to serve Azor Ahai, the prince who was promised,” she declared. “You are that prince, and you are the one chosen to fulfil the Song.”
“Stand up,” Jon gave a wry smile. Of course. He should have expected this. And he did not really doubt her loyalty. At least, she would not betray him as long as she believed he was the prophesied saviour. The Azor Ahai.
But still. Did she know about the dragons? Were the dragons the reason for why he had been chosen as the prince who was promised. That question lingered.
“And why me?” he asked coolly. “I doubt conquering cities qualifies me as Azor Ahai, does it?”
Melisandre shook her head softly.
“I am but a servant of the Lord of Light,” she said. “And he works in ways no mortal can hope to comprehend. He has chosen you. I am only the hand that follows his flame lit path.”
A vague, cryptic answer. She had not revealed what she had seen in the fire. Typical of her.
“And who is she?” Jon asked, eyes shifting to the young woman.
Melisandre followed his gaze but offered only a small shrug.
“I do not know. I am merely a guide. The Lord of Light showed me her in the flames, and he commanded me to bring her to you.” She looked between them again. “I just know that she saw you in her dreams and the meeting between the two was a fated one.”
“The rest, is for the two of you to discover,” she added.
Jon now turned his full attention to the silver-haired girl. Saw me in dreams, he thought. His hunch, it was probably right.
“Who are you?” Jon asked, his tone low but firm. “The truth. Only the truth.”
The young woman hesitated.
The truth, her actual identity was something that she had buried years ago. Sealed away in the past. It had been years since she had last thought of that name. She had not spoken about that truth for years. But should she reveal it now? To a stranger?
No. He was not truly a stranger. He had appeared in her dreams. And just as the Red Priestess had said, this meeting felt fated. The Fated Meeting.
Truth. And truth, she chose.
“I am Rhaenys Targaryen,” she said, her voice steady but edged with steel. “Firstborn daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell.”
Even Melisandre, who had stood calmly as the events unfolded, blinked in visible shock. Rhaenys Targaryen. A name thought lost to fire and blood. If she was truly the one fated to meet Lord Aeos, then who was he? Her mind whizzed with all kind of thoughts.
But Jon’s reaction was underwhelming. He gave only a slight raise of his eyebrows, a flicker of acknowledgment but no real surprise. No gasp. No disbelief. Because he had already suspected it.
The silver hair. The timing, coming to him just days after the dragons had hatched. The way she had seen him in her dreams. Every sign screamed Targaryen.
And she was certainly not Daenerys. Which left only one possibility. Rhaenys.
“You are… not surprised?” Rhaenys asked, the shock on her face replacing any trace of hesitation. She had expected disbelief, perhaps awe. Not this calm acceptance.
Jon met her gaze evenly.
“I had a hunch,” he said simply.
“What of Aegon?” Jon asked quietly. If Rhaenys had survived, had her brother, too?
Rhaenys shook her head with a sad smile as tears welled in her eyes. “No. He did not survive.”
“The Mountain killed him,” she said with a wave of sheer disgust and hatred appearing on her face.
“I see,” was all Jon could say.
There was a long pause before Rhaenys finally asked, “Who are you? Why did I see you in my dreams?”
Jon stood from his seat and slowly approached her. Even though she stood tall, composed, her back straight and shoulders squared, he could see it all. The weight she had carried, the scars hidden behind her eyes, the strength that had been forged through pain. He did not need her to say it. Her presence spoke volumes of the hardships she had endured.
Without a word, Jon stepped closer and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
Rhaenys stiffened in surprise. This was not what she had expected. But the instinct to resist died as quickly as it had come. She melted into his embrace, arms wrapping around him in return, her cheek pressing softly against his chest.
For the first time in four years, since the death of the only guardian she had ever known Rhaenys felt the weight of her loneliness lift. In his arms, she felt warmth. Safety. Strength. A place where she no longer needed to be strong alone. All the pain and suffering she had held within herself came flowing from her eyes. She cried and cried her heart out.
They stayed that way for a long moment before slowly separating.
Rhaenys looked more at ease now, the haunted look in her eyes dulled. A sense of peace had settled over her, like her struggle had, finally, led her to its end.
“Who are you?” she asked again, this time more gently.
“I am Jon Snow,” he said.
Her brows furrowed in recognition. A familiar name. The name tugged at something in her memory, but she could not quite place it.
“I am also Aegon Targaryen,” Jon continued, his voice calm. “Son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.”
Melisandre gasped behind them, her eyes wide in stunned realization. Rhaenys’ eyes too bulged in disbelief and shock.
“A song of ice and fire,” Melisandre whispered immediately as if some massive realisation had struck her, disbelief and awe written across her face.
