The Lady and The Prince

Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince

A prince and a lady.  How would the pair fair?  In storybook land, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark meet.  In Song of Ice and Fire, Rhaegar bestows the crown onto Lyanna after winning a tournament, crowning her as the Queen of Love and Beauty.  The prince is skilled, trained, and powerful; the lady, a dark breed, is wild and strong-willed.  Their meeting causes a riot —tis the day that all flowers died—when Prince Rhaegar abducts Lady Lyanna and they set out . . . somewhere.  



Setting his heart on Lyanna, Robert Baratheon would not tolerate a cutting deed without a severe punishment.  Baratheon becomes king.  Having been taken in with Lyanna at first sight, Baratheon searches for what he wants; consequently, Rhaegar who loves poems and songs suffers a deadly blow from the beastly, mighty Baratheon.  

Baratheon searches for Lyanna whom he intends to marry.  He finds Rhaegar and kills him with a single strike.  Baratheon, not a gentle man, but a large, burly man does not like songs or poems.  Ruthless in his slaying of Prince Rhaegar, Lyanna is found dying in a pool of blood in a room that smelled of bloods and roses by a male family member; thereupon she whispers her last words to him:  "Promise me Ned . . ."  And the rest?  Unknown.  Lyanna Stark is a character, a footnote in Games of Thrones.  





Prince Rhaegar crowns Lady Lyanna

To love, or to be loved by a buck, as big as a house,

I harbor a deep inner conflict of two divided ends,

Where I love truly, but his, shallow, than my lust to be douse,

And then he, a buck who cannot let his eyes bend,

 

 

That which a man loves me, but his unable to mend,

He’d love and mourn for me, even after my time,

And then he, a buck who cannot let his eyes bend,

A coupling of a bear and a largemouth bass bind,

 

 

I cannot love a burly buck, who sees me for his sole mind,

Notwithstanding his desire to stay with me, I’m destined,

A coupling of a bear and a largemouth bass bind,

I am betrothed to be with the one, who I am not moved,

 

 

Prince I love, adorn me with winter’s pale blue roses, has touched,

He crowned me as the queen of love and beauty,

Albeit he has a close and dear, and has already coupled,

But he won the tournament of men, bestowed with his artistry,

 

 

I, born of dark tresses, burn like fire, a wild beauty, fiery,

Penned a half-horse and the wolf-girl,

But he won the tournament of men, bestowed with his artistry,

And he, of eyes azure, light the lucid skies, behind svelte manes, coil,

 

 

And so we escape from our homestead, on a sweet-sounding sail,

To love, or to be loved by a buck, as big as a house,

And he, of eyes azure, light the lucid skies, behind svelte manes, coil,

Where I love truly, but his, shallow, than my lust to be douse.