A vague revelation

The prince had meant to ease the tension over a meal, only for Rhaenys to anger him so badly that his stomach hurt, and he stormed off.

Ghost regretted it too. She had already done her best to convey that she would not interfere with Rhaegar, that she would obediently serve as a pretty ornament, a mascot... so Rhaegar could feel free to love someone else.

The prince had wanted to improve their relationship, and she had ruined it.

But perhaps that was for the best. Only then could she give up hope completely and follow this road with no future to its very end.

Romance and marriage were not suited to an anomaly like her.

Although she had angered the prince again, Ghost actually felt rather pleased. Rhaegar truly was different from the king and those other promiscuous nobles.

He had tried to approach her and understand her. That meant the marriage decreed by the king was not so difficult for him to accept, perhaps...

On the way back, the prince's steward said nothing, but kept giving Ghost reproachful looks.

In the end, the steward could not hold back his complaint. "The prince began telling us to prepare the dinner and decorate the banquet hall at noon. He always used to dine alone in silence..."

"I'm sorry. I was too unreasonable." Ghost was filled with guilt. Perhaps she should go see the prince?

Having made up her mind, she told the maids, "I'm going to rest. Whatever happens, don't come in and disturb me."

She locked the door from the inside, found a tapestry at random, rolled it up and covered it with the quilt, then transformed into a little spitz and slipped out through the high window.

There was no moon that night, and torches had been placed throughout the castle for light. Seen from a distance at night, the towering turrets of the Red Keep resembled dragons roaring with their heads raised.

Ghost moved swiftly on light feet. In the firelight, human eyes could catch only a fleeting white shadow. She sniffed out the prince's scent and followed it toward where it was strongest.

The prince had not gone back to bed. Instead, he was somewhere that looked like a ruin. Everything in sight was charred black, as though an explosion had occurred, leaving broken walls and rubble everywhere.

Ghost found it strange. Had His Majesty never sent anyone to rebuild such a large stretch of ruins?

When Ghost found Rhaegar, he was sitting on a half-collapsed colonnade, gently plucking a silver harp. Arthur Dayne, a Kingsguard like a black tower, stood guard nearby.

Arthur Dayne, the "Sword God of the Morning," was probably the Kingsguard closest to Prince Rhaegar. The show had mentioned that he and the prince were more friends than master and servant. It seemed that was true.

Ghost thought of Elia's interests again and wondered whether she might influence Arthur through Rhaegar and get him to return to secular life or something...

Forget it. That would probably be very difficult.

Before she could approach, Arthur Dayne heard her. He looked warily into the shadows. Ghost had no desire to take a sudden sword strike from him, so she could only emerge slowly from behind a broken wall.

Arthur Dayne slowly sheathed his sword. "You again."

"Woof~" The little white dog wagged her tail at him ingratiatingly.

Arthur Dayne walked over and scooped the puppy up in one hand. "Just in time. Rhaegar's in a bad mood. Keep him company."

Ghost instinctively wanted to nod but just managed to stop herself. She wagged her tail furiously and gave Arthur two more little puppy barks.

Rhaegar seemed immersed in the moonlight, singing softly to himself, when something fluffy was suddenly tossed into his lap, startling him.

The little white dog nuzzled into Rhaegar's lap, wagging her tail ingratiatingly.

Rhaegar said, "Isn't this the puppy from the baths last time? Why has she come running here again?"

Arthur Dayne said, "Yes. Play with her. Stop singing. It sounds awful."

Rhaegar nearly fell over in indignation. "What do you mean, awful? You simply don't appreciate art. When I played and sang in a tavern in King's Landing, people even tipped me."

"Yes, and why don't you mention how they tried to drag you away after tipping you...? If I hadn't been with you, one of King's Landing's pleasure houses would probably have gained a new star attraction."

"That was... forget it."

Rhaegar turned away awkwardly and improvised a song on the spot for the puppy on the ground, then asked her earnestly, "Do you think I sing well?"

Ghost truly... hated how sharp her senses were at that moment, especially her hearing.

Rhaegar had a good voice, and he played the harp well. But not a single line he sang was in tune, and his voice took strange twists and turns, as though he were singing aboard a ship tossed about in a storm.

Her head buzzed. She shook it instinctively, lost her footing, and toppled to the ground.

"Ha. Ha." Arthur Dayne gave two dry laughs like an emotionless robot. "Even the dog thinks your singing is awful."

Rhaegar ignored Arthur's mockery and looked at the little white dog in wonder. "Can she understand us? I saw her shake her head. How clever."

Rhaegar picked up the little spitz. The puppy was very clean and even smelled lovely. Someone in the palace must have been keeping her, but he had never seen anyone bring her out.

Rhaegar asked the puppy earnestly, "What's your name? Who do you belong to?"

Ghost wagged her tail. "...Woof, woof, woof."

If I spoke, wouldn't I scare you to death?

Prince Rhaegar was actually quite easygoing and amusing in private. That aloof dreamboat demeanor he showed in public was only his outward appearance. Arthur Dayne was probably very used to this side of him.

And who exactly said Rhaegar sang beautifully? Rumors really did lead people astray! Only his harp playing was any good.

Oh, right. It was Cersei recalling it in her POV in the original books. She said, "When Rhaegar sang, he was tender and passionate, moving people to tears..."

Those simp goggles had to be two meters thick, didn't they?

With the little spitz to play with, Rhaegar stopped playing and singing. He stroked the puppy's soft, silky fur and sighed. "If only you didn't have an owner. I could give you to my fiancée."

"Woof."

"Little William, why do you think women are so much trouble?"

"Woof, woof, woof!" (What the hell was Little William?)

"I'll have to ask Mother again tomorrow..."

"Woo?" (Queen Rhaella? What would she say about me?)

"Why not take her back with you? She could chat with you every day." Arthur Dayne watched speechlessly as Rhaegar and the puppy talked past each other. He did not think the puppy understood them, only that she was rather perceptive.

Rhaegar vaguely felt that Arthur seemed to be taking a dig at him. He shook his head. "No. Taking what belongs to someone else is dishonorable."

He set the little white dog on the ground and gently patted her head. "I didn't bring any food today. If I get the chance, I'll give you some meat next time."

"Whew, it's a little cold. Let's go back, Arthur."

Only once the prince was far away did Ghost leisurely prepare to return. She had gained another layer of understanding of Prince Rhaegar that day.

This true dragon prince who lived in everyone's memories was really only an ordinary young man. In private, he had his own little hobbies and sang terribly. He liked spending time with commoners and would sing and play for them.

He was gentlemanly and gentle toward women, yet he also possessed the necessary decisiveness to kill-she could tell from how he had drawn his sword to duel Oberyn for her sake.

She also knew that sometimes the prince had no choice but to maneuver around Tywin and his daughter for the sake of affairs of state. After all, Tywin Lannister had become Hand of the King at twenty. Even the common folk knew that "the king feasts, and the Hand shits."

For decades, this country had relied on Tywin's governance to remain stable and peaceful.

She should treat him a little better... If nothing unexpected happened, they would marry, and perhaps even have... Hmm, that was thinking too far ahead.

In that case, Lyanna Stark would not die young, nor would the old wolf and his son die... The whole series of events that followed would change, wouldn't it?

Then this transmigration of hers would not have been in vain.

As Ghost was lost in thought, faint murmurs suddenly sounded in her ears. Was something speaking?

She could not make them out at all. She pricked up her ears and quietly searched for the direction they came from. It seemed to be the garden...

Ghost broke into a run. Those fragmented murmurs gradually grew clearer, seeming to be prayers to something in an unknown language.