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The tourney at Harrenhal was the largest one Jon had ever attended. The number of people gathered there was enormous even the first day, but it seemed that even more were coming as the days progressed. It amused Jon to think that were he to wander off, to any other place nearby, he would find it empty.

Logically he was aware of the silliness of that though, but it was tempting nevertheless. Empty places were quiet, and with so many people around Harrenhal, it was proving to be anything but. Between small and not-so-small feasts, different festivities, preparations for this or that event and of course, tourney competitions, there were always people running about.

He heard that the grounds seemed almost deserted when the jousting was taking place, but unfortunately Jon couldn’t enjoy that, since he was still competing himself. The only time Jon wasn’t feeling like being stuck in the middle of a storm, was when he was hiding with his silver prince.

Even the loudest things outside appeared quieter, muted when he was with Rhaegar. Every though focused on the Prince and everything else paled in comparison. From that first night, when Jon slightly drunkenly followed a whispered promise of a quieter place, his hand lightly grasped in Rhaegar’s as the Prince led them through hallways to his rooms.

Surprisingly, it had been quieter there, but the silence was soon filled with quiet gasps and deep moans, with soft thuds when clothes hit the floor and finally with rustling of the sheets. Neither of them had spoken that night, preferring to touch and kiss, losing themselves in each other and the quietness around them.

In the next days, Jon found himself in the Prince’s bed, tracing the patterns on the pale white skin, watching Rhaegar sleep, as he waited for the sun to rise.


The jousting competition was the last one to end. The stands were impossibly full for the last matches; people gathered could see how one by one each great jouster left, until there was only two left. Everybody favored the silver headed Crown Prince in his black armor, the mass cheering him on, towards victory.

On the other side, opposing the Prince, stood Jon. He expected to be out of the joust long before he had any chance of riding against Rhaegar. Never had he imagined he would get dragged back to bed by an almost naked and slightly rumpled looking Rhaegar to get kissed breathless and wished the best of luck in a joust against him.

Not that Jon ever wanted to win against his Prince, he would gladly just surrender the fight than lift his lance against him, no matter the situation. His heart was beating erratically, noises getting louder by a second. His squire said something, but Jon couldn’t hear him. He waved him away, just wanting to get this over with.

The noise around him was slowly diminishing under the quick tu-thump tu-thump tu-thump of his heartbeat. And before he was aware or prepared (not that he would ever be) there came a signal, and instinct alone forced Jon into movement.


When Jon was finally allowed to stop, to slide from his horse, to congratulate Rhaegar, he was completely tired, his muscles screaming in pain with each step he took.

Somehow he had won.

He was barely aware as he bowed to the king, the Prince a solid presence beside him, talking with everybody around him, waving to the masses still cheering. He felt Rhaegar’s hand on his shoulder and turned to find somebody handing him the famed crown of winter roses.

Jon was aware he was supposed to find a lady he admired and give the crown to her. The stands seemed to fall in an expectant hush, all eyes on Jon (not that he was aware), but all he could see was Rhaegar. His silvery blond hair was plastered to his forehead; his purple eyes were shining in the sun, a slight twist to his lips, as he regarded Jon.

When his father would demand what he was thinking later on, Jon would claim a momentary lapse in judgment, because he was not even aware he was doing it, as his hands lifted and he handed he crown to his Prince, his Rhaegar.

Even Jon noticed the shocked silence that followed once Rhaegar grasped the crown, a slight chuckle escaping from his mouth and echoing around them, like they were the only one there.


Jon decided to avoid the feast that followed that night, even though he was supposed to be there as he was the tourney champion. Seeing how his father raged like Jon was little again and accidentally set his new wooden sword on fire again, he thought it best to just hide from everybody.

He couldn’t really explain why he thought the best place to hide was Rhaegar’s room, but that was where he ended. The room was of course empty, everything in its place, as it has always been when Jon was here before. The only thing out of place was the crown. It was laying on the bed, the blue petals glowing almost silver in the candlelight.

Jon walked up to the bed and set down, running his fingers over the crown. He was aware ho shouldn’t have given it to Rhaegar, but he couldn’t help but think he made the right decision. After all, you were supposed to give it to the one you admire. And love.

“The king is not pleased with this.”

Lost as he was in his thoughts, Jon didn’t hear Rhaegar enter, until he spoke. Unconsciously, his hand tightened around the crown and he felt thorns prickle his skin, as he looked up at the Prince.

“I’m sorry.”

Jon watched as Rhaegar nodded, moving, until he stood in front of Jon. His hair seemed to glow in the soft light in the room, the shade almost like gold. Jon was confused when Prince extended his hand to him, but as he caught the look to the crown, he quickly handed it to him.

“You looked completely surprised when you saw me holding this,” Rhaegar said, as he turned the crown in his hands, his eyes moving from it to look at Jon. When he caught Jon’s eyes, he smiled and tipped his head back, his silvery hair falling back, and put the crown on.

“How do I look?”

Beautiful, Jon thought, but Rhaegar didn’t give him time to respond.

“Is it like you imagined?” His now free hands landed on Jon’s shoulders, his purple eyes glowing with some hidden emotion, as he moved, until he was straddling Jon. Without any thought, Jon’s arms landed on Rhaegar’s hips and he saw his mouth curving in a pleased smile as he pulled him closer.

Jon wanted to say yes, it looked beautiful amazing perfect, but he got no chance, as Rhaegar’s lips found his, quieting him with a deep kiss. He followed the silent command of his Prince, as his hands pushed him backwards, and together they fall, their mouths still joined.

Jon opened his eyes as Rhaegar pushed himself up slightly, shifting around, getting comfortable and as his hips ground into Jon’s, Jon felt his blood rushing in his veins, heartbeat speeding up. He tightened his hands on Rhaegar’s hips and pulled him down, grinding their hardening erections together, turning the Prince’s chuckle into a startled groan.

Jon managed to steal one more kiss, before Rhaegar was sitting up, moving his hips in slow circles, grinding down on Jon’s cock. Jon caught something about clothes, before Rhaegar was untying the laces on his shirt, pushing the thing away and bending to lick his collarbone.

“Have you imagined this, Jon?”

This time Jon managed to stutter out a yes, while Rhaegar’s fingers pinched his nipple, moving his hands down his stomach, nails dragging down and Jon arched up, groaning, as Rhaegar bit down at the hollow of his neck. He felt his Prince shifting, and he hissed at the feeling, trying to pull him back down, as Rhaegar pushed himself up to knees.

Jon looked up as he felt Rhaegar looming over him, meeting Prince’s darkened eyes, purple so dark it seemed almost blackish blue. He was talking; his voice rough and quiet, but impossibly loud at the same time.

“I imagined this, so many times, Jon. Today has dragged on and on, as all I wanted was to find you and drag you up here and fuck you. I wanted you, if I could get away with it, I would have dragged you off right after you handed me that bloody damned crown.”

Jon was nodding at Rhaegar’s words, but only catching half of them, his attention focused on the Prince’s mouth, glistening in the candlelight, and the darkened eyes, focused solely on Jon. He lifted his hands to tangle his fingers in the silver locks above him, pulling Rhaegar’s head down, crashing their mouths together.

Unconsciously, Jon loosened his grip on Prince’s head, moving his hand up, knocking the crown up. They separated, as Rhaegar laughed and Jon yelped, as he scratched his hand again. Jon pulled the crown away, intending to throw it aside, when Rhaegar stopped him. Jon looked as the Prince stood, pulling his clothes off, messing his hair in the process. He was pulling Jon’s pants off, with Jon lifting his hips up to help, when Rhaegar started talking again.

“I want to wear this crown of yours, when you are buried deep in me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jon managed to say, even if his head felt like his brain exploded. He half sat up, before Rhaegar was on the bed again, dropping a small bottle beside Jon and pushing him to lie back. He took the crown from Jon, putting it back on his head.

“I had a whole day to think about it.” Rhaegar said, moving until he was straddling Jon again, their erections touching without layers of clothing, and they both groaned at the contact, Jon arching under Rhaegar’s fingers. He felt his Prince’s lips biting lightly on his exposed neck and he moved his head until their mouths slid together again.

They were both out of breath, when Rhaegar again pushed himself to his knees and Jon moaned at the loss of the warm body on top of his. He was running his fingers up Rhaegar’s legs, as he waited for Rhaegar to open the bottle, still ending spilling the liquid all over his fingers.

Before Jon could offer to help, Rhaegar was already mumbling something about faster this way, leaning over Jon as he began stretching himself. His eyes, already dark, appeared even darker, pupils blown, but still somehow focused on Jon’s. His mouth was open, soft gasps coming through, and Jon, who wanted to wait and hurry up at the same time, just dragged his head down again, pushing their mouths together, even as he wrapped a hand over Rhaegar’s cock and pulled.

He swallowed the groan that followed and left his hand wrapped around Rhaegar, letting his cock fuck Jon’s hand, as Rhaegar prepared himself for Jon’s.

Soon after Rhaegar was pulling back, licking his already shining lips, and pushing Jon’s hand away. He got some more liquid on his fingers and wrapped them around Jon, who arched into the touch, his whole body curving up toward Rhaegar’s.

But his Prince didn’t give him time to enjoy this, his hand moved up and down Jon’s hard length, before moving away. Jon just lay as still as possible, as Rhaegar gripped his cock and slowly sank his body down on Jon’s. But they were both impatient, already on edge this whole time, and before Jon was even halfway in, Rhaegar threw his head back, body arching, and in one move slid down, until Jon’s cock was all the way in him.

He lost the crown in the process, it fell on Jon’s legs, but Jon couldn’t care less about it now. Obviously, Rhaegar had other ideas, since he stopped, reached back until he found the crown and put it right back on his head. He was moving in the next instant, like nothing happened, Jon’s hands on his hips lifting him up, and Jon was lost.

Lost at the feel of Rhaegar’s body, stretched tightly around his, lost at the feel of Rhaegar’s hands on his chest, pressed there for leverage, lost in the dark purple eyes, staring down at him, lost in the movement of their bodies and lost, every time his eyes caught the blue crown on top of silver hair.

Jon moved one hand to wrap it around Rhaegar’s cock, needing a few tries to match the rhythm, but it seemed a mere minutes before Jon felt Rhaegar tightening around him, murmuring a quick come on come on come on, before Rhaegar’s mouth crashed with his and his world went dark.


Coming back took more time.

Jon slowly became aware of Rhaegar mouthing at his shoulder, soft kisses intercepted with sharp bites. One of Jon’s hands was still trapped between them, the other on Rhaegar’s leg. He mumbled something indecipherable, to which Rhaegar chuckled. He kissed Jon again, before slowly lifting himself up, Jon’s cock slipping out and they both winced.

Before falling back on bed beside Jon, Rhaegar picked a shirt up, halfheartedly cleaning them up, and throwing the thing back on the floor. He was still haft sitting when he looked at Jon, and Jon finally took in his disheveled look, his hair plastered to his clammy skin, and the crown of winter roses askew on his head.

Jon laughed as he stretched to pull it off and set it beside him, before he pulled Rhaegar to him, letting him curl around Jon. The comfortable silence was broken when Rhaegar finally asked.

“You never told me how it looked on me.”

“Perfect, my Prince, it looked just perfect.”