Chapter Seven

Prince Rhaegar

As he sat huddled in a corner of his room, the flame of a candle flickering above him, he smiled as he moved onto another verse of the Great Bard's finest sonnets. "Such a fascinating style and an intriguing rhyming scheme. My songs don't even come close to the scope of this. Entire battles and wars of the first men, inscribed down when there no Maesters to do it for them." He turned the page over and realised the wax of the candle was about to go out. Right before it reached the end of its tenure. He cast a gaze up to see the last of the leaping flames disappear from view as the endless and enveloping darkness gathered around him. He sighed in despair as he oved up to try and find a new stick of wax to continue reading. It was a whole new world he could escape to; merriment, beautiful maidens and gallant Knights. Fearsome battles and righteous justice. It was one of his favourite pastimes and one of his natural escapes. "It's an escape I need, especially when…Father." He had almost winced there to remember the day Father had lost his mind and overreacted, putting it mildly. The flames had almost kissed his own hair.

He found it especially hard to navigate around his chambers with no way to see, but what other choice did he have? He was forced to keep his curtains drawn whenever he pulled a book out. It was better to be safe than sorry when spiders were in the walls, though it was especially hard to find his way around the chamber. Fortunately, he found the drawer, but as luck would have it; it was entirely empty. He knew the staff would refill the wax drawer later, but they dare not enter his room now. "Well, it looks like it might be a nice day outside…" he thought hopefully. He drew back the curtains and let the sun of the falling summer embrace his chambers with its glow.

It took only a moment to stride across the room and make his way out of it. He wore a tunic with the colours of his house emblazoned upon it. "Red on black. Careful not to get that mixed up." He thought to himself cheerily, as he reached for the top dragon's head clasp connecting his pitch black doublet across his body. He then realised that he was unsure as to what he should do. "Well, Court is done for today so Lord Tywin will be in his study. Ser Willem will be in the yard. I wonder if Mother is in the Godswood today. She's been spending a lot of time there lately, and she hasn't looked the same in weeks." He thought sadly to himself as he moved out of the way of a castle maid, muttering apologies.

If he focused hard enough, his lady mother could appear more and more beautiful each time he was her but was all too aware that the delusion was false. Up until his fifth nameday, he had believed his mother was wonderful with her shining smiles and violet eyes. Though after that, he faltered in his belief of that. "Had she always been that way or did Father only gain his cravings then?" he pondered to himself as he remembered her looks of distant wonder. Specifically to the cliffs that sat at the edge of the Gardens. She understood grief better than his Father did, and they shared sadness together, from time to time, lifting the burden from one another. Mother always overcame her grievances, her melancholy, she always came out stronger than ever. Though he did not fail to notice that her smiles had been ever receding since her last miscarriage.

"Father has always been the opposite to that effect," he thought to himself as his royal father's cold purple eyes looked upon him with naught but scorn. He had always tried to distance himself from some of the more influential figures from the history of his house, to avoid his father's ire. The Conqueror, the Cruel, the Young Dragon, the Dragonknight, the Anvil. His forefathers and those to whom he owed his legacy. Great warriors, strong and fierce men. "Everything you are not," a voice that sounded eerily like Father's iron scrapings whispered to him. Though, he could take heart at the others; The Conciliator, The Good, the Blessed. But alas, they were far too few to make the case for himself. He knew who he was, the prophecy was clear enough in that. The promised prince would be born from the line of the dragon, and a bleeding star would herald his coming. All the signs pointed to him, or his line at the very least. How to-

"My Prince, are you quite alright?" a voice piped up and he looked up to see the Lord Commander of the City Watch.

"Yes, fine." He responded happily, yet brusquely, as the Commander went on his way and Rhaegar did the same. This was something that was happening more often now, he would trail off directionless and most interpreted it to mean that he was distant and far off. They were wrong about him on that count at least. He was sharper than they gave him credit for and if they knew they wouldn't dare jest about his reading. It was something else he had to put up with, when Father's ever watchful gaze was not focused on him, the pages and squires around him mocked his habits. At least, when they weren't around to petition his 'royal favour.'

"No," he eventually decided, "I shouldn't go to mother now. Perhaps there is something interesting down in the lower levels today?" He made his way through the halls of the Red Keep, taking the time to consider how confusing they might be for someone who was not accustomed to them but Rhaegar had spent most of his childhood traversing through them, even finding a few of the secret passages built by King Maegor, kept secret by him and forgotten by his respective successors. He made his way through several corridors to one such attraction, a wall with a candlestick imprinted with a two headed dragon. He had thought it odd the first time he had observed it but when he ran his finger across the top of it, he felt a switch. When he flicked it, a wall panel had opened near the left of it. Now it felt as regular and rudimentary as any task he was able to set his mind to.

The stone walkway was beginning to fall apart showing the natural rock that they were built on. He knew how to dance his way around the traps and pits that were dotted around the corridor, which were surprisingly active for being over three hundred and fifty years old. Though, Rhaegar doubted his predecessor was like to take any chances with his own safety. He continued to move along down this path and eventually came to one of the huge caverns that made up the underworld beneath kings landing, above him the faint and distant sounds of the city reigned above him.

He made his way down the natural stepping stones in order to make his way across the lake with no real intent or purpose behind it. He almost fell into the unending waters but was quickly able to manoeuvre his way across once again. He held no ambitions about falling into those never ending depths; he could have sworn to the Gods he once heard something moving down there. Eventually, he came to the end of that section and climbed up once again to the more familiar sight of the stone hallways that were formed by the hand of man.

Once again he traversed the seemingly endless walkway, going through the dark hall illuminated only by little pores coming from the ceiling. At the end, he pulled another handle back to find where he was. He did not recognise the place, but he could have guessed where it was. Not that far from where he had entered, if it was one of the great immeasurable number of empty cellars beneath the Red Keep. Nothing in this one but a sandy floor, but he skipped across it quickly enough before he left the room and tried to establish his location.

The hallway showered with growling dragons heads gave Rhaegar the impression that he was somewhere beneath the traitors walk, just across from the entrance to the dungeons. He continued to stroll through the hallway illuminated by dim torches. As he continued through the path he thought he heard his own voice become echoed back at him, he stopped to pause but then realised he could hear the voice of another someway long the hall. He pursued this path further and continued to try and find his voice, curious as to who could be this far in the complex of his father's castle.

Fear crept up on him as he glided across the hallway to hide behind a pillar covered with depictions of vines and weeds. Moments later, the white flash came blasting past him and he couldn't believe his eyes. A great beast that almost went to Rhaegar's knees, white of fur and blood in its orange eyes. It prowled along the corridor but barely seemed to acknowledge Rhaegar at all, he put his nose to the floor and started to sniff along the skirting boards for some purpose unknown to him. Eventually, the voice seemed to return to the hallways calling something he could only have presumed was the animal's name. What he now deduced must have been a legendary Pendric Lion continued to sniff along the bottom of the wall, Prince Rhaegar couldn't do anything but move against the wall for fear the beast would sense him. Eventually, the voice became much clearer. "Daemon! Here, to me!" the voice called before coming around the corner, passing Rhaegar by and moving towards the lion.

"Daemon, to me!" he exclaimed as he moved to pull the beast back from the wall. Within its mouth was an object unseen but the figure commanded the brute to drop it. As Rhaegar looked on the scene, he looked at him property. He could see he had straight and short golden hair accompanied with hazel eyes that sung of a deeper song. When the world is left to wonder, Beauty leaves me with such emotions to ponder-

"Damnit, I have to stop doing that!" he scolded himself. Still out of view, the figure he determined must have been Ser Gerold's new squire and Lord Tywin's bastard. Arlon, or some such western name. He addressed the lion again. "Daemon, let it go. Now." He commanded but the lion cocked its head in response to its masters' demands. "Now." He repeated but it simply looked up at him with something of pity in his eyes. Hill looked down at the beast before breaking his composure and smiling. "Go on." He admitted, "You've been chasing that mouse all over the Red Keep." Then he swallowed as they turned back and for the first time, their eyes locked. Deep hazel and dark indigo. "Oh, hello." Was the first words that came out of his mouth, with the fur of the lion beneath the fingers of his right hand. "I didn't see you there. What are you doing so far down in the nadirs?"

"I might have asked you the same question." He responded, moving out from the wall

"This one has been chasing a mouse all over the castle since the break of dawn."

"To what end?" Rhaegar inquired of him.

"He's hungry, how should I know?" he laughed to his own solitude.

"He looks like he's ate enough by now." He smiled sadly, out of habit rather than force. He moved his hand towards the lion's head and for a moment, the Prince thought he might have snapped at him but it licked his fingers and rested his mane in his hand.

"I can see he likes you, and I trust his judgement."

"You trust an animal's instincts?"

"They say beasts have sharper senses than most men."

"True enough….. Forgive me, I didn't catch your name?"

"Arraon Hill." He responded, extending his hand. "A bastard for sure." Rhaegar thought to himself.

"Prince-" he began, accepting the offer, but was just as suddenly cut off.

"Rhaegar Targaryen?" he finished for him, to Rhaegar's immense surprise.

"Well, it wasn't exactly hard to figure out." He smiled.

"What gave me away?"

"Forgive me, your grace, but it's not exactly hard to figure out." He offered, with a kind laugh and a smile.

"Fair enough." He conceded.

"You never said what you were doing down here exactly?" Arraon asked.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I would say so, Your Grace. Without just cause and reason for our actions, we become little more than mindless and barbaric savages."

"Very profound." Rhaegar observed as the two of them began to walk away.

"I heard it from my father, the Lord Hand."

"I'm seen him at court from time by time." Rhaegar responded but silently realised that by 'time to time' he meant almost every day court was held as his own sire was rarely seated upon the Iron Throne.

"At court? Truly, how does my father do?"

"He rules more effectively than my father for a certainty." Hill looked as if he was taken aback. "Is something wrong?"

"I've never heard someone renounce their own father so," he searched for the appropriate word "readily."

"You don't know the King." He murmured, but beneath his hand the lion whined and licked at his fingers again. The eyes looked less blood hungry now and more were more filled with passion and protectiveness. "He's very approachable." He observed.

"Not usually, he keeps to me but he seems to like you."

"Would you have any idea why?" Rhaegar asked.

"It's like I said; they have sharper instincts." Was his response.

"Well how long have you had him for?"

"Ah, I must have been…eight? Almost three years then."

"He's one-and-ten and I am three-and-ten, yet he is clearly the elder of us." Rhaegar observed to himself silently. "And you would still trust him?"

"With my life, besides I wouldn't need to know that from Daemon. You seem pleasant enough to me anyway." He shrugged hazily.

For some reason, that took Rhaegar aback. He had been used to Knights and courtiers praising his virtues and requesting favours over the past ten years but when Arraon said those words they seemed more honest and trustworthy. "They say bastards are born from lust and lies, do they grow up more honest as a result?"

"Thank you."

"What for?" he asked surprised and seemingly confused, Rhaegar placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Honesty." He replied as he moved away. "Tomorrow, court will commence at midday and I would like you to be there."

"As…" he asked.

"One of my 'court companions."

"Among others?"

"Not many, a few sons of my father's friends, although it's usually just me and Jon."

"I will consider it before the morn."

"Thank you, Arraon. Oh, just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"You will have to leave your pet behind." That made him much more defensive.

"Where Daemon goes; I go." He responded, unyielding and without any sense of withdrawal.

"Daemon? May I ask why you chose that name above all others?"

"You may if you're alright with me not giving you an answer. Not yet at least."

"Very well." He conceded. "I will look for you in the Throne Room."

"As you wish, Your Grace." He bowed before he turned to leave in the opposite direction. Rhaegar went the opposite way, feeling a peculiar sense of curiosity and satisfaction. For whatever reason, he found himself strangely interested in Arraon Hill of Casterly Rock.