The Path to Freedom
Chapter 2
Criston Cole was never a slow on horseback. His very first lesson as a child began when his father hit the riding crop a bit too hard, which sent the steed taking off. It leaped over the fence and into the dense woods, running for its life. When it stopped to buck and kick, the young Criston held on, the mix of fear and excitement setting him up for a lifetime of adventure.
When the Cole brothers would race their horses, Criston always the victor. However, until tonight he could never replicate that first ride.
As Syrax soared high into the air, Criston held to the horns of the saddle for dear life. The exposed skin of his face was assaulted by the stabbing chill of the night air; it rushed into his lungs forcefully, robbing him of the ability to breathe. His eyes were shut closed, unable to handle to the high altitude.
After a while, Criston accompanied to the new sensation, and opened his eyes to an amazing sight. The princess sat in front of him, unbothered. The ends of her long hair barely touched his face, tickling his cheeks. The clouds sat below, thick enough to resemble the ground of a strange, new land. Above them was the clear night sky, illuminated by the bright full moon.
If Criston had finally caught his breath , it was lost again to the beautiful night. He never thought of the life of a dragon rider - It was exhilarating. How could he return to mere horseback after such an experience?
He wondered how close they were to the stars. He felt tempted to reach out and grab one, were he not cautious of the fall.
Syrax began to descend and he braced himself for the turbulent clouds. When they left the fog, he saw their destination. His jaw tightened, and his gut twisted upon itself.
They had arrived at Dragonstone.
Criston dismounted Syrax, knees buckling as he hit the ground. The wonder of the sky had drained from him, and what remained was vertigo. His mind swam in the fog and his chest heaved as he began to retch.
Don't vomit in front of the princess.
He felt a tender hand on his shoulder and Rhaenyra's voice in his ear.
"Stay down. Don't try to get up just yet."
When the buzzing died down and Criston felt his strength regain, he slowly stood back up. Rhaenyra draped his arm over her and walked him slowly up the steps.
"Happens to every first time rider," she said, "I promise it doesn't last."
"Rhae-" Criston sputtered out before he launched another coughing fit.
"Rhae..." she mused, "I haven't heard that name since I was a little girl. My mother called me that. Father too, before she passed."
They finally reached the top of the steps, and she guided him down to sit. Criston buried his face in his hands and took several deep breaths, thankful for the respite.
He did not want Daemon to view him in such a state.
"Did you have a short name when you were a child, Ser Criston?"
Criston mused. "Not one fit to escape the lips of a lady. But I did go by my surname." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Actually, I was not addressed as anything other than Cole before I entered King's Landing."
Rhaenyra placed a hand on his thigh. "I like Cole."
Cole smiled. "I like Rhae."
They sat together in still silence, like they had many years before. For a moment they could forget everything, as if it were a normal eve. Rhaenyra leaned against her shoulder and drew a deep sigh.
"Why did you do try to take your own life?"
Criston's head was still swimming, and the last thing he wanted to discuss was the previous hours. However, he did have questions of his own.
"Why did you stop me?"
Rhaenyra looked horrified. "How can I live without my white knight? My sworn shield?"
"You would manage. You'd have your husband"
She spun her body around towards him, dropping to her knees. She took his face in her hands and guided his head up to face her.
This was a strange feeling. The princess holding him.
"Criston," said Rhaenyra, "I have spent so long with you by my side. I never considered of a life without you."
"Rhaenyra-"
"How can a political marraige replace you? How do you not see your importance to me?"
Criston continued, "Princess. Being at your side as your sworn shield is the greatest honor I could ever have."
She stared into his eyes, listening.
"But I can't spend the rest of my life watching you pretend to love another."
She shook her head as tears softly fell. She trailed her thumb along his bottom lip. Her shoulders began to shake.
"You're shivering." He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her.
"Ser Criston," said Rheyneyra. "There's something you must know...about the extent of my duty."
He watched her hand dip out of the cloth and reach for the dagger on her thigh. She ran her her fingers along the gold plating of the scabbard, stopping at the hilt. She ran a thumb across the bright, shimmering ruby.
They were starteled by the sudden sound of creaking. Both rushed to stand and turned to watch the doors swing open. They were met by two Golden Cloak guards, trailed by Daemon Targaryen. He walked with a sly saunter, and though his head stayed down, Criston could immediately spot the grin across his lips.
Fuck.
Daemon stopped, looked up, and raised his hands to them.
"Welcome home, Princess."
They entered the grand hall of Dragonstone castle, and Daemon walked ahead to take his seat on the throne. Rhaenyra's throne. He sat casually with his legs crossed over each other, chin resting on his hand. He eyed both Criston and Rhaenyra from top to bottom, that shit eating grin never leaving him.
Daemon instilled a mixture of disgust and fear in Criston. The memory of the city watch terrorizing the city years ago felt all to real in present time as he stared Daemon down. The prince's unpredictablity and penchant for violence made him the most dangerous figure in the court, even when away.
He glanced at Rhaenyra, who showed no disdain towards him. Rather, she wore an impish smirk of her own.
"Hm, you've seem to make yourself more at home than I have." Rhaenyra teased.
Her demeanor left Criston unsettled. Was there something sinful between these two? Other families, Dornish included, looked upon Targaryen incest as sick and wicked. His father warned him of such before his journey to King's Landing. Criston had always believed it to be an arrangement to keep the Targaryen line intact.
That was, until he saw them dancing at the feast.
Was Criston wrong? Was Rhaenyra truly in love with him?
Daemon inturrupted Criston's thoughts. "Well, I'm glad to see you well no less, and you brought the queenslayer as well!"
The what.
Rhaenyra wore confusion. "The...what?"
"Well, what with the two of you disappearing without a word, blood in the godsend and a bloodied cloak..."
Rhae glanced at her bandaged hand as Daemon continued,
"There's talk that in his despair, Sir Crispin killed the princess and threw himself off the wall. While the "elopement" story is more predictable, the former did come up with a clever name for you."
Rhaenyra threw her arms up in disgust. "It's barely morning! How does gossip travel this fast?"
"The ravens are fast, my niece," said Daemon, "Although I prefer queer-slayer, that parts a bit more truthful."
Criston felt rage grow in his heart, expanding throughout his body. It's heat and impulsive violence seeped into his limbs, instructing them to move. He felt Rhaenyra's hand on his chest.
"Criston, no."
He listened.
Rhaenyra turned back to Daemon. "Enough tormenting my sworn shield, Uncle. Tonight is the fault of mine and mine alone. I will write to my betrothed and apologize for the indignities he suffered tonight."
Daemon shrugged. "What do I care? Like you, I always found these royal duties...stifling. Forget the wedding, your father and the dead paramour for tonight. Get some rest. The bed chambers are ready for the two of you, and a bath is being drawn as we speak."
"You knew we were coming." Criston spat out thoughtlessly.
Daemon raised an eyebrow. "A simple guess. I was right, was I not?"
"Thank you, Uncle," said Rhaenyra, "If you don't mind, I'm quite tired."
"Of course. Does your knight need a cot outside the door?"
"I--"
"No, thank you Uncle," Rhaenyra said as she grabbed Criston's hand, "We will share. Thank you!"
Criston heard Daemon's indignant laugh as they left.
Criston was furious. Furious that he was in Dragonstone. Furious that he was taking refuge under the arrogant Prince Daemon. Furious that along with whispers of Ser Criston Cole being the heir's whore, he was now the heir's murderer.
Furious that Rhaenyra, again, made him a fool.
He kept his eyes fixed ahead as they walked down the hall and entered the bed chamber. The room was decorated in typical Targaryen fashion - dark, macabre, flagrant. The bed was dressed with linen of black and red, the walls adorned in tapestries and paintings. All depicting bodies in various stages of sexual indecency.
Criston rolled his eyes.
The bathing chamber was just as large and extravagant. The tub, unlike anything he had seen, was built into the white marble floor. The crevice nearly filled the whole room, and seemed large enough to hold several people.
As Daemon promised, the bath was already prepared, cloths and bedclothes folded bear the door. Along the black painted walls were iron shelves decorated with oils and herbs. Only candles on the floor kept the room lit.
A far cry from the barrels he was used to.
Rhaenyra tried and failed to get his attention with her quick glances. Criston refused to eye her as they undressed. When he entered the sunken tub, Criston sat as far he could. Rhaenyra took several bottles from the shelves and sat them down as she joined him.
"You're angry."
Silence.
She raises her arms to her head, lathering her hair in the cleansing oils. Her breasts sat just above the water, bobbing in and out as her chest slightly turned. Criston felt his mouth dry, and he looked away to shut out his thoughts.
"At least tell me why."
He studied the delicate molding of the ceiling, the twisting of the rods on the iron shelf, anything other than the beads of sweat and oil adorning her delicate skin. He bit his cheek to wake back up, to avoid the rush of blood urging him to take her breasts into his mouth.
"Criston!"
Criston snapped back to reality. "Why what?"
Rhaenyra was exasperated. "Why are you angry?"
Criston sighed. His animosity for Daemon cooled the blood in his veins, and he was able to gather his thoughts. He mulled for a bit and finally spoke.
"I have neices. They're still...children. The simple idea of seducing my neices is..."
Rhaenyra dipped her head in the water, and raised back up, cleansing her hair.
"Beyond that," he continued, "I fear he manipulates you to use you. I worry..."
I worry that you will turn into him.
"Can I wash your hair?"
"What?" Criston was stunned.
She pointed an index finger and curled it deviously, inching him to come closer.
"Ah, sure."
He shifted closer to her, feeling a twist in his stomach. She sat herself up at the edge of the tub, opening her legs to allow him in.
His breath hitched as he grew unnerved. This was the closest they had been since the night he shared her bed. The fallout left him afraid to open up to her again.
Rhaenyra, oblivious, guided his hair under the water and up to surface. She pulled his back to the wall of the tub, and draping her legs over his shoulders.
Lavender and gooseberry filled the steamy air as she massaged Criston's scalp. "Ah.." a moan escaped him and his cheeks turned hot.
"Your hair," said Rhaenyra, "is so beautiful and thick."
He didn't know what to say, unused to compliments and concern. So he kept silent.
"Commen men aren't pampered like this, are they?"
"Oh no." Criston leaned against her inner thigh. He finally began to relax. "We're lucky if the water is tepid."
"Hm." She traveled her hands down to the back of his neck. She applied pressure with her fingers, rubbing back and forth. His spine tingled as Rhaenyra continued down his shoulders, paying attention to the knots in his muscle.
"You're so tense." Rhaenyra's voice sent shockwaves down his body, igniting his nerves.
She slipped into the water as Criston rocked his head back to rinse. When he resurfaced, she was now against the wall. She guided him to her chest, arms encircling head, fingers in his hair. He leaned against her breasts, tongue trailing against her skin.
"Let me take care of you, Ser Criston."
Rhaenyra kissed his forehead, temple, jawline, slowly until she meets his lips. He learned in, her softness setting him ablaze. Criston drank her in, flustered when she left and trailed down his neck, the dip of his collar, kissing every inch. She dipped her tongue from time to time to tease.
"Hm," said Criston, "You were going to tell me something earlier."
"Not important." Rhaenyra quipped, continuing her assault. She slowly ran her nimble fingers along his thigh.
"Sounded important."
She stopped. "You're stalling, Ser Criston."
Rhaenyra looked back up at him, studying his eyes. She met his gaze and leaned her forehead against his. Criston slinked an arm around her, drawing her to his lap and closing his eyes.
"I'm sorry." Rhaenyra whispered.
He opened his eyes. "For what?"
"For...neglecting your feelings. I'm not like you. It isn't easy for me to speak from the heart. "
Of course not, Criston replied to himself, shocked as he began to realize. Any noblewoman, let alone a princess, did not have the agency to do so. Criston at last began to understand why she wouldn't leave. And the reality of the situation was striking them like an executioners blade.
Criston chose to be selfish for one last time.
"Can you perhaps...speak to me from the heart tonight?"
He tightened his embrace holding her close to his chest. She was quiet for a minute, her body tense. He let the silence fill them and felt her muscles relax, one by one. Criston felt her finally trust him.
"I love you. I...need you. And I'm afraid...that I can't protect you."
Criston he cupped her face, lips pressed against hers. The passion from that first night returned to him, like an old friend. It was home to him, this feeling. The indescribable need to have her and to hold her, in any way possible.
"Let me protect you, Rhae."
Criston knew that in his weakness he had failed her. His own desires as a man had overrode his judgement. He would die for her, but to put her life at risk was something he could not forgive.
He acquiesced. "We can go back--"
"No." Rhaenyra kept her hands pressed against his temples. "They'll take you from me," Her blue eyes stared into his. She welled up again. "Don't ever leave me."
"I won't," Criston swore as he kissed her again. Her body relaxed against his, melting into him, her body submitting to his control. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing his hard cock against her.
He could feel her release. She unchained her own armor, finally dropping her guard. Passion overwhelmed him, burning desire in his veins, as he felt her body beg for him.
And just as fast as she caved, Rhaenyra rose back up to the challenge. He felt her body tense up as the armor she shed came right back on.
She pulled away from him with an impish grin, lifting her self back up to her perch on the edge. She spread her legs.
He chuckled. "What happened to pampering me?"
"My hands hurt. I need a break."
Criston shook his head and gave in. Starting at her knees, he trailed her soft skin with his lips. His ran along her thigh, nipping at the delicate skin. He felt her fingers run through his hair as he drew closer to her heat.
He moved her to lay back, pressing her legs against her chest as he dove into her. He felt every part of her body jerk, and with each twitch a sweet moan escaped her lips. He wouldn't stop as her voice grew louder, the need for her to cry out his name overwhelming him. He imbibed on her lips, tasting her essence on every fold of her skin. Criston slipped a finger inside of her and pressed foward, sending her into a frenzy. Rhaenyra back arched as she screamed in ecstasy and came for him. He slipped his fingers out and drank in all she gave him.
Then, as she were reciting a book, she said, breathlessly, "What is honor...compared to a woman's love?"
"Hm?"
Rhaenyra sat up to meet him, both still drunk in lust. When she leaned forward, Cole slipped the offending digits in her mouth, letting the princess taste herself. She moaned as she ran her tongue along the rough skin, sucking them slowly.
Cole slipped his fingers out, replacing them with his lips
"Isn't the love from my heart enough?" said Rhaenyra in between kisses. "What is the purpose of a title."
Criston nipped at her lips. "I want you as mine. Mine alone."
"Ah. So that's what is was."
She sat back up and shook her head at his smirk.
"Jealousy isn't very honorable, Ser Criston."
Criston grabbed her legs and hoisted her back into the tub. He pressed her against the edge, towering over her. Her body trembled as he slid inside of her, nearly crumbling over her moist heat. She cried out with every move, her muscles clenching him. Cole tried to remain focused, every part of himself begging for release.
But he wasn't giving in this time.
"Let's say I agreed, Princess," he whispered, "Do I get whores of my own?"
"No," Rhaenyra moaned against him.
"No?" Criston said in between a kiss. "Why won't you share me?"
"Absolutely not." Rhaenyra objected. She squeezed her legs around his hips, and he groaned as he slid deeper into her.
"You are mine."
"Hm," said Cole, "Doesn't seem fair does it?"
He suddenly pulled out, leaving her flustered in the tub. He left the tub and took a towel to dry, ignoring his painful erection. He took a second towel and tossed it at Rhaenyra. He snickered as it hit her in the face.
Cole had just dressed into the black silk pants left for him, when Rhaenyra stormed into the room. She had snatched the robe, also black silk, and shot a dirty look as she tied it around her waist.
"You're so cruel, Ser Criston!"
Rhaenyra flopped onto the bed, arms outstretched like a cat. One eye opened, watching him climb over her. He pulled at the sash of her robe and pushed the fabric, exposing her completely. Her lips parted into a gasp as he slid two fingers inside.
"You're not sleeping tonight, Princess."
