The Path to Freedom


Prologue


"I saw her again. Last night."

They laid in the godswood, beneath the great oak tree. Rhaenyra 's head rested on Alicent's lap, as Alicent turned the pages of her book. It was a lazy day in the Red Keep for the princess and her most dear friend. When the girls saw decades pass, and be hardened by the world and the fight for the Iron Thronen, both thought fondly of these peaceful, boring days.

"Rhaenyra," said Alicent, "this sounds like the dream for an unruly young boy. Not a royal maiden."

Rhaenyra looked up. "How so?"

Alicent sighed and closed her book. "Girls do not have dreams of naked women walking in fire."

"Well I did, am I not a girl?"

Rhaenyra chuckled, amused at Alicents exasperation. The dream was ridiculous, she could admit. But it came so frequently... so vivid...it could not leave her.

Once in a fortnight Rhaenyra would dream, and in her sleep she saw a woman. She was young and petite, with dazzling blue eyes. Her golden hair was twisted in elaborate braids that Rhaenyra could never attempt. The woman stood in a room surrounded by armed men. Rhaenyra could not understand the language spoken, but the threatening tones of voices told her that danger was imminent.

The woman, however, stood unimpressed, and responded to these perceived threats by knocking an oil lamp to the floor. The room, no, the entire building was set ablaze, the men screaming to their deaths. The woman's dress, a sheer white silk, absorbed the flames until the heat reduced it to dust.

What astonished Rhaenyra most of all was that the woman herself did not catch fire. She walked though the flames, untouched, unblemished. She met a crowd of spectators outside, who dropped to their knees in her presence.

Rhaenyra took to calling her the Unburned.

"Dreams are just that, Princess."

Rhaenyra scoffed and closed her eyes. "My father seems to think otherwise. He's tormenting my mothers womb over his recurring dream."

Alicent smiled. "His dream is real, I am certain."

"Oh?" Rhaenyra yawned. "You think Mother will bear a son?"

"No. I will."

Rhaenyra gasped as suddent, searing pain tore through her chest. Her eyes shot open and saw a dagger, plunged to the hilt, staining her dress with her blood.

Alicent still held the dagger.


Rhaenyra awoke with a scream. Her back arched so violently she nearly sat straight up. Her voice gave out and her her throat snapped shut. She rolled onto her hands and knees, clutching her drenched nightgown where the imagined daggar was struck. Beads of sweat dropped to the sheets from her brow, and she became desperate for air.

She heard the door open, and Ser Criston's voice.

"Rhaenyra!?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, unable to catch her breath. She waved a hand at Criston, who nodded and closed the door. Criston approached her, taking a seat at the edge of her bed. He placed his helmet on the ground and waited as Rhaenyra slowly caught her breath.

"The naked lady again?" Criston asked with a sly smile.

Rhaenyra tried to lie, as she always did. She wanted to laugh it off and reassure her knight that all was well. But tonight...tonight she could not pretend anymore.

To both their surprise, Rhaenyra burst into tears. She grabbed her bedsheets and furiously buried her face into them, embarrassed she could not her sobs. She hated crying in front of others. Since her mothers death, Rhaenyra made it a point to save her grief for herself. She would only slip up in the comfort of her dear Alicent.

Rhaenyra slammed her fist into the mattress. She did it again. And again. She only stopped when she felt the leather of Criston's glove touch her forehead. The hand drifted further, gently stroking her hair.

"Rhaenyra," said Criston, "I, ah...I come from very different...more humble beginnings than Mi'Lady. My family doesn't have gold, or towers, or...dragons."

Rhaenyra let out a soft chuckle. Only her family had dragons, silly Criston. Her knight showed the innocence of the outside world that the princess never experienced. She admired his humility, and his way of bringing levity to a difficult situation.

"My family, we have each other. We have love...and loyalty. It's more important to us than any riches in the seven kingdoms. To see you...endure this. I can only imagine the depths of your pain."

Ser Criston, never leave me.

"Ser Criston, Rhaenyra said, "May we go to the sept?"

"At this hour?" Cole grimaced for a moment, then nodded. "I'll let you dress."


They entered the still darkness of the great sept, were greeted with the smell of incense and faint smoke. The small dance of flames on every candle, welcoming the princess as she approached the pew.

Rhaenyra stood for a moment, staring at the candles.

"Do you pray, Ser Criston?"

A pause.

"I do not."

"Me neither," Rhaenyra scoffed, then bent to kneel.

"Alicent brought me when mother died. She thought it would help my grief. She held me."

The small crackling of the burning candles filled the silence.

"You loved her."

Rhaenyra did not answer. The sound of clinking echoed as Criston struggled to his knees.

"It's a bit hard in this armor."

Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head.

Criston said, "I know...I cannot offer the guidance of a mother...nor the comfort of a friend. But I am here for anything you need, Princess. You shouldn't have to carry your pain alone."

Rhaenyra wanted to tell him that it did not matter, because she had always been alone. She was raised in a world of liars and schemers, all fighting for what truly belonged to her. She thought she could always lean on her dearest Alicent, yet Rhaenyra cannot say she was shocked at the betrayal. The Irone Throne tempts all with its power.

In truth, she always felt alone until the day he threw her uncle off his horse, and asked for her favor. From the day Ser Criston entered her life, she no longer felt alone. She could mend her wounds, as long as he was by her side.

Ser Criston, never leave me.

"You do provide comfort, Ser Criston." Rharnrya replied instead, slinking her arm around his in a small embrace. She knocked her head on his arm plate.

"No soft comfort perhaps. But comfort none the less."

Rhaenyra let the steel of his armor cool her cheek as she stared at the the candles, watching the flames flicker and dance. To her, they were like dragons playing in midair. Although she did not pray, Rhaenyra felt the peace of the scenery envelop her, never wanting to leave this moment.

She then noticed something odd among the fire. A shadow? No footsteps were heard, so she knew no one was behind them. She broke her embrace from Criston and leaned forward.

"Princess?"

"I see her."

In the flames, she saw the unburned woman.


"No, we must go back!"

"It's not safe, Mi'Lady!" Ser Harwin shouted as he ran down the hall. In the midst of the chaos, he had thrown Rhaenyra over his shoulder and left the now defunct feast.

"Please, Ser Harwin let me down," Rhaenyra cried, "I cannot leave Ser Criston, please!"

She couldn't leave him.

See Harwin finally slowed to a stop. She heard him sigh and murmur to himself. Finally, he released his hold, allowing Rhaenyra to slide back to her feet. "I will go back and retrieve him. You must hide."

"Don't let them hurt him," begged Rhaenyra.

"Hurry to the godwood. I'll bring him to you there. Stay out of sight." Ser Harwin gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. "Don't fret, Mi'Lady. Everything will be fine."


Rhaenyra was slowly dying.

She could feel her life whither with every step she took. The fearless dragon, the princess who sought freedom, was slowly rotting with every choice. Rhaenyra was fully aware that every decision she had made thus far betrayed her true self.

She could feel the unburned woman mocking her.

Criston tried to save her. He served his duty well. He handed freedom on a platter of gold, and Rhaenyra shattered it as if he held fragile glass.

At the time, it seemed fragile. A useless endevour, escaping her destiny. He was foolish to tempt her, and she was foolish to consider it. However, and in the few, agonizing seconds she lay silent, she buried every burning desire she had to say yes.

She knew Criston stayed faithful. Even in his anger, he stood watch at the wedding feast. He will surely stand silent as she made her marraige vow. After all, vows were useless. All men broke their vows, noble and common alike. She didn't truly believed he cared about such a thing.

But as she danced with her uncle. As Daemon snatched her cheek, pressing his thin, strong fingers into her delicate skin. She saw Criston's face. She saw the look in his eyes.

That's when she learned the cost of playing the game.

As she ran through the dark, empty halls, towards the godswood, she learned a truth. The truth was stronger than any claim she held to the iron throne, stronger than the power her uncle tempted her with.

She could not live in a world without Criston Cole.

I fear what I may become without you by my side. She thought to herself. I'd rather die than live this life without you.

She entered the godswood, and her entire world shattered.