Chapter Fifteen: Criston I
It was the morning after when Criston had truly realised what he had done.
No, no, no.
He quickly scrambled out of the bed where the Princess Rhaenyra also was lying in and rushed to get his smallclothes back on.
The noise of Criston fumbling with his greaves and gauntlets woke the Princess, who sat up in the bed, half clothed.
I mustn't look at her, lest I be reminded of what I did.
"Ser Criston?" she asked, sleepily.
"P-Princess... I-I must..."
"Yes, I understand." She said, giggling.
She laughs? Does she not realise what has happened?
The previous night Criston had saw the Princess enter her room to sleep, and a couple of hours later, she returned down the hallway. What happened after that went by so quickly.
She took my helmet and ran into the room, closing the door after I chased her. I should have stopped the folly right there and then. Why did I continue with it?
After that, the Princess kissed him.
I should have said no. Would she have let me say no?
One thing led to another, and by the time it was too late, Criston had soiled his cloak.
Why did I let my emotions get the better of me?
After Criston had dressed, he quickly left the Princess' bedchambers and made his way to the White Sword Tower, the chambers made for members of the Kingsguard. Though the day was warm, Criston could not stop shivering.
The Seven Hells shall certainly be warmer than today when I eventually go there.
As he walked up the winding staircase of the White Sword Tower, he passed by Ser Rickard Thorne, who nodded at Criston when he passed by. Criston nodded in return, with a strained smile on his face.
Would you still smile at me, Ser Rickard, if you knew what I had done?
On the first floor of the tower, the twins Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk were sat talking about some topic.
No, I cannot go in there. I cannot face my brothers with my soiled cloak.
Criston did not even go to greet his brothers, and instead hurriedly went up to the second floor of the building, where his own quarters were. Still shaking, he went up the stairs and down the hallway and to the chamber on the left that was his own, before he came across Ser Harrold Westerling, his Lord Commander.
Gods, no, please.
"Ser Criston." The Lord Commander said to him.
"L-Lord Commander." Criston replied, his voice still quivering.
"Are you not to be on duty today, Ser Criston?"
Fuck. How could I have forgotten?
"Y-Yes, Lord C-Commander."
"And you are not there because...?" he asked, tilting his head.
"F-Forgive m-me, Lord Commander, I c-came down with a sm-small sickness t-today."
"You should have told me, Ser Criston."
That is not all I have kept from you, Lord Commander.
"M-My mistake, L-Lord Commander, I f-forgot"
"That is no worry, I shall tell Ser Arryk to cover for you. But next time, be sure to remember to say."
I should have also remembered my oaths.
"U-Understood."
Ser Harrold patted him on the shoulder. "Good lad. Now, get yourself some rest."
I should tell the Lord Commander. Tell him of what I did.
But Criston didn't.
He instead went into his quarters and collapsed on his white bed, and sat there for an hour, until the sun was at its zenith. Then he got up, and sat on his bed, and then lied down again. Then he stood up again, staring at the white wall and the white door in front of him. Then he looked at his white armor on the stand, and the white cloak he had neatly placed on the chair by the door.
I am not worthy of the white cloak.
Ser Criston had received his white cloak and white armor six years ago, after being chosen by the Princess herself. Criston still remembered the day, when she fastened his armor onto his body, and placed the white cloak upon his back.
She placed the cloak on me, and then she also removed them.
The day Criston joined the Kingsguard, he had fulfilled his life-long dream. No Cole had ever risen this high in history.
And I threw it all away. And what for? An hour of pleasure? Is that how much my white cloak means to me?
Criston swore his oaths in the royal sept, in front of the King, and the Princess, and the High Septon. But most importantly, before the sight of the Gods.
I swore before the Maiden to keep my chastity, yet I failed at that.
I swore before the Father to protect the King's honour, yet I cannot even protect my own.
I swore before the Warrior to defend the King's family, yet I despoiled his own daughter.
After a while, Criston had mustered up the confidence to exit his quarters and face his brothers.
He headed down to the Common Room and found the Lord Commander there, sharpening his sword. He looked up at Ser Criston and smiled.
"Ah, Ser Criston. I hope your sickness has mellowed now." He said, warmly.
"Y-yes, Lord Commander."
"I know you have forsaken your duties, today, Ser Criston," he said, standing up.
How did he find out?
"S-Ser?"
"You should've told me about your sickness earlier. But as you said, it was a small mistake. Do not fret, please. You seem to be shitting your breeches about it. It is no big matter, Ser Criston, in truth."
That is not why I am shitting my breeches.
"Here, come, sit by me, son." Ser Harrold gestured, as Criston sat across from him, with the White Book in between them. "We all make mistakes, Ser Criston. Some bigger than others. Yours... was barely a mistake. Listen, lad, you should not let this get to you. I know this is the first time you have ever had a small lapse in judgement, I remember when I did too. Ser Ryam Redwyne was furious at me. My crime? I was three minutes late to my post. Do not let the issue get to your head, please. You are a good, no, you are a great knight. Your talent at sword and horse are better than I ever was, and you are over fifty years my younger. Gods, you are almost as talented as Ser Ryam at his best. But you will never be a good Kingsguard if you let your doubts eat you up. Understand, lad?"
I will never be a good Kingsguard if I sleep with fucking princesses!
"Y-yes, Lord Commander. I understand." Criston said, with a small smile.
Would Ser Harrold react in the same way if I told him of my true crimes? No, I'd wager. He would drag me to the King himself, where His Grace would take it off with his sword. That, or he would geld me before sending me to the Wall. Both punishments would be too merciful.
"That is good, boy. I must leave now; I am to attend to my duties. If you do feel better, return to your post outside the Princess' quarters this evening. If you are still poorly, me or Ser Arryk shall stand by her quarters, do not worry." The Lord Commander said, reassuring Criston as he left the Common Room.
After the Lord Commander took his leave, Ser Criston opened the White Book, which he used to love to read, in hopes of it livening his spirits. However, reading the book only served to worsen it. He read about those men that were immeasurably better than him, like the first ever Lord Commander, Ser Corlys Velaryon, or Ser Pate the Woodcock, who bravely served the Old King. But he also read about the men who went against their vows, like Lucamore the Lusty, who married women and sired children, despite swearing to do neither.
Lucamore the Lusty still had more honour than me, he at least married the women before sullying them.
After closing the White Book, the sun was already setting, so Criston decided that he must return to his post. He was still perfectly physically able to do his duties.
I should not run from the duties I currently have. I have already forsaken one vow, and I should not forsake another.
Criston returned to his post, outside of the chambers of the Princess.
He could not bear to be in this place again. Just the sight of it made him sick. The entrance to the room, where he followed the Princess in; the chair, where he placed his cloak before desecrating all over it; and the bed, where he committed the awful act.
He looked at the table, where there was an unfinished meal of capon, green and buttered neeps still there, as well as a fork and a knife, and a half empty glass of wine. Criston was lucky that the Princess was not currently present in her chambers. He dreaded seeing the Princess again, her face was a reminder of the egregious sins that he committed.
His mind went to different things he could do in order to rectify his mistake.
He could run away, and not face the King. But the Seven will know, they always will know.
He could confess, and face the wrath of the King and Blackfyre. But I deserve much worse than to be gelded.
He could not tell anyone of what he had done, and to try and fulfil his other vows. But if I have already forsaken one vow, what is stopping me from forsaking all the others?
There is no way to rectify my mistake. Truly, I am cursed in the eyes of the Gods.
Criston stared silently at the Princess' room, until his gaze slowly drifted to the knife on table.
I know what I must do.