Chapter 4
A Song of Ice and Fire.
The words spun through Rhaenyra's mind on an endless loop as she laid on with Criston, his soft snoring echoing throughout their bed chambers. She ran her fingers along his chest mindlessly, soothed by the softness of his skin.
What was the song, she wondered. Was it a battle cry? Was it a love song ? Or was it a mournful ballad decrying the end of days. So many questions left unanswered, Rhaenyra found it impossible that she was the first in a generation if Targaryen heirs to even question the meaning of it all.
What if it was all a ruse? A falsehood implanted by Aegon the Conqueror to ensure that his descendants would keep the iron throne in their name. A rational being would consider that an obvious answer.
Her father was ever the dreamer.
Viserys never questioned his visions, rather he took them as they appeared. He saw an infant son with a crown and believed in it so much he sacrificed his own wife, Rhaenyra's mother, to achieve it. Rhaenyra knew without a doubt Viserys truly believed that a prince who was promised existed, and that prince would be a Targaryen.
Rhaenyra was not a dreamer, nor was she one who could sit idly by and wait for destiny to happen. A prophecy such as this needed answers. If no heir before her thought to investigate it, she could not ensure that the future heirs would either.
The fire of it was obvious -- it concerned a Targaryen. Fire and blood. But what of ice? What did it have to do with the ominous words of House Stark?
Rhaenyra knew that House Stark was the first place to go for an answer.
A gentle touch on her hands brought her back, her head moved with Criston's chest as he took in a deep yawn.
"You're brooding again, Princess." murmured Criston.
Rhaenyra laced her fingers with his, the warmth of his body giving her the only comfort she had known since her mother was alive. In this moment, with him, she felt safe. No, it was always with him, that she felt safe and secure.
Criston made her feel the opposite of Daemon -- Daemon made her feel powerful, yes, but there was a feeling of intimidation with him. Meddling with Daemon was like an intense game of chess, where she was always spinning her head trying to outmatch him.
With Criston, she could just be herself. Good old young, brash, innocent Rhaenyra. She could be Rhae.
"You don't have to keep addressing me as Princess, Ser Criston."
"Apologies. Force of habit...Rhae."
Rhaenyra looked up at him, smiling at his cheeky grin. He touched his lips to her forehead and countered, "You don't have to address me as Ser Criston."
"Alright, my love." Rhaeneya smirked and they both broke into a small fit of laughter. The kind of laughter you share with one in brand new love - the type of love that was lifht. That promises more than what Rhaenyra has dreamed of.
A cherishing, yet fleeting, moment.
"What's the matter?"
Besides everything, thought Rhaenyra. She rested back on his chest and said, "If you and I are to solve this prophecy, we must go to Winterfell."
"Ah, brilliant," said Criston, "however there is a small problem. You and I are currently fugitives."
"Actually, you're the fugitive."
Criston chuckled. "Didn't you kidnap me? It was your idea to leave."
"It was," Rhaenyra acquiesced. "And I'm sure this is the first place that Father will come looking, so I believe an exit plan is in order quite soon."
Criston mused. "It's cold in the north."
"So I've heard."
"Very cold."
Rhaenyra grimaced. She hated the cold. She wanted nothing more to spend her days basking in the sunshine, the warmth of a summer day tanning her fair skin.
"Essos is quite warm." Criston said.
"Hm, is it now?" Rhaeneya teased.
"You tell me, you clearly know more regarding that land than I do."
Rhaeneya sat up, pulling the blankets to her chest to keep warm. "What do you mean?"
He raised his arms and laid his hands behind his head. "Tell me about Asshai."
"Ah yes," Rhaeneya teased, "The home of oranges and cinnamon."
Criston scoffed. "It sounded better in my head, I'd hate to admit."
"No! It was good. I just..."
Rhaenyra went back to that day on the ship. Criston's eyes, full of hope and promise, as he promised her a life she had always dreamed of. Adventure, traveling, reckless abandon. She turned from him, and felt every fiber in her being begging her to say yes. She closed her eyes, she pursed her lips. She spun the gold ring in her finger, the one with the sigil of House Targaryen. The ring told her the truth - she could not abandon her duty.
Or did the ring tell her she could not abandon her chance of power? Even today, Rhaenyra didn't know. Regardless, she betrayed herself and lied to Criston. The light in his eyes dimming and crumbling before her was the hardest thing she had ever witnessed.
Even now, she wondered if he recovered.
Criston sat up and embraced her, tracing his finger along her cheek. "Come now, we don't have to discuss the past any longer."
Rhaenyra's eyes met his. "Sunspear is quite far on Dragonback, Criston. Let alone Asshai."
"Maybe the King of the Narrow Sea can lend us a ship?"
———
Criston and Rhaenyra stood in the grand throne room, Daemon sitting idly on the throne he had stolen. The sun was out this time, slowly sinking with the wanting hours of the day. It was the only difference between this and the scene two days ago, when they had first arrived. Rhaeneya, making grand gestures and pleas, and Daemon looking boreded shitless.
Criston felt himself growing as irate as he was that first night.
"Hm, a grand idea my dear niece," said Daemon, "but unfortunately the Stepstones are mine no longer."
Rhaenyra and Criston both looked at him, stunned.
"What?"
"You've spent my entire life carrying on over the iron throne," chastised Rhaenyra, "When you could barely hold on to a couple of islands? Would you have lost the Seven Kingdoms as well?"
Daemon's expression turned sharp, and Criston suddenly felt their welcome being brought to an end. He jumped from the Dragonstone throne, driving Criston's hand to the hilt of his sword.
He itched for a reason to kill the prince.
Daemon suddenly stopped, and a wary smirk adorned his face. "Why not Dorne?"
Criston stiffened.
"Pardon?" Rhaenyra asked.
Daemon shrugged. "The homeland of your dearly beloved. Why not? I'm sure the Dornish will just adore you."
Rhaenyra shook her head as she grabbed Criston by the wrist and stormed out of the castle.
"That was on purpose." Criston seethed.
"Ignore him," said Rhaenyra, "He is just being a prick."
"Happy travels!" Daemon shouted.
The sun had set when they left the castle, and Criston turned one last time to view the dusky gray sky cast over Dragonstone. He shuddered, thinking that this truly was a dreadful place. A perfect fit for a dark soul such as Daemon.
As they walked along the winding stone steps, a great shadow was cast over the two. A shrill roar filled the evening sky, and he looked up to see the flight of Rhaenyra's dragon.
Criston was brought back to his first day at Dragonstone, when they were last on the cusp of war with Daemon. Just like on that day, Syrax gracefully landed on the bridge, claws gripped against each end. She let out a great roar, and Criston swore he felt the stones of the small bridge shake.
Syrax lowered her head as Rhaenyra approached her and spoke softly in her ancestral tongue. The princess turned to Criston and said, "She could feel our first ride was necessary...but she won't let you mount her a second time without proper introduction."
"Dragon etiquette," Criston asked dryly.
Rhaenyra smirked. "You could say that. Come closer."
Criston hesitated. "And should she decide I cannot ride a second time?"
Rhaenyra mused for a moment, still stroking Syrax's snout. "Hm...She'll most likely burn and eat you. Although I made sure she was fed today...perhaps just bite your head off."
"Gods." Criston groaned.
"Fear will make it more likely. Come, now."
Criston approached slowly, carefully. Syrax reared back at first, bearing her teeth. Rhaenyra soothed her with Valyrian words, and she lowered her head again, neck outstretched as she examined Criston. He could feel her breath against his face, the heat made the summers in the Dornish deserts seem chilly.
Fear paralyzed him, yet he swallowed it and remain still. The terror was at odds with the awe and amazement Criston held for such a beast. He had never encountered something so majestic, fearsome. It was like meeting a god.
She sniffed him for a just a moment, but to him it felt like ages. Finally, she laid her head on the stone ground. Criston looked at Rhaenyra, unsure of what to do.
"Touch her, before she takes it as disrespect."
Criston again forced his hesitation down before the dragon grew impatient. He placed a hand on her forehead, the smooth scales were unnaturally cool under his touch.
A great roar from behind spooked Criston, and he immediately jumped to the ground. Above them was Daemon's red dragon flying overhead, screeching. Syrax looked up upon it an unleashed a great roar of her own. She covered Criston with a great wing, shaking her head violently.
Rhaenyra crouched and crawled under Syrax's wing to check on Criston.
"She likes you!" Rhaeneya exclaimed. "Now we can go."
"Can we, now?!" Criston asked in shock.
"Don't mind Caraxys. Like my uncle, he's mostly bark."
Criston took several deep breaths to bring his heart out of his throat back to his chest. There were many things in Rhaenyra's world that he did not understand. Dragon etiquette was a one of them.
———
Of course, by Dorne, the asshole prince meant Castle Blackhaven. A dark, dreary site Criston hasn't seen since leaving the marches.
Syrax stayed along the Narrow Sea to avoid potential watchers of Kings Landing. The trip to Blackhaven would take twice the time of the flight to Dragonstone. Criston surmised that travel would be a total of two days, forcing them to make camp.
They made it to the Rainwood by sunrise. Rhaenyra released Syrax to rest and hunt, and followed Criston into the forest. It was not long before they found a cave large enough for the both of them. Criston unbuckled the borrowed white cloak and layed it across the ground, smoothing out the wrinkles. It wasn't a queen's chamber by any means, but it would have to do.
"Get some rest, Princess."
Rhaenyra fought her obvious fatigue and looked at Criston with concern. "What about you? You're still sick from the flight."
"I'll be fine." Criston said in truth. He went days without sleep when fighting in the marches. A day on Dragonback was nothing to him.
Well, not nothing since he was still queasy.
Rhaenyra acquiesced, wrapping herself in the cloak and using Criston's lap as a pillow. He looked at the entérense to the cave, ears open for any sound of movement. The stillness in the daylight, the birds singing, the rustling of the leaves in the trees, inevitability sent him drifting off to sleep. He awoke with a startle, Rhaenyra staring at him.
"Your turn," said Rhaenyra, patting the floor. "I'll just wake you up if I see anything."
They switched positions and fatigue overtook Criston as he rested his head on her lap. The soft warmth of the fabric over her thighs, and the feeling of her fingers through his hair, soothed him into beautiful dreams.
———
Criston advised against camping in the Marches, and they made the decision to fly straight to Blackhaven in the daylight. By the time sundown hit, they reached the castle.
Will Cole met them at the gate with a look of confusion, concern, and reverence.
"Do my eyes deceive me," said Will, "or has the Mother gifted me with the sight of my own son with the Princess of Dragonstone?"
Rhaenyra offered her hand. "Rhaenyra Targaryen. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Will accepted, bending the knee and kissed her hand. "Will Cole. It is an honor to meet you."
Rhaenyra beckoned Will to rise. "You seem to have expected us?"
Will nodded. "Our guards received word of a dragon from the outer guard. We had few time to prepare, regretfully. I hadn't received news of your plan to visit."
"Not your fault, completely unplanned," Rhaenyra said quickly, "You...haven't received any word from King's Landing with the past few days?"
"No, not since the news of your wedding," said William, walking beside her with his hands behind him. "My most sincere congratulations Mi'Lady. Lord Dondarrion is ready to receive you in the Great Hall at your leisure."
Criston walked close behind the two. He glanced down and noticed his fathers hands nervously wringing.
"Perfect! I shall greet him!" Rhaenyra said as she bustled away towards the great hall. Both Coles struggled to keep up with her. Criston caught up with his father. Will gave him a wary look and said in a hushed whisper, "What brings the two of you to these parts?"
"Oh! I'm sorry!" Rhaeneya stopped and turned to face the two. "My sworn shield missed his family. He requested a brief leave, and I was more than happy to oblige."
"She has good ears." Criston tried to joke to his petrified father.
"Yes..quite. Forgive my rudeness-"
Rhaenyra waved her hand. "Not at all. Please, feel free to be comfortable around me."
"Yes Mi'Lady. So it's...the two of you?"
Rhaenyra's mind raced, thinking of a reason. That's when it hit her. The heir to the Iron Throne doesn't need a reason to do anything.
"Yes," said Rhaenyra, "Just us. Ser Cole is my sworn shield. Where I go, he goes. And where he goes, I go. I trust no one else in King's Landing with my protection."
William looked at his son in awe. "My boy."
"We need more Stormlanders in King's Landing, for certain!" Rhaeneya beamed as she returned her fast walking.
As the entered the great hall, Will took his spot beside Lord Dondarrion. The nobleman was seated with his wife, a young haughty blonde. She eyed Rhaenyra up and down with...contempt? Rhaenyra wasn't sure, however she was amused at the young lady's tenacity to insult her future queen.
"Princess Rhaenyra," said Lord Dondarrion, "I hope you enjoyed the moat outside that could have been yours."
Rhaeneya curtsied. "Yes it's a lovely...moat."
Criston stifled a laugh. Will, standing with the safety of the lords back, shook his head.
"This visit is quite a surprise. I hadn't heard from the king since news of your wedding."
"We didn't even get an invite." The lord's wife sneered.
Will's face turned a ghostly white.
"I...apologies," Rhaenyra responded, stunned. "I...truly had no clue."
"Quite alright," said Lord Dondarrion, "So when is it?"
"It was...three days ago, milord," quipped William.
"Well, what are you doing here with your guide, and where is Ser Laenor? Your husband."
"I...you haven't heard?"
She was thankfully correct in her theory news doesn't travel as fast to the Stormlands. This was surely a gift. Rhaeneya threw a hand over her forehead and she swooned.
"He left me at the altar!" Rhaenyra cried. "I fled in my devestation!"
Both William and Criston's mouths dropped.
"Ser Criston has been by my side since finding me. He has protected me for years. I trust him more than those in my own family. The most trustworthy men are from the Marches."
"Thank you, Princess," said the lady, "That is quite an honor to hear. If only we heard such glowing compliments from your father, the King."
Will rubbed his temples.
Lord Dondarrion gave Criston a nod. "You have done your house well, my boy."
"When I become queen," said Rhaenyra, "I promise that Blackhaven and King's Landing will be the closest of allies."
"Yes. My lady I would gladly offer your my hand in place, were I not already wedded to my beautiful wife."
"Of course. Congratulations on your wedding my lord."
"Although my sons are coming of age soon, and a merger of the two houses should do both us well!"
The hall was stone silent.
"I'm sorry my lord," said Rhaenyra, recovering herself, "It's...much too soon. The heartbreak has not left me quite yet."
"Of course, of course. I shall have a bed chamber made for you. And a cot outside the door for your shield."
Rhaenyra curtsied again. "Thank you. All I ask is...if you hear word from my father, please do not tell him. I am...too full of sorrow to speak of it yet."
"Of course. My lady."
Will lead the two out of the great hall, towards the guest chambers. He said nothing but shook his head furiously at whatever he was thinking.
"Your brothers are here, with the children," said Will to Criston. "Your mother will be pleased to see you as well!"
"Everyone's here?" Criston said with surprise.
"Yes, what are the chances. And you brought the future queen? An amazing lad, you are. Here are your chambers, Mi'Lady! I hope you have a good as rest as in the Red Keep."
Rhaenyra smiled. "I'm sure I will. Thank you so much, Mister Cole."
———
Criston felt the daggers of his fathers stare from the moment they entered Blackhaven. He knew as soon as Rhaenyra closed the door, he would be assaulted with a thousand questions.
And of course, as soon as the wooden door softly shut, his father pulled him away out of the reach of her ears.
"What happened?" Will whispered.
"N-nothing!" Criston lied.
"The princess had six other kingdoms to choose from for respite, and she chose Blackhaven. Why."
"I..." Criston didn't know what to say except the first thing in his mind. He shrugged and said, "I did suggest Essos."
Will looked stunned. Then burst into a chuckle shaking his head.
"I heard stories of the heir's...eccentricities. But this..."
"She does what she wants." Criston shrugged.
"All that Targaryen incest," said Will, "surely has left them all mad."
"She's the one who named me to the Kingsguard," said Criston sternly, "out of all the noble houses present. She named me. I owe all of this to her."
The good and the difficult. Criston kept to himself.
"She is quite friendly," said Will, "The noblemen scoff at the idea of her ruling the Seven Kingdoms. But if she continues journeys such as these...perhaps the princess will get more support than even she realizes."
Criston placed a hand on his father's shoulder, and pulled him to an embrace.
———
It was difficult, returning to this.
Criston standing outside. Rhaenyra sitting here, alone. In the younger years she thought of ways to invite him in. He never agreed until the night she stole his helmet.
She no longer wanted this divide anymore. Princess and knight. Lady and steward. She wanted Criston where he truly belonged, which was at her side.
A knock on the door broke her thoughts. She opened it to greet Criston.
"Mi'lady, I request a brief leave. I wish to see my family for dinner."
Rhaenyra nodded. "Of course."
"I trust you're safe in your chambers provided you don't sneak out but..." he slips her his own dagger. "Stay safe."
"Ser Criston." Rhaenyra stopped him. "May I come?"
The chambers of House Cole was settled in east tower of Castle Blackhaven. While small, the warmth inside the home was a vast contrast to the dark coldness of Blackhaven.
The feast, however simple, was still lively and extravagant. She met Criston's brothers, Simon and Peter and sister Sarah. Criston's brothers were both married with young children, while Sarah seemed to be unmarried.
Rhaenyra found Will, while serious in the castle was quite warm and friendly for a nobleman. The mother, Corinne, busied herself in the kitchen. She was clearly stressed over the unexpected guest.
Everyone in the house was so...welcoming. A very strange thing for the princess, who was used to less friendly dinners.
Steadfast and true, indeed.
"Mother," said Sarah, "Please sit down!"
"In a moment!" Corinne rushed to the table, bowing a head to Rhaenyra. "I'm so sorry Mi'Lady, I hadn't time to ask the Lady of Blackhaven for the finer dishes."
"It's quite - may I help you?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Oh, no!" Corinne pulled a chair for Rhaenyra. "Please sit."
"Forgive me if the food isn't to taste." Said Corinne, passing out plates filled with meats and cooked vegetables.
"No, it's amazing!" Rhaenyra said with truth. She found herself eating more than she usually had at the Red Keep.
"Mother, give her a moment," said Sarah, "I'm sure the princess is still distressed over what occurred."
"I know," said Corinne as she took a seat across from Rhaenyra. "I cannot believe anyone would leave such a beautiful woman at the altar. And the Princess of Dragonstone!"
"Yes it's quite--"
"My brother and his men most likely scared him away." Simon quipped.
Peter sneered. "Or maybe Ser Laenor fancied them."
"Peter!" Corinne scolded, then turned to her husband. "Will, say something!"
"Come off it, Corinne," said Will, "The whole seven realms know that boy is a fruit!"
The table roared in laughter, even Rhaenyra couldn't help herself. Corinne pursed her lips in absolute fury.
Will chuckled at his flustered wife.
"What? We arent that far from the Stepstones. Of all the men to wed to the princess. She be better off with one of those celibate kingsguards, eh my boy?"
"Mmm, indeed." Criston murmured as he drank his mead.
"God, Will, she's sitting right here!" Corinne chastised. "We're having a very nice dinner and I will not have it spoiled with your--"
"I'm in love with your son."
Cole spit out his beer. All eyes were quickly cast on Rhaenyra. Sarah jumped out of her seat and ran to through to the door. She opened it, looked both ways and closed it again. "I see nobody."
Everyone drew closer in their chairs, focused on Rhaenyra. She bit her lip and played with the rings on her fingers.
"Ser Laenor didn't leave me at the altar. I left him," said Rhaenyra. "I made...a quite mess of things...but I would want nothing more than your blessing to let us be married."
Criston's parents looked at each other. Speechless. Slack-jawed.
"Our blessing?"
Rhaenyra blinked. "Well, yes, I need a blessing right?"
"She is adorable..." whispered one brother's wife to another.
Will stood up, stammering. "Words cannot express the...honor your words being us, Princess."
His brothers looked at Criston, aghast.
"I knew it!" Peter shouted.
"You knew nothing!" Criston snapped back.
"Are you joking, you don't just don't show up with a woman--"
"God, Peter," his wife, Rose, bemoaned.
"She's not just a woman she's the princess!" Sarah exclaimed, throwing a napkin at Peter. "You disrespectful cunt!"
"Cris, you fucking dog!" Simon exclaimed. "I knew you had it in you! Stealing the Realm's Delight from those noble fucks!"
"Simon!"
"This man," Simon told Rhaenyra as he grabbed Criston by the collar. "The Folly of the Maidens they called him! Many hearts of the Marches are broken tonight!"
"Did you not take a vow of celibacy?" Peter quipped.
The whole table, again, fell silent.
"My god, Peter..." Rose sighed, shaking her head.
"I'm just asking, I don't personally care-"
"Shut up, Peter!"
"House Targaryen is going to flatten us," Simon's wife, Lily, warned. Lily then jumped at the realization of Rhaenyra sitting next to her. "I mean--I'm so sorry..."
"It's not House Targaryen," said Peter, "it's the rest of them - - oof, I bet the Baratheons are just livid!"
"Enough!" Corinne exclaimed.
"What can I do?" Will asked Rhaenyra, purposely avoiding the spectacle before them.
"Give me guidance," said Rhaenyra, "how...dangerous is this situation?"
Will paused for a moment. "Does your father know where you are?"
"No, he doesn't. Your family is safe."
"Well," said Will as he scratched his beard, "I wasn't thinking of that initially, although that may be something to address. I was just thinking...I'm sure he is worried."
Rhaenyra smiled, touched by his concern.
"Father," said Peter, "I do wish you would consider our safety before the king's personal feelings."
"He's probably feeling like putting House Cole's heads on a pike." Simon added.
"I'll put your heads on a pike if you keep disrespecting yourselves in front of the princess!" William snapped.
"No, please, you all don't have to treat me like a princess right now!" Rhaenyra put her head in her hands. "I'm just...a girl. Honestly."
Sarah placed a hand on her back. "I can't imagine...the pressure that you have been placed under."
Pressure.
Rhaeneya had never felt pressured in her duties as royalty. She felt the emptiness of isolation, she felt the headache of annoyance. But until tonight, the heavy weight of her title sat in her chest. She took a deep breath trying to shake it, but every time she tried it grew stronger. It was suffocating. For the first time, Rhaeneya felt like she was going to collapse from the weight, the exhaustion, the fear of the consequences of what she had done.
This was the first time she had seen her actions affect someone outside of herself. Criston, his parents, brothers, nephews and nieces could all be killed. All because of her selfish desires. Rhaenyra wondered, is this how it will be as queen? People she had never met, living in lands she never stepped foot on, their lives counted on the decisions she could make.
Rhaenyra stood up, and announced her first real decision as the heir to the iron throne.
"We won't run." Rhaenyra said. "I will fix this. I won't let anything happen to your house. It's the least I can do for...such amazing food. And warmth I haven't felt since my mother was alive."
Corinne also stood. "Princess...I hope it doesn't offend my lady if I could ask for an embrace?"
Rhaenyra looked at her, stunned. Before Corrine sat back down in embarrassment, Rhaeneya nearly ran to the other side of the table and ran into her arms. Corrine pulled her I to a tight hug, stroking her hair as Rhaenyra rested her head against her chest.
She didn't even realize how much she had missed a mothers warmth.
———
Criston and Rhaenyra were met with the chill of the night air as they left the tower. Criston could feel her desire to wrap his arms around hers, but they both kept their distance. Still, Rhaenyra stayed close enough to lean her shoulder against his.
"I forgot to ask, Ser Criston," said Rhaenyra, "What feast your family was celebrating."
"Oh, no that's a regular night for us." Cole said. "Obscenities and all."
Rhaenyra stoped. "Every night?"
Criston looked back at the tower "When I was younger, yes. But...tonight was special. It had been years since we were all together.
Rhaeneya stared at the tower as well, silent for a moment. Finally, she asked, "You don't...you don't have conflict?"
Criston laughed. "Oh of course! Especially with my brother Simon. We always fought over each others girls. Next time you will have to ask him about Jenny Big T--"
He stopped himself, cleared his throat and murmured an "Excuse me."
Rhaeneya looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "Big what?"
Criston motioned his hands as he answers nervously. "You...know"
Rhaenyra crossed her arms. "I do know, I want to hear you say it."
He bit his lip and Rhaeneya burst into a laugh. "Criston! You can't say the words tits in front of me?"
Criston looked down. "It feels vulgar in your presence Princess--"
"Tits, Criston! I command you to say "tits" right now!"
Criston shook his head, stifling a laugh. He just could not. Thankfully, a booming voice shouted from behind them and inturrupted their awkward moment.
"Cole!"
A tall, burly man dressed in armor jogged towards the two. The booming voice and large beard told Criston exactly who it was.
Criston eyes lit up. "Ser Arlan!"
Arlan Dondarrion looked Criston up and down, shaking his head. A wide grin was cast across his face. "Look at you...fucking, just look at you! A kingsguard!
"I..."
"And my sworn shield," quipped Rhaenyra.
"Ah! Forgive my rudeness, Princess," Arlan said as he bowed to her. "Ser Arlan Dondarrion."
"I've heard so many great things about you, Ser Arlan."
"As have my, Princess. The Realm's Delight is such a beauty in the flesh!" Arlan turned to Criston and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've done your father proud."
Criston grinned sheepishly. "Thank you, Ser."
"So when's the wedding?"
Both their eyes widened.
Arlan shook his head and chuckled. "Forgive my eavesdropping. I was outside the door, waiting for your beautiful sister - I mean, keeping watch of your family, in your leave."
"Fucking dog!" Cole slapped his shoulder laughing.
"I can't help myself, one day she will say yes!"
"I'll raze your before that."
"Raze nothing!" Arlan swung an arm over Criston's shoulder. "Come, have a pint with me! we'll see the princess to her quarters."
Arlan glanced at Rhaenyra. "Or will the lady join us for a pint?"
Rhaeneya smirked. "If I'm not intruding."
"Oh no, it's an honor!"
Before Criston could object, the two took him on either arm and led him to the soldier's quarters. The room was already in festive revelry. They were immediate warmed upon entering, and Criston hugged and drank with friends he hadn't seen in years. He kept close to Rhaenyra, who was an especially popular figure with them.
She sat up on the table, conversing with the crowed of awe-eyed solders. To his surprise, she drank the mead quite smoothly - he figured that royalty was unable to imbibe in anytime other than wine.
How easily she socialized with folk considered lesser than her, was a stunning sight for everyone in the room.
"Tell us Princess," asked one soldier, "What songs do they sing in King's landing.
Rhaenyra paused. "Do you know The Bear and Maiden Fair?"
"Do we!" The men exclaimed as they burst into song to Rhaenyra's amusement.
Arlan pulled Criston away, close enough to keep her in sight while out of earshot. Arlan took a swig of his beer and shook his head.
"Look at you. Bagging a Targaryen! No man in Blackhaven could imagine even seeing one!" Arlan smacked his shoulder. "And here you are with a 10 foot pole up your arse!"
"Ser Arlan," said Cole, "I worry for the fallout should Lord Dondarrion discover -- "
Arlan shook his head, laughing. "Don't worry about that. My brother, for now, is more concerned with his new child bride. He has no plans on your house, but when he hears the news," Arlan placed his hands in his shoulders. "House Cole is protected."
Cole let out a sigh. "Thank you."
"This will be good for the Stormlands. Good for the realm. Relax for once!"
"Ser Arlan," Criston sat his mug on the nearby table. He began to unbuckle his cloak, "This is for you. As a thank you, for bringing me up to where I am today."
Arlan looked stunned as Criston dropped the fabric in his hands. "Are you mad?"
"I broke my oath, my vow to the Father," Criston said as he looked down "Out of love and devotion, but regardless. I still soiled my white cloak. I shouldn't be wearing it."
Arlan looked like he wanted to kill him. "For God's sake, lad. You really intend on flagellating yourself before those fatheads in King's Landing? Come here,"
Arlan turned Criston around, redressing the cloak to his shoulders. Criston felt his shoulders lighter as pride filled him. To be cloaked by the man who made Ser Criston a knight. He never felt more honored.
"You're a good man. An honorable man. There will be songs about you long after we're dead." Arlan said proudly.
"Thank you, Ser."
"And quit saying you soiled your cloak in front of the Princess!" Arlan snapped. "Insulting her is a greater dishonor than breaking any vow."
"Thank you!" shouted Rhaenyra, who glared at Criston.
Arlan raised a brow. "Eh? Good ears, that one."
Criston chuckled. "Truly."
"And look at her! Gods, Cole. The only one who will ruin this for you is yourself."
Rhaenyra approached the two, stumbling in her drunkenness. Criston sped towards her, placing a hands on her shoulders.
"Was he always this serious?" Rhaenyra chuckled.
"As the day is long!" Arlan exclaimed as he patted Criston on the back. "Ser Criston is a good man."
"I should see the Princess to her chambers," said Criston as she leaned against his chest, giggling. His foot slipped from under him as he took his first step.
Arlan caught him and began to laugh. "I shall see you both to your chambers."
———
Rhaenyra awoke to the sound of a raven cawing.
Even without the headache, the sound of a raven's screech was enough to make her ears bleed. But especially after a night of Stormlands brew, it especially threatened to undo her sanity.
Raenyra groaned, shuffling towards the window. She untied the message from the bird's claw and unraveled the paper. She first noticed the seal fused onto the parchment - The Prince of Dragonstone.
Rhaenyra ignored that it was her own seal on that paper. But since she allowed Daemon to stay, she could not fault him too much.
"My Dearest Niece,
It behooves you to come visit Lord Velaryon at Driftmark. We have mended all tensions. I have assembled a ship to Essos for you. It's not full of oranges, but you will surely get your fill in your new life.
Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys have assured your safe passage, as well as for Ser Crispin."
"Gods," said Rhaenyra. The man truly cannot help himself. She continued to read:
"I will be there to greet you. I plan to propose to Lady Laena, and wish for nothing more than to have my niece at my side.
All my love,
Your Dear Uncle"
A knock on the door filled the silence of the room. The door creaked open as Criston entered. His face was sunken, eyes still tired from last nights revelry.
"Come lay down," Rhaeneya said as she approached him, guiding him to the mattress. "You need rest before we make our leave."
His eyes drifted opened and closed as Rhaenyra unbuckled his armor. When all but his gambeson remained, he slipped under the covers as Rhaenyra pulled the blankets over him.
"To Essos?" Criston yawned sleepily.
"Driftmark."
Criston's eyes shot back open. He said nothing, he needn't too with the look on his face. Rhaeneya sat by the edge of the bed, stroking his face.
"Let me protect you this time." said Rhaenyra.
Criston looked at her. "Rhae."
"Yes?"
He hooked the collar of her dress and gently guided her to him. "I'm sorry," he kissed her.
"For what, now?" Rhaeneya kissed him again.
"For...my words." Criston kissed her again. "On the ship. Back then."
Ah yes. The soiled white cloak.
"Being able to love you is the greatest honor I could ask for." Criston said.
"To love you is my greatest honor as well." Rhaeneya kissed him again.
———
Daemon stood before the Driftwood Throne, spinning the tip of his boot into the ground. He was really getting bored of Lord Corlys' deluge of perceived disrespect. Daemon knew that to return Corlys to his side would require a bit of self flagellation. But Daemon's patience wore thin as the Sea Snake continued to complain about his neice, his brother, the entire family.
After all, Daemon himself could only tolerate so much disrespect. He took Corlys' pause of words as an open to strike.
"I remember when my brother was chosen," Daemon said, "Princess Rhaenys was quite upset, weren't you, Dear Cousin?"
Rhaenys, who hadn't said a word yet, simply shrugged. "Time heals some wounds."
"Not ones this deep," said Daemon, "Dear Rhaenyra is a lot like you are."
"A lot like I was." Rhaenys corrected, "She'll change...when her father captures them. When he kills her lover. The light she holds in her eyes will die. Just like mine."
"Do you really want that?"
Corlys and Rhaenys did not answer.
"I'll be more specific," said Daemon, "Do you think a Hightower should sit on the Iron Throne?"
The two glanced at each other. Corlys kept his lips right, the furrow in his brow telling the answer.
"I didn't think so," Daemon said with a smirk as he began to pace the court. "A crown to Aegon is a crown to that snake Otto Hightower."
"Otto Hightower has been removed from the court for quite some time." Corlys countered.
"He will be back the moment my brothers heart stops beating, you know that," said Daemon, "Rhaenyra, despite her affinity for impulse, carries deep respect for our heritage and both our houses."
Daemon stopped his pacing and stood in front of them. "As queen, I imagine she would rely on both of you as very close advisors."
Corlys remained stern. "It means nothing if our houses are not united."
Daemon raised his hands in the air. "Then we unite them!"
"We tried. Twice."
Daemon left a palm outstretched towards Corlys. "I am here to request Lady Laena's hand in marraige. All our heirs will carry the name Valeryon. And their heirs."
"Go on." Rhaenys said.
"I also propose that any house that wishes to join our children in marraige must give up their name. Whether they are man or woman does not matter. And your line continues."
Corlys looked at Rhaenys, who placed her hand over his. Rhaenys stayed silent for a moment , deep in thought. Finally, she said, "You're wrong, Daemon. I do not want to see the light in her eyes fade."
Corlys gave a nod, looking back at Daemon. "I accept your proposal. And, I will help you."
"Oh, not me," said Daemon as he wore a impish grin. "Our future queen."