Edwin I
The Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms walked straight to his horse, mounted it and took his place at his father's left side while Lord Eddard sat at his right. He was still a little sore from the practice bouts against Robb Stark the previous day—he had won three bouts against Kaeron, but they had tired him enough that he lost his second match against the heir to the North—but his horse, Chivalry, was gentle enough that he had was comfortable going on a hunt. In hindsight, it was probably the Targaryen's strategy to tire him so he would lose against the other opponent. He would not put it past Kaeron to, if not win, make his enemy lose.
In the time it took the royal party to leave Wintertown, Edwin had already been relegated to the back row with the Redwyne twins and Robb. Tyrek had stayed behind, allegedly to assist his cousin the Queen, if need be, but Edwin knew in his gut that it was because of Arya Stark, despite her recent marriage and his betrothal. He did not blame his cousin and friend; the heir to the throne did not know how he would've felt if he'd been betrothed to a girl since before she was weaned. As it was, Lady Sansa had been a pleasant surprise: beautiful and gentle and kind, whereas he'd imagined all Northern women to be hoarse and boorish.
The green canopy of the Wolfswood rose to greet them as the forest's lord, king and their men rode west. The day was sunny with wisps of clouds flowing freely in the wind. A perfect day for hunting, his lord father said. Lord Stark had joined them with his heir and his bastard, and so had Celaena, Aenyra and Kaeron. Edwin had only been invited early that morning, by Kaeron of all people. The old frustration boiled beneath his skin and the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms turned to his friends and laughed at a joke Hobbar had made that he hadn't bothered to hear. It was best not to dwell on those thoughts.
Behind him, he could hear Celaena speaking of some obscure fact about the inheritance of the wildlings which she'd read in the library at Winterfell. Aenyra was making enthusiastic approving noises at appropriate times while Kaeron sat silent as the grave. The figure on his horse was less a man in a cloak and more a bundle of furs and wool with a boy somewhere within them. "Dragons don't do well in the cold, Snow," Edwin had heard him say to Lord Stark's bastard, the last remanent of a conversation that halted when he arrived. An uneasy peace had been settled between the king's son and his ward since the feast, but it did not satisfy Edwin.
Elyana, when he asked her to the hunt, had simply told him, "Get me a stag's head, little brother, and try not to crack your head like an egg," and he had exercised enough restrain to not make a face at her. Apparently, he had once fallen from his pony when ridding somewhere with father and it was his sister's holy cause to never let him forget a folly. Lady Sansa and her brother Rickon had been invited as well, though they had declined in favor of packing. They were to leave the next sennight, before the late summer snows hit. Summer, he thought derisively. I haven't felt warmth a single time since we crossed the Neck. He could not imagine what winter would be like here when it came in a few years—or so the maester said, Pycelle had been wrong before—and he had no desire to see it for himself.
It was one of the few hunts Father had decided to take him to; even Celaena and Lancel, the king's former squire, went on more hunts than he did. Old Jon Arryn had told him that it was because he was the heir to the throne, while Celaena was merely a ward of the Crown. But he knew that was not the reason, father simply preferred her to him. Still, if he made a good showing today, mayhaps the king would be amiable to taking him on those hunts more often. Dare I say, I might even convince him to stay in his bloody castle for longer than a six month, he mused. He had done his research, certainly. Apparently, the Wolfswood housed foxes, bears, boars, deer, elks, rabbits and more.
"What do you think we'll be able to catch today, Your Grace?" The question from Robb Stark brought him out of his thoughts.
"You know your woods better than I do, my lord," he said. Edwin did not have his father's charm, but befriending the heir to the North would only benefit him in his reign. "With my father joining us, doubtless we shall catch the best of the Wolfswood."
"If the strength of our party does not scare them away. That creature, for instance," Robb pointed, to where the prince could only catch the glimpse of red-gold fur before its owner ran off.
"What was it?" He only got a shrug as the response as his father led them in pursuit of the beast. In its place though, they found a carcass. The heir bade his stallion to move to his father, surrounded by white cloaks and friends as the king was. A dead bird lay on the ground at the horses' feet, his feathers scattered about like a shattered mirror. "An eagle?" He hazarded, only to be corrected by Lord Eddard.
"A falcon, and an old one at that."
Confused murmurs of "What happened?" broke amidst the crowd and Edwin seized the chance it offered. "It must be a treecat. What else could kill a falcon in its nest?"
"Except it was not killed in its nest. This was an old falcon, and had fallen on the ground after an injury. All the creature had to do was slit its throat while the bird lay helpless. You don't need a treecat for that," Celaena pointed out.
"Well spotted, girl," his father said approvingly. "Regardless, do those treecats not hibernate this time of the year?"
"They do, uncle. All through the second last halves of the year before the winter comes. They won't wake until the end of the year at the earliest, to hunt before the cold sets in," she replied.
"My lady speaks truly, Your Grace," Robb Stark added. "Maester Luwin was confident that all the treecats in these woods are hibernating now." Edwin had to remind himself not to dislike the Stark heir. Good men do not hate good men, and Ned Stark's son is surely that.
"Learn about what you're hunting before you blunder into a folly, boy," father scolded him without even a glance his way. "C'mon Ned, there may be a fox or two we could still catch."
A prince and future king should honor his father and mother, obey them in all things while content in his role. And if his mother loved his younger siblings twice as much as she loved him it was nobody's business but her own. It was harder to tell that to himself when father fondled serving women in feasts, thinking that no one saw him, or worse, when he specifically sent for whores in a discreet manner so any of his children would not hear of it. The former he could excuse as moment of weakness from a man shouldering the burdens of kingship but he could not even give his father the excuse when he planned his dalliances in advance. Tommen listened more to Uncle Jaime's daughter than to his elder brother, and he'd have better luck masquerading as a direwolf than convincing mother to stop spoiling his younger brother.
"You've been spending too much time around Lord Stannis," Kaeron said lightly, guiding his mare to stand beside the prince's stallion. It took the Targaryen boy pointing at his jaw for Edwin to realize he had clenched his teeth.
The Redwyne twins had gone on without him, as had the Stark heir. Aenyra stood halfway between the royal party and those lingering behind like he was, and both boys quickly caught up to her.
"Did you hear that noise?" She said suddenly as they were riding towards the rest of the hunting party, her head swingling this way and that as if to determine where the sound came from by her sight alone.
"Don't be scared of the noises you hear in the woods. If something there was going to kill you, you wouldn't hear it coming," Kaeron replied without even blinking. Edwin chuckled before he realised it.
"Thank you, big brother. That alleviates all my fears." Aenyra's responses to her brother were always the few times she used sarcasm.
"You're very welcome, little sister," Kaeron said, straight-faced. How he envied that inscrutable face. How he had dreaded seeing it take over his once-friend's spirit ten years ago. How he hated to constantly have to wonder what was the meaning behind it.
But he was a prince of the realm with a calling to answer, so when he heard the exclamations of his father at catching a red fox, the creature lying dead on the forest floor amidst blue flowers, he quickened his stride and left the Targaryens behind.