Harsh breathing could be heard as the audience watched, enthralled.
The midday sun gleaming high in the sky, it's heat caressing those basking in it. The gentle breeze offered from the nearby sea being the only relief, from the humid heat, not helping the smell that makes up King's Landing.
Only those fortunate enough to be inside the walls of the Red Keep have any sense of reprieve from the stench.
Sweat starts to gather on the boy's pale brows, causing droplets to fall against his plump lips, a pink tongue flicks out and brushes away the salty substance, making a grimace frame his face as the taste registers.
Pale silver strands cling to the boy's forehead as he pants from exertion, the gleam of fiery determination shining through his eyes, eyes comparable to dragons glass.
The ringing strain of the two blades grinding against each other, the boy pushing backwards to garner distance he has to swiftly dodges his opponents swing.
The opponent's sword slams into the ground beside said boy, embedding into the ground.
Taking the precious seconds he has the child leaps up kicking at the knight's helmet trying to use the limited view to his advantage.
He understands the boy's reasoning against wearing the 'standard' armor. It's too heavy for his form, 'the limiting movement is more harmful than good' the boy tends to make his opinions well known.
The boy is currently wearing light armor more akin to padding with various plating covering the more vital areas, while keeping the agility his charge raves about.
At least the child will admit that his choice of armor doesn't protect the same.
"That's why you don't let them get the chance to touch you" was the cocky reply from the wayward prince.
The prince says it was a salesword from Braavos that inspired him.
it took plenty of hagaring to convince the master of arms that he will be able to manage with the 'meager gear'
With the help of the same sellsword, and some of the other gold cloaks, when they can spare time, have managed to create a style that suited his lithe body.
The boy won't ever be a powerhouse like the Baratheon boy he's heard rumors about, but he isn't a slouch.
The boy is only Ten and Four, he has time to grow and shape into the fine man Lewyn can see slip through.
Giving a mental shake he breaks out of his thoughts, focusing in on the two sparring in front of him.
The knight, who proved worthy of the title, jerks away from the kick, his heel clipping the armored shoulder instead.
Releasing his sword from the dirt, the knight swiftly raises it into a defense, blocking the short sword aiming for his throat.
The knight's keen eyes see the subtle tremble in the boy's arms, exhaustion clear despite the clear attempt of bravado.
Stepping back he gives the boy in front of him a bow, while addressing him.
"You've improved, your grace."
"Taking advantage of the opportunity Barristan gave you was an excellent tactic" Lewyn stated, teasing the boy he's so fond of.
"Wha-!" The vexed exclamation warms the war veteran's heart.
The flare of fire in the boy's eyes brings him back to that night.
--
"Please!"
The cry breaks through the crackling from the great flames.
Frantically spinning he glances.
It's just luck that he happens to see a hand waving desperately, a frightened face peeking out of the hole made by the crumbled building.
screaming desperately for help.
She seems to be holding something.
His mind screeches as a baby's face registers as the mother perches the child to where they can breathe as much fresh air as they're able to get with the plums of smoke billowing out.
His body jolts before his mind registers; he's sprinting towards them calling for her attention.
She seems to ignore him staring intently at the babe in her arms.
The heat punching him in the face as he nears.
He needs to do something if it's this hot from this distance, then he doesn't have much time.
"Hey!"
Thanking the Gods, when she seems to snap out of her daze. Their eyes meet, Causing his breath to hitch.
"My lady?!"
"Ser Lewyn, oh thank the Gods"
" My- Jenny! Ho- I thought you were with dunc-" he stops, wincing at the despair in her eyes.
"There's no Time! Here!"
Practically shoving the bundle into his arms he stands still, stunned as he gathers the child.
"Go!" Jenny screams desperate.
Quickly as possible he rushes a distance away from the fire, pulling off his cloak he gently sets the baby on it, before rushing back to the lady.
'Princess of the Seven Kingdoms' his mind rages.
His personal honor of a Kingsguard pushing him further.
He'd never live with himself, if he fails saving her.
Finally reaching her, he unsheathes his sword, Jenny seeing what he's about to do tries to stop him knowing the flames are gonna cause the framing to collapse.
Ignoring her, he starts hacking into the thick wood of the door, with every swing it seems like the flames get more intense.
Finally he manages to make the hole big enough to be able to reach her.
As he grabs her she lets out a hissed scream.
Briefly apologizing, he continues to pull her out.
He curses as his arm gets nicked by a sharp edge of the wood from his hacking.
Ignoring the injury with ease, he fits the princess by her knees.
Giving a sympathetic glance as she whimpers.
Reaching the babe he set the woman down on the grass.
She lets out a moan as the cool grass caresses her burned skin.
Her undergarments are worse for wear.
Gently lifting the baby from the cloak, he gathers it before carefully draping it across the woman's figure, trying to save some sense of her dignity.
Sitting down on the ground next to her his armor clanking off as he releases the straps, the baby being repositioned as he proceeds through his armor.
After getting the chest plate off he breathes a sigh of relief, feeling a thousand leagues cooler.
Looking down at the baby in his arms he can't help but grin.
The newborn's red face is scrunched up as if trying to focus.
Wiggling his finger in front of the infant, causing a giggle to break out of the little thing. He feels his soul lighten as he relishes the fact he saved this precious giggle.
"Th-thank you"
The horse voice of Jenny startles him out of his blissfulness
Unbeknownst to the knight it becomes a running theme of people becoming bestowed with the little prince.
Leaning forward he hovers awkwardly over the woman, as he lets her see her child.
The tender look in her eyes as she caresses the baby's face makes him feel invasive.
"You know, I thought I'd die" she states out of the blue
She laughs at his blank look.
He doesn't say anything about the sobs he can hear inside the laugh. He can tell that today's events have just caught up to her.
She drops her hand. Her head stilts towards the woodlands.
"Tell them his name is Lael, dunc' wanted to name a boy L-" falling unconscious before she can finish.
"My lady!"
He presses his fingers to the woman's neck breathing a sigh of relief as the heartbeat is still strong.
"Tell who-?" He whispers
His question is interrupted as the familiar footfalls of heavy plated armor came around the trees. As they near, the flickering torches reveal the figure of Jaehaerys, the man's face regal as his withered face allows.
--
He still remembers the face his grace made as he realizes his brother's wife and child survived, the ravings of an actual dragon was what Lewyn picked up as the King held the babe in his arms.
Jenny of Oldstones, Lael's mother did recover, but not without a price. She lost her left leg after it caught an infection, the amputation had to be below the knee.
Her first diget on her pinky was also taken.
Her screams as they scraped the dead skin off her back haunts him to this day.
Her son, who he sees as his own, has grown up to be a beautiful little fighter. The pale hair that valyrians are known for, is nothing when compared to the purity of Lael's hair. His ruby eyes, always so expressive.
The little terror has a way of pulling you in.
He'd bet if asked the citizens of King's Landing they would start debating against which pale prince was their favorite. Some would say the white prince, while others would say the silver prince.
The two princes are very close being the only two royal children. Rhaegar, being minutes older, claims the protector role, as lewyn has been told by the prince.
Currently, said prince was sitting on the bench off to the side, reading a book, presumably the fable he so adores.
Lael looks towards the Crowned Prince, his gaze always so intense. His charge as always seems so, otherworldly.
lewyn can't help it, there's something about the boy that makes him think there's more to the child.
Don't get him wrong, he's loyal to his boy. He just can tell he's meant for something more.