THE BEGGAR PRINCE
His boots were drenched in sluggish mud and dragging his leg which was soaked till knee in flood water made him regret of fleeing from Summerhall, leaving his guards to their devices and taking this precarious path through Wendwater, all alone. Had the old man who rowed the boat doubted any Princely appearance on his face, Rhaegar would have been robbed and stabbed several thousand times, by now. Which brought back the question of his current appearance.
He was stinking… like rotten fish and even his horse, which was not currently allowing him to climb due to the stench that exuded from him, neighed, lifting its front legs if he reached a little closer. Jon Connington—the Griffin's Roost heir, who had recently joined to squire alongside Rhaegar, had warned about the upcoming Storm when Rhaegar had decided to visit the place of his birth—Summerhall. Rhaegar should have heeded his new companion's advice, after all, considering how his plan to run away became as botched up as the tragedy in Summerhall had.
The ugly truth was, despite the number of books he had succeeded in swallowing, rationality and fate often japed aloud mocking at his face, holding its fat belly in amusement, every time he attempted to try on a mission. Although, he doubted if the same fate would manage to find the beautiful Rhaegar's face, now, as Jon had once put it. It was a moniker that Rhaegar preferred no would use for addressing a growing man as him — a Prince at that.
His face was greasy, dirty, filled with grime. His hair matted, filthy with a brown shade of mud overtaking the glorious silver-gold crown that Jon had once praised. The next time if Jon ever opened his mouth to make a jape on Rhaegar's appearance in the name of showering praises, he was planning to give a clout to the boy's ear. Sometimes the boy made him uncomfortable in an odd sense, although he found the boy's heart too true amongst the crowd of lickspittles in the capital.
The flood had spoiled every plan of Rhaegar's. Everywhere, stagnant water from the recent storm was overflowing and taking a lonely journey along the Kingswoods gave no enthusiasm to Rhaegar's heart… or to his stomach.
He already lost all his coins to the boatman, to whom he had to beg, just so he and his horse would cross the other side of the Wendwater river and the old man wouldn't stop chewing sour-leaf and act deaf, until Rhaegar shoved the last of the three golden dragons that he had owned. Reluctantly the old man had shared a loaf of dry meat to last a few miles of the journey, which Rhaegar had graciously finished within two days. Perhaps he should have rationed the meat loaf. He still had almost three days to reach the capital. Gods… How did he never learn these mundane works had such life-threatening connotations. Now, Rhaegar had to hunt and feed, which proved to be a dire task for a boy of only ten name days.
He regretted of not learning to hunt. It was too gruesome for his taste. Seeing cooked food on the plate was much easier than seeing animals getting butchered bloody. Had he never found the scrolls, he wouldn't have lifted his sword in the first place.
The recollections of what he found in the scrolls, which contained century old prophecies, gave chills down his spine, even now. And everything pointed to the place of his birth, where the dragons were supposed to hatch. No dragon came… though. Only he was born, amidst salt and smoke, just as the prophecy stated, if his and Maester Uncle's predictions were anywhere close in assumptions.
He was ardent in solving that interesting puzzle in the beginning, to figure out the jumbled words and make sense out of the informations at hand. Rhaegar would run to his mother and explain in detail about what he had discovered when they would assemble for supper… until he discovered the truth of the tragedy in Summerhall. His mother had no knowledge of it. Even his Maester Uncle was unaware of the sacrifice part. Rhaegar couldn't brush it off, as he had done before and so, he had set on a mission to see it for himself, to look at the place where he was born, killing so many lives.
Only he couldn't stomach being there and accept what they did was fine, or feel… it was fine for him to live while all their lives were scorched to a crisp. He was a man now, and he wouldn't shed any tears, but would they all been alive, had he died?
Rhaegar was supposed to die. King Aegon V Targaryen had wanted to sacrifice Rhaegar's life for hatching the seven dragon eggs. Miraculously he and his mother were saved by one of the Kingsguards, and the ceremony was botched up culminating in the rest of his family burn down to ashes. He couldn't smile after learning such a tragic tale. He was not able to determine if it was in his right to live, when all those remarkable people perished in fire. Princess Rhaelle Targaryen, Prince Duncan Targaryen, and his lady-love Jenny of OldStones, King Aegon V Targaryen. Every single one of them perished in wildfire, while he remained alive and healthy. Why would the Gods save him of all the people? Was his life really worth compared to those of who would have made a difference in the lives of the small folks?
His hunger disappeared from his body, and he kept pulling the reins of his horse on the muddied road, lost in the thoughts of death and fire. When the sun finally came down, he tied the rope of his horse near a small pond and climbed on one of the fattest tree, to rest himself in peace. He didn't want to offer the life that was exchanged for all marvellous men, to a wild boar in the woods. Besides, he had been sleeping on the same wet ground for almost a week now and he wanted to dry himself at least for one night.
Along with the chirping noise of small sparrows and cuckoos, the smell of burnt bacon and hot broth made his stomach growl and grumble when he fluttered his lids. The moment his legs slipped along the bark, he gathered himself, realizing that he was still sleeping on a tree, and not in the comfort of the Red Keep.
"Did you check everywhere for any intruders?" A muscular man, who wore a golden cloak of an antlered stag, bellowed a thunderous command, making Rhaegar to almost tremble.
"There is none, milord." One of the man's guards answered.
"The horse could belong to a traveller, but it is safe to investigate again, Pate. Search for anyone who might be around this place. I don't want to risk facing a brigand now."
Rhaegar realized it was the Lord of Storm's End, Steffon Baratheon, and they were all searching for him, because he was absurd enough to tie his horse near a pond. It was nice to see noblemen after so many days, who could help him on an easy journey to the castle, but he was determined to make it on his own. Besides, none of them would recognize him, which would be another significant trouble that he would need to face after reaching the gates of Red Keep.
There were few tents in quite some distance near a sloppy high ground, and from the tree he resided, he found few men breaking their fast, while others were cooking their hunt. His mouth started drooling, and he had to hold his stomach in grief of not eating for close to two days now. Could he steal some of their food?
Climbing down, he took careful steps to not get caught and frequently hid behind the thick trees and bushes, spying for any intruders, now and again, when he started searching for the fireplace where they might have left some food. To his disappointment, three fireplaces had only embers and ashes in its leave, not even a bone to devour. He gave up. This mission was a disaster, and he might even lose his horse, at this rate.
When he walked back to the tree, though, a squeaking noise emerged from a bush obliging him to investigate. To his joy, a hare snare had caught a fat hare, and he would have screamed had he not been under cover. His shivering fingers gingerly lifted his alive breakfast, which planned to run for its life, but he held it in his palms, saying a prayer to the Gods. The strenuous part would be killing. He had never killed and now…
"So, you are the burglar my father is worrying about?" A girl's voice came from behind and he would have faced her, had her steel was not kissing his neck.
"I am not a burglar, my lady."
"Oh, You aren't?" She pressed the blade little closer. "Then why are you stealing my food?"
"Your food?" He pondered, and when the hare squealed he sighed for being a nitwit. "I was hungry and found the snare…"
"If you take food from other's snare, it is called stealing, stupid boy." She chided but carefully removed her dagger from his neck.
"Jo, what are you doing? Don't take out your dagger until I bring father." This was a boy's voice, and Rhaegar regretted when she pressed the steel again to his neck.
"You will be the lord of Storm's End one day, Stannis. Tell me what is the punishment for stealing." The girl named Jo asked her brother in curiosity. It seemed the girl didn't know what the punishment was in the first place.
"Chopping off two of the fingers and more, if the extent of crime is severe."
"Two fingers? Poor lad…" She sighed, relaxing her arm and Rhaegar hurried away from them too fast, but not fast enough when he fell ridiculously into another pile of stagnant water, earning a thunderous laughter from the fair lady who later walked towards him and offered a hand. "Here, take this…"
Although humiliated of being laughed at while falling into dirty water, he felt calmly relaxed taking the help of the little lady who should be Lord Steffon's daughter, if his memory served right about the name of his heir, Stannis Baratheon.
"Jo, you can't help these people. If father finds out that we came here to this secluded woods alone and speaking with a burglar-"
"He is not a burglar, idiot. He is a beggar." Jo chided his brother, and that was even more insulting than being called a burglar.
"Beggar or not… if he tried to steal-" The boy was stating the laws of punishment like he had swallowed a law book, but the girl behaved as if she didn't hear a word of her brother's ranting.
"Does the horse belong to you?" Jo asked, cutting the rope that was tied to the hare and the snare. When Rhaegar nodded, contemplating of fleeing without getting caught, she offered him the food. "I laid the snare last night before setting camp. But we already broke our fast with our lord father. Turnip stew and fried bacon. So, you can have the food if you are desperate."
"You behave like a ludicrous moron, Jo! If this wretched boy stabs you–"
"I won't stab anyone, my lord." Rhaegar snapped before collecting the food, which was alive and breathing. "And the lady is no moron, if I may correct you. She is generous…" Jo laughed, holding her stomach, and even Rhaegar couldn't stop that thin smile which started curving his lips along the corner but Jo's brother didn't like it and he started seething and stomping his foot in frustration, before he left the place. "Will he bring your Lord Father?"
"Nah… He is probably hiding behind some tree, spying on you. He won't leave me, if he feels threatened that I am in some danger."
"I am not a danger…" Rhaegar refuted, although he didn't know why. When he scanned the place though, another bush ruffled its leaf, like the one where the hare snare was present and when he focused, the boy's satin black velvet cloth was clearly visible between the cracks. Rhaegar had no siblings and his sister Shaena died in her cradle, for him to play and dote on younger ones but when he found them both, doing a mischievous stunt, he felt so lonelier than before. His mother was carrying another child now, perhaps, soon he would get a sister like Jo or a brother like Stannis, both of which would be ridiculous to have, still, having them would be a company than being alone.
"No… You are in danger, beggar. Eat the food and leave this place, else, my father's hounds will hunt you down and tear your throat." Jo made cruel faces of dangerous hounds with claws pointing in air, and he chuckled before petting his food.
"Are you a true lady or did you steal the actual lady's garments and roaming around in disguise?"
"Are you true beggar or did you steal a beggar's garments? Instead of killing your food, you are petting it." She snatched the breathing, alive hare from his hand, and in a nice clean cut, she slit its throat in a blink of his eyes. "Do you know to skin a hare?" Her authoritative tone made him actually feel like a beggar than a Prince and when he shook his head, she became a teacher. "My Lord Father would never allow me to skin, but I have watched him do it a thousand times." She said and started meticulously removing the fur from its body.
It appeared too easy, like removing a tunic, but Rhaegar realized the entire process was arduous to follow. When he looked at the snare she had made, the technicality itself made his head to swirl. "Does your lord father take you for hunting?"
"Yeah… This hunting dagger is my nameday gift from him but he wouldn't let me use it, though. He thinks I will cut my hand." Jo pouted, and he grinned with the way she was experimenting on his food. Once she cleaned out the entrails, she picked the stick from the snare and pierced it all the way into the body. "Now, your food is ready. You can make a fire and cook it."
"Thank you, my lady. I have nothing to offer in return, but I assume you are going to the Capital. Perhaps I will get something for you, there."
"You don't just have mud on your face but on your head too." She laughed again, unceremoniously. "We are going to meet the King, the Queen and the Prince." She had the excitement of a child who had its hand full of candies. "The Royal guards will not allow you inside the Red Keep and don't mention my name, else, my Lady mother will flog my ass."
Rhaegar never heard a lady speak so crude like this girl, all the more he felt much more comfortable than the women at court who would look at him like a piece of meat to throw into their daughters' bed. "I will not cause any trouble, in that case. Still, I must insist that, if you chance to meet upon me, you should accept the return gift."
"Even if I meet, it will be hard for me to recognize your toad face that you are hiding beneath this dirt, beggar."
"Perhaps, a Prince is what hiding, my lady." She gave a thunderous laugh, her girl charm all too sweet flushing out, and he offered the smile back. "If you don't believe, kiss the toad and see if I am turning into a Prince."
He didn't mean it, but the girl didn't shy away. The very next moment, she gave him a soft kiss on his dirty cheek and fled from there with giggles and laughter. "You are still a toad, beggar!" She screamed and disappeared into air. Oh, he couldn't wait to see her mud-eaten face after reaching the castle. But before all that, he decided to devour the food, as his stomach was screaming to put something inside.