Chapter Seven
The sun glittered off the flowing Trident River as it snaked its way through the sweeping valleys. The King's royal host made camp alongside the familiar ruby-red waters. I had wandered downstream, far from the noise and bustle of the camp, seeking solitude to ponder Rhea's startling words.
Could there be others like us? People from another world reborn into this one? The thought left me unsettled. I picked up a smooth stone and skimmed it across the river's glassy surface, watching it skip six times before sinking below the gentle current.
The sound of raucous laughter echoed down from the camp. My eyes lifted to see the flapping banners of House Baratheon and Lannister. What game was Rhea playing at? She clearly had her own agenda, but to what end?
Soft footfalls approached from behind. I turned to see Arya slipping out of the forest's edge, her dress smeared with dirt and leaves tangled in her unruly dark hair. Nymeria bounded happily at her heels.
"Finally decided to leave the wolves and join the lions?" I called.
She scowled. "I told you, I'm not riding in that stuffy wheelhouse."
I frowned. "You know it's not proper for a lady to-"
"I'm not a lady!" She plopped down on a large rock at the water's edge. "Septa Mordane can keep her lectures. I'd rather stay out here with Nymeria." The she-wolf lapped lazily at the river before settling down beside her.
I sighed. Arya had always been wild, even in our first life. Some things never changed.
"Just stay close to the camp, please? And don't go bothering Rhea Baratheon. She's..." I hesitated, unsure how to explain.
Arya snorted. "You don't have to tell me. I can't stand that stupid princess." She grabbed a stick and angrily jabbed the earth. "I hate all of them - the Lannisters, the princes and princesses. They killed Lady! They took father!"
I sat down beside her on the rock. "They'll pay for what they've done, I promise."
She turned her grey eyes up at me, wide and serious. "Truly?"
"Yes," I said resolutely. Whatever Rhea and the Lannisters were conspiring, I would find a way to protect my family.
Arya seemed satisfied. She tossed aside her stick and began hurling stones into the water, seeing how many skips she could get. Nymeria barked excitedly and bounded into the shallows after them.
I left her to her games and headed back to camp as the sun dipped low on the horizon. The royal wheelhouse stood empty and unattended at the center of camp. I was almost past it when a voice called out.
"You never answered my question, you know."
Rhea leaned casually in the wheelhouse doorway, still wearing her travel-stained silks. Her green eyes studied me intently.
I stopped and matched her gaze. "What gift do I have? I don't know what you're talking about."
She raised one delicate eyebrow. "No? A boy falls fifty feet onto stone yet floats down without a scratch. And lemon cakes appear out of thin air. Curious."
My jaw clenched. She knew more than I realized. "What do you want?"
Rhea descended the wheelhouse steps, keeping her voice low as she drew near. "All these lions and wolves busy snapping at each other...yet we could make them bow and beg, you and I."
Her words washed over me. Was she proposing we join forces? The thought was outlandish, yet strangely compelling. Together we could change the shape of everything to come.
"Think on it," Rhea murmured, brushing past me toward the campfires now flickering to life in the fading dusk.
I watched her disappear into the throngs of soldiers and servants. A serving girl passed by me to climb the wheelhouse steps, and the smells of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted from the distant cookfires.
Yet I had lost my appetite. Rhea's words haunted me as I made my way slowly back to camp. Could she be trusted? I wasn't sure. But I knew I must soon decide where my fate lay - with wolves or lions.
The towering Red Keep cast its crimson shadow across King's Landing as our procession passed through the city gates. I gazed up at the great castle, with its massive curtain walls and looming drum towers. This would be our home now, for better or worse.
The wagons and wheelhouses clattered noisily over the cobblestone streets while smallfolk peered from windows and doors to catch a glimpse of the new royal arrivals. Arya watched wide-eyed beside me, her nose wrinkling at the scents of sewage, spices, and sweat mingling in the crowded streets.
"The Red Keep is smaller than I imagined," she proclaimed loudly.
Septa Mordane shot her a stern look. "Hush now, child."
Arya slumped back sullenly in her seat as our wheelhouse groaned up Aegon's High Hill. But she was right - compared to the sprawling towers of Winterfell, the Red Keep seemed less grand. Still, an aura of mutable danger hung over these red walls, a silent threat I did not remember from my first life.
We passed under the raised portcullis into the outer yard. Squares of lawn and gardens spread out before the looming bulk of Maegor's Holdfast. Guards hurried forth to escort the royals and highborn guests into the castle.
I caught a glimpse of towering Ser Gregor Clegane dragging a chained and battered Jaime Lannister toward the dungeons. Nearby, Sandor Clegane roughly escorted Queen Cersei toward her quarters. Her once-regal face was now etched with grief and rage.
Before I could reflect further, a hand grasped my shoulder. I turned to see the stern face of the king. "Best keep your eyes ahead, boy," Robert cautioned in a lowered voice. His thick black beard could not hide his own solemn expression.
We were ushered through vast, torch-lit halls and chambers, each more lavishly furnished than the last with ornate tapestries, gilded trimmings, and elaborate rugs from faraway lands I had only heard about in my first life.
At last we reached the tower that would house myself and my family. "Get yourselves settled," King Robert instructed. "We'll speak more tomorrow." He gave my shoulder a paternal squeeze before departing down the shadowy corridor, his Kingsguard trailing close behind.
I stood at the arched window of my new bedchambers, gazing out at the city below where folk scurried about like ants. Somewhere down there, hidden behind a merchent's stall or watching from a darkened alley, did Rhea wander? I wondered if she had arrived or still journeyed on the Kingsroad.
A soft knock interrupted my brooding. Arya poked her head in, already changed out of her travel clothes. "Come see!" she said, grabbing my hand.
She led me higher up the tower steps to a small wooden door. It opened with a push, and we stepped out onto the flat rooftop overlooking the sea. A cool wind tousled our hair.
"We're so high up! Look, you can see the whole city," Arya exclaimed, leaning recklessly over the crenelated edge.
I gently pulled her back. "Yes, but be careful. And don't go telling Sansa about this place."
Arya rolled her eyes dramatically. I bit back a smile. Some things never changed no matter what world we lived in.
We watched the crimson sun sink lower toward the shimmering waters of Blackwater Bay. I wondered what plots were unfolding down below to threaten our family now that we were snared in the viper's nest of King's Landing. But up here, just for a moment, all seemed peaceful.
The echoing peal of iron bells jolted me from my thought. "Come," I told Arya. "Time to get ready for the feast."
She grimaced but followed without complaint as we descended back into the shadows of the Red Keep. Torches lit our way to the Tower of the Hand where our family's quarters lay. But an uneasiness nagged at me, like a dull blade pressed between my ribs. I could not shake the feeling that unseen dangers lurked within these walls. The game of thrones goes on, I reminded myself. And how it would end, not even Rhea will foresee.