The dim light of the inn cast long shadows on the worn floorboards as Rhaenyra scanned the room, her heart racing with anticipation. She had come all this way, braving the secret passageways and the dangers of King's Landing, all for one thing: to find Robert. But as her eyes moved over the drunken men, their faces hidden behind mugs of ale and clouds of smoke, she felt the weight of disappointment settle over her.
Robert Stronghammer was nowhere to be seen.
Rhaenyra swallowed her frustration, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from scowling. She had not come this far to turn back empty-handed. If Robert wasn't here, then she would find another way. She had to.
As she turned to leave, something—or rather, someone—caught her eye. A young boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, was darting between the tables, handing out mugs of ale to the rowdy patrons. His movements were quick and practiced, his small frame easily slipping through the chaos of the inn. But it wasn't his speed or the way he deftly avoided the drunken hands that reached for him that caught Rhaenyra's attention—it was his face.
She recognized him.
It took her a moment to place him, but then the memory came rushing back. He was the boy who had been Robert's squire during the joust, the one who had helped him with his armor, fetched his shield, and stood proudly by his side. The boy had been almost invisible in Robert's shadow, but Rhaenyra had noticed him nonetheless. She had watched him cheer for Robert after every victory, his admiration for the knight written plainly on his face.
If anyone knew where Robert was, it would be him.
Rhaenyra's pulse quickened as she moved toward the boy, careful not to draw attention to herself. She followed him as he weaved through the tables, waiting until he slipped out a back door to fetch more drinks from the storage room. When the door closed behind him, she moved quickly, slipping out after him into the small alley behind the inn.
The boy didn't notice her at first, too busy stacking mugs and grumbling to himself about the men inside. Rhaenyra crept up quietly, glancing around to make sure no one else was watching. Once she was certain they were alone, she stepped forward, pulling off the woolen cap that hid her silver hair.
"Squire," she whispered, her voice low but commanding.
The boy froze, his back stiffening at the sound of his nickname. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes widening in shock as they landed on her. For a moment, he simply stared, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"P-P-Princess Rhaenyra?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes darted around the alley, as if he expected a guard to appear at any moment and drag him away for even daring to speak to her.
Rhaenyra stepped closer, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head once more to hide her face from prying eyes. "I need your help," she said quietly, her tone urgent but gentle. She didn't want to scare the boy off, not when he was her only lead. "You're Robert's squire, aren't you?"
Tyson swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "Y-yes, Your Grace," he stuttered. "I-I was, at the joust. But I'm not—he's not—" He seemed to struggle with his words, still overwhelmed by the fact that the crown princess was standing before him in the dingy alley.
Rhaenyra cut him off, holding out a small pouch of coins that she had tucked away in her cloak. "I'm looking for him," she said. "Robert Stronghammer. I know he's in King's Landing, and I need to find him. Help me, and these coins are yours."
Tyson's eyes flicked to the pouch, his expression shifting from shock to something more calculating. He hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Alright," he said, his voice steadying. "I can take you to him."
Rhaenyra let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Good," she said, tucking the pouch back into her cloak. "Lead the way."
Without another word, Tyson turned and started down the narrow alley, his small frame moving swiftly through the shadows. Rhaenyra followed close behind, her heart racing with both excitement and nerves. This was it—she was finally getting closer to Robert. But as they moved deeper into the twisting streets of King's Landing, she realized just how much she had underestimated the city.
The alleys were dark and narrow, the buildings leaning in over them like crooked old men whispering secrets. The air was thick with the smell of rotting fish and smoke, and the sound of distant shouts and laughter echoed through the night. Tyson moved quickly, slipping through the winding streets as if he had done it a hundred times before. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, struggled to keep up. Her boots clattered against the cobblestones, and more than once she had to grab onto the walls to steady herself as they rounded sharp corners.
"Where are we going?" she asked after what felt like an eternity of winding through the maze of streets.
Tyson glanced over his shoulder, his expression serious. "There's a place he likes to go," he said. "Not too far now. Just keep close."
Rhaenyra nodded, though her legs were already aching from the effort of keeping up with the boy's relentless pace. She had never seen this side of King's Landing before—the dark, hidden alleys where the common folk lived their lives, far from the glittering halls of the Red Keep. It was both thrilling and terrifying, and Rhaenyra found herself wondering how Robert had come to know these streets so well.
After what felt like an eternity, Tyson finally slowed, leading her to a small, rundown building at the edge of a quiet street. The sign above the door was worn and faded, but Rhaenyra could just make out the image of a crossed hammer and sword.
"This is it," Tyson whispered, stopping just outside the door. "He comes here sometimes. I don't know if he's inside, but if he's in King's Landing, he'll show up sooner or later."
Rhaenyra's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the door. She had come this far—there was no turning back now.
"Thank you," she said softly, pressing the pouch of coins into Tyson's hand. The boy nodded, slipping the pouch into his tunic before darting off into the shadows without another word.
Rhaenyra took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever awaited her inside. She reached for the door, her hand trembling slightly as she pushed it open.
The dim light of the apartment greeted her, along with the low murmur of voices and the clatter of mugs. She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of Robert. And then, in the far corner, sitting alone at a table with a tankard of ale in his hand, she saw him.
Robert Stronghammer.
Her breath caught in her throat as she took him in. He looked different here, away from the formalities of court life. More relaxed, but no less imposing. His broad shoulders and strong arms still made her heart race, and for a moment, she hesitated. She had come all this way—what now?
The dirty streets of King's Landing had done little to prepare Rhaenyra for what she would find inside Robert Stronghammer's secret hideout. From the outside, the building looked as unremarkable as any of the crumbling structures in this poorer part of the city, but as she stepped through the door, her breath caught in her throat.
Lavish tapestries hung from the walls, their intricate designs illuminated by the soft glow of golden candle holders. The scent of expensive incense filled the air, and plush velvet cushions were scattered across the low seating area. It was a stark contrast to the dingy streets outside, a hidden oasis of wealth and power amidst the chaos of King's Landing.
And standing in the center of it all was Robert Stronghammer.
He turned at the sound of the door closing behind her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, there was silence between them, the tension thick enough to cut with a sword. Then, a slow smile spread across Robert's face as he took a step toward her, his powerful frame moving with the ease of a man who was completely at home in his surroundings.
"Princess," he greeted her, his voice deep and smooth. "I wasn't expecting you."
Rhaenyra felt her cheeks flush under his gaze, but she quickly composed herself, raising her chin slightly as she met his eyes. "I wasn't expecting to find you here, either," she replied, glancing around the luxurious room. "This is… quite the establishment."
Robert chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "A man in my position needs a place to conduct certain affairs away from prying eyes. This place serves its purpose."
Rhaenyra arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "And what sort of affairs would those be?"
Robert's smile widened, and he took another step closer, closing the distance between them. "The kind that require privacy," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.
For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with electricity, the unspoken attraction that had lingered between them since their last meeting simmering just beneath the surface. Rhaenyra felt her heart race in her chest, but she wasn't here just for flirtation. There was more at stake now.
"I've been thinking about you," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ever since that kiss..."
Robert's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a look of surprise. "Have you now?" he asked, his voice low.
Rhaenyra nodded, stepping closer to him. "It's because of me that you're not still rotting in the dungeons," she continued. "I made sure my father didn't punish you for what happened."
Robert's eyes widened in surprise. "You did that?"
"I did," Rhaenyra confirmed. "I couldn't let him hurt you. Not after what we shared."
Robert's expression softened, and for the first time since she had entered, Rhaenyra saw something vulnerable flicker in his eyes. It was gone just as quickly, replaced by the confident, commanding presence he wore like armor, but it was enough to make her heart skip a beat.
"You have no idea what that means to me," Robert said quietly, his gaze intense. "But you must understand, Princess… we're playing a dangerous game."
Rhaenyra's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with defiance. "I'm not afraid," she said firmly. "I've been thinking about what we could be. You and I… we could be something more. Together."
Robert's eyes darkened, and for a moment, he looked conflicted. "I've never been one to fear the Targaryens," he admitted, his voice gruff. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't cautious now. This isn't just about us, Rhaenyra. If we were to run away together, if we defied your father and the throne... the dragons wouldn't be far behind."
Rhaenyra flinched at the mention of dragons, the weight of her family's legacy pressing down on her shoulders. She knew he was right. The Targaryens didn't take lightly to betrayal, and their dragons ensured that no one could escape their wrath for long.
But still… she couldn't shake the feeling that Robert was different. He wasn't like the courtiers who flattered and fawned over her at every opportunity. He wasn't like the knights who tried to win her favor with hollow words and empty promises. Robert was real. He was strong, confident, and unafraid to challenge her.
And she wanted him.
"Then what do we do?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "Do we just forget about this? About us?"
Robert's gaze softened as he stepped even closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of silver hair away from her face. "I don't want to forget," he murmured. "But we have to be smart about this. We can't risk everything on a whim, no matter how much we might want to."
Rhaenyra swallowed hard, her heart aching at the thought of letting him go. But deep down, she knew he was right. The world they lived in wasn't kind to those who defied the crown, and they would both pay the price if they weren't careful.
After a long, painful silence, Robert sighed, his hand dropping to his side. "I'll help you get back to the Red Keep," he said, his voice laced with regret. "It's safer that way—for both of us."
Rhaenyra's throat tightened, but she nodded, knowing that there was no other choice. "Alright," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
With that, Robert turned and led her toward a hidden door at the back of the room. Beyond it lay a narrow passage that led to the secret tunnels beneath King's Landing, the same tunnels Rhaenyra had used to find her way here.
As they walked in silence, Rhaenyra's mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and longing. She hadn't expected to feel this way about Robert, hadn't expected to be so drawn to him. But now that she was, she couldn't ignore the pull he had over her.
When they finally reached the entrance to the cave, Robert stopped, turning to face her. His eyes were dark, his expression unreadable.
"Be careful, Princess," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "The dragons may not be the only thing that burns you."
Rhaenyra felt a lump form in her throat as she stared up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to say something, to tell him that she would find a way for them to be together. But the words wouldn't come.
Instead, she nodded, turning to leave.
As she disappeared into the tunnel, Robert watched her go, his heart heavier than it had been in a long time. He had never been one to fear the Targaryens, but now, more than ever, he realized that wanting Rhaenyra was a dangerous game.
And yet, despite the danger, he wanted her all the same.
Author's Note:
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