The Crownlands ― Kingswood…
Rhaenyra continued to gallop as far and fast as she could on her horse. Despite the calls from behind, the princess remained steadfast to be as far from the main camp as possible. Navigating through the trees, steering clear from the dirt path, she diverted from the traditional course and proceeded deeper into the kingswood.
"Princess, wait!" Criston continued to call out to her mid-pursuit. Being a soldier before donning the white cloak, the Kingsguard knight was determined to ensure her safety. However, there was a part of him that suspected something was troubling the princess. Perhaps it was his naiveté, but he couldn't just leave her alone like this. Gripping the reins of his horse, Criston moved to pick up the pace. Faster, closer, predict Rhaenyra's next moves… "Princess, slow down!" he called again. "Hyah, hyah, hyah!" Faster, faster, Criston moved his horse to the left until he finally caught up with Rhaenyra. "Princess!"
"No!" Rhaenyra shouted in protest.
Reaching out with his right hand, Criston grabbed the reins of Rhaenyra's horse, forcing both animals to come to a stop in front of a nearby lake. "Whoa, whoa, now!" he steadied both horses as they anxiously neighed. Taking a moment to catch their breaths, Criston figured now was the time to figure out what was troubling the princess. "What happened back there?" he asked as he removed his helm.
"My father… tried selling me off to Jason Lannister," Rhaenyra answered breathlessly. "Was… was my role in this society only made so that I might only further raise the standing of a Lord of Casterly Rock?"
"Do you want me to kill him?"
"Wha…? Pfft! Ha ha ha ha!"
Criston's humorous gesture seemed to help Rhaenyra relax and put her in a much better mood.
"Well, well… what have we here?" a voice called out.
Instinctively, Criston turned in the direction with his sword out ready to defend the princess from whoever approached. To their surprise, it was merely Daemon who stepped out from behind the trees, sheathing Dark Sister.
"Uncle? What are you doing here?" Rhaenyra seemed surprised to see Daemon.
"I should be the one asking you that, though I needn't have bothered," Daemon countered. "But if you must know, I was hunting. Well, I was hunting… until a sudden stampede scared off my prey." He glanced at Rhaenyra and Criston. "Imagine my surprise when I find it was none other than you two. Rhaenyra and Ser Crispon Coil."
"Ser Criston Cole," Criston corrected.
Rhaenyra placed a steady palm on the Kingsguard's shoulders. "He's just doing it simply to get a rise out of you. Hang around with us long enough and you'll eventually learn to get used to it," she reassured Criston. "Sparo sia arghugon, kepus? (What were you hunting, uncle?)" she asked her uncle in High Valyrian.
"Iā qryldes. Iā rōva mēre. Se arghuryssiatolī paez gierūltan ūbrie sīr nykēla istan naejot. (A pig. A big one. The huntsmen were too slow in getting ready, so I went ahead.)" Daemon answered.
"Ao dōrī sia mēre dēmatan vasīr. (You never were one to sit still.)" Rhaenyra glanced to see Criston looking at both of them, oblivious as to what the conversation was about. She could see the confusion on his face. "Kōttan lo ȳdragon isse Quptenkys Ēngos? (Mind if we speak in the Common Tongue?) I'm afraid Ser Criston doesn't speak High Valyrian, uncle."
"Aye, of course, he doesn't."
Now noticing the language they reverted to using, Criston motioned to Rhaenyra. "We should be heading back to camp, princess. It's going to be getting dark soon," he advised.
"Aw, and ruin the fun so early?" Daemon chortled. "We're going to be out in these woods for the following weeks, hunting and catching such fine prizes. You wouldn't want to make my niece unhappy, would you?"
"He's right, Criston," Rhaenyra agreed. "Besides, it's a beautiful day. It would be a shame to waste it. Why don't you join us for a while? We could take in the kingswood."
Criston raised a curious brow at the princess's offer. A brief respite from his duties? And, of course, Daemon was staring at him suggestively. The Kingsguard was more at ease around Rhaenyra, though her uncle on the other hand was bound at some point to get under his skin. They did after all fight against each other in the tournament years ago – both in the joust and the melee, in which Criston beat Daemon. Something tells me I'm going to have my hands full…
The Kingswood ― Royal pavilion…
It was evening. The sun was setting, and the huntsmen have reported sighting an alleged white hart nearby, but it would take time for the hounds to pick up the scent to track the animal down. According to the court's Royal Huntsman, Ser Howland Sharp, the stag weighed thirty-five stone or approximately 490 pounds. A most sought-after prize, to be sure, is what some of the hunters gathered would be seeking. If they could catch the rare white hart, it would make a fascinating trophy as they are seen as a symbol of royalty, often considered magical.
But Viserys was having a rough morning. Being accosted by his daughter, and ignored by his eldest son, the king gulped another cup of wine. "Oh!" he groaned. How many cups was this? Three? Four? Seven hells, I think I lost track… Viserys felt his head spinning, his body felt heavy, and his cognitive functions impaired. Yes. Drunk, but who cares? All I want is some peace from all that damn politicking! The king noticed his servant pouring another round of wine into his chalice, but he didn't complain. Viserys turned to Beatrice, his second wife, and their son, Aegon. To his left was his son Aeonar, his daughter-in-law Alicent and his grandson, Jaehaerys.
"Your Grace," Jason called out to him.
Viserys, his head still heavy from the wine, turned to the Lord of Casterly Rock who approached him with a fancy, specialized red and gold spear.
"I had this forged in the Golden Gallery in honor of Prince Aegon and Prince Jaehaerys."
Viserys examined the gift closely. "It's quite a thing. A fine gift," he complimented.
"I hope it might provide the killing stroke against your white hart. The 'King of the Kingswood'. It's as if the Seven themselves have blessed this day."
Vain, boastful… why did I agree to arrange such a match in the first place? "Thank you… for your generosity."
Jason, however, continued to press his suit. "I would be honored to take the Princess Rhaenyra to wife, Your Grace," he boldly asked. "What I offer you, the crown and your daughter, is strength."
Aeonar's ears perked up at the mention of his sister's name and he turned to the arrogant Lannister lord. Alicent noticed as well, gently placing a hand on her husband's leg – but the prince kept watching and listening. Before long he silently rose from his seat. Viserys noticed, but his eyes remained on the Lord of Casterly Rock. "Do you think that House Targaryen wants for strength?" The king inquired, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
"If someone offered you more dragons, would you not take them?"
"Do you have dragons to offer?"
"Casterly Rock is a splendid seat. Rhaenyra may take her place there by my side without shame and feel herself well-compensated for her loss in station."
All right, that's enough out of you. "'Well-compensated'?" Aeonar made his presence known, his eyes darkened, and his voice was composed, yet with a hint of displeasure. "'Loss in station'? Tell us, Lord Jason, just what would my sister gain in the long term aside from lowering herself to being presented as a mere object to be paraded about through the bars of a gilded cage and placed on a shelf to be dusted only when necessary, like a porcelain doll? Is that what Rhaenyra is to you?"
Jason was startled, now realizing the crown prince was behind him. "I only meant that―"
"Oh, but you did. Your pompous behavior and poor choice of words simply speak volumes about your character, Lord Jason, that what you offer does not benefit House Targaryen in any way, shape, or form, but are instead conducted merely in the act of self-interest. It's disrespectful."
"W-Well, many of us had assumed―"
Viserys, seemingly soberer, appeared inclined to agree. "'Many of us', you say?" he interrogated angrily, his paternal instincts kicking in. "Have your bannermen also seem intent on degrading and humiliating my daughter for their amusement?"
"N-No, of course not, Your Grace," Jason shook his head nervously.
"It is your sworn duty to report rebellion stirring in my kingdom."
"Rebellion? There's been nothing of the sort, Your Grace. I, I―"
"You're annoying the king. Every breath you draw in my presence is annoying me," Aeonar was quick to pounce. "It is your sworn duty, as Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Warden of the West, to not only quell such rebellion but to also prevent such treasonous talk amongst your bannermen, not foment it. You don't enter the dragon's lair unless you're looking for trouble."
Viserys joined in. "All the lords of the kingdom would do well to remember that," he dismissed. "Thank you… for the gift."
"And don't bother us again… Lord Jason," the prince warned silently.
Feeling the glaring eyes of the king and crown prince burning into him, Jason lowered his head in humiliation before turning around to leave the pavilion. Viserys and Aeonar merely watched him depart before turning their sights toward each other.
"That man's pride has pride," Viserys sighed.
"Father, that was a terrible idea and you know it," Aeonar replied. He glanced over his shoulder to see Beatrice quickly diverting her gaze, but he could see a small smirk before it disappeared. Yeah, I know it was you who put him up to this, Beatrice. Don't think I'll ever let that slide. His eyes turned again to Viserys, glancing down at his father's left hand to notice two fingers on the glove were flattened and unflexed compared to the other appendages. It wasn't long before he noticed they were missing. Amputated. Keep cutting yourself on the Iron Throne so much and you risk getting an infection.
"Aeonar, have you seen Rhaenyra?"
"No." Why do you care about her after putting her through that?
"Excuse me, Your Grace," Alicent arrived with Jaehaerys.
Viserys smiled. "Ah, there he is," he laughed. "Two years old, and already he's getting so big."
"Yes, he is. He's so happy to see his grandfather on this marvelous day."
"Oh, is he now? What a thoughtful notion, my grandson! Such a good boy. Aren't you? Yes. Yes, you are."
Jaehaerys babbled and giggled playfully as Viserys gently pressed against his grandson's nose.
"Wine," Viserys reached with his cup.
You're drunk. "That's quite enough," Aeonar refused, blocking the servant.
Alicent noticed the way the king was looking at them. "What Aeonar means, Your Grace, is that with the amount of wine, you would be in no condition for when the hunt begins. We don't wish to see you getting hurt in an accident," she advised.
"That's… that's very thoughtful, Alicent. Thank you," Viserys conceded.
By then, Otto returned to the pavilion and sat next to the king. "The huntsman has the trail, Your Grace, and has sent out the hounds." He informed. "It won't be long now until the white hart is cornered. Your prize is within reach." Otto then noticed his daughter and son-in-law. "But I couldn't help but notice Lord Jason being seated in a cloud of shame. I take it his proposal did not go so well?"
Alicent shook her head. "No, father," she replied.
"I expected as much. Still, His Grace is not only Aeonar's and Rhaenyra's father, Alicent, but he's also their king. They'll do as he commands."
Aeonar turned to Otto, staring at his father-in-law with indignation.
"It is not my wish to command any of my children, Otto," Viserys voiced his opinion. "I… I just want them to be happy. Aeonar and Alicent have started their own family, beginning the next chapter in their lives. Rhaenyra, well…"
Does it look like I'm happy right now, father?
Otto sat beside Viserys, deep in thought. By then, he had an alternative suggestion. "There is another choice beyond Casterly Rock." He slowly leaned close to whisper. "One, perhaps, you might be more comfortable with. One… closer to home."
"Who do you have in mind?" Viserys asked.
Alicent watched both her father and father-in-law fixating their gaze in a particular direction in the pavilion. For a while, there was silence. But it wasn't until she heard Aeonar was the first to break that silence.
"You can't be serious," Aeonar realized.
Alicent then turned to her husband, then to Viserys and Otto. Upon hearing her husband's words, it finally dawned on her what her father was implying. "Father!" she silently gasped.
"Prince Jaehaerys," Otto suggested.
Aeonar bit his tongue. He wanted to protest but remained silent. A marriage proposal between his sister Rhaenyra and his son Jaehaerys? Aunt and nephew? It would be in line with House Targaryen's ancient traditions of keeping their Valyrian bloodlines pure through incestuous marriages and be accepted throughout the Seven Kingdoms per the Doctrine of Exceptionalism, yes. Still, compared to his father's earlier rejection of Laena Velaryon when the issue was first proposed, the issue of a sixteen-year age gap would come into play again. Refusing outright would make him look like a hypocrite. So Aeonar simply waited.
Viserys realized what his Hand was proposing, especially after hearing his son and daughter-in-law's statements as well as reading the look on their faces. "The boy just turned two, Otto," he pointed at their grandson.
"Yes, but it would cease the endless proposals for Rhaenyra's hand," Otto advised. "Betroth them. Not only that, but it would mend the rift within the royal family."
"I came here to hunt… not to be suffocated by all this fucking politicking."
"You are the king. You knew that would happen ever since the Great Council decided for you fourteen years ago," Aeonar finally voiced his opinion. "We don't get to choose our destiny. So, I think you don't have much of a choice in the matter, as we all have."
Otto sensed the uneasy tension. "Let us speak no more of it," he conceded.
"Yes, father-in-law. Let's not." Aeonar agreed before leaving. Alicent and I will decide what is best for our son. Your advice is welcomed, but we have the final say.
"Sorry for that, Your Grace. Father," Alicent bowed apologetically as she returned to the noble ladies gossiping nearby.
The Kingswood ― Grand Hunt Main Camp…
Nightfall had befallen the main camp. While campfires remained ablaze, Aeonar stepped out of his tent dressed in the proper garments needed to blend in with the darkness. It was the same regalia he wore during the invasion of Bloodstone: a black robe, and leather tunic covered with a shirt of black scales which in turn was protected by a single breastplate, graves on his shins, and draconic gauntlets on his hands. The prince inspected each of the gauntlet's carbon steel on the tip of each finger. Still sharp. Aside from the other unnecessary pieces of armor he had to discard to prevent weighing him down, Aeonar opted to specialize in stealth. The silent approach. But first, he had to check his surroundings.
There were potential routes for him to take: the main route was too exposed, so that was out of the question. Kingsguard knights led by Ser Harrold Westerling were stationed at the pavilion, so their eyes and ears were on the lookout. Men-at-arms sworn to House Targaryen carried out routine patrols, so the prince couldn't remain hidden for long. He had to be on the move, but Aeonar was confident his Lykirī Mēre training would muffle the sound of his footsteps. No one would see or hear him coming unless he wished it.
"Stepping out already?" Alicent appeared from their tent, whispering to keep her voice quiet.
"It's time," Aeonar confirmed. "Rhaenyra and Ser Criston haven't reported back, but then again, neither has Daemon." His eyes surveyed the landscape. "The trees provide excellent cover, as does the dense underbrush. They couldn't have gotten far." He turned back to Alicent. "How fares our son?" he asked.
"He's fast asleep. My handmaidens tucked him in. I must admit, I hadn't expected His Grace or father to propose such a match."
"Neither did I, but I'm not surprised either. In a sense, it would strengthen the family and keep our Valyrian blood pure."
"Please tell me you're not considering it?"
"I'm not considering anything. Jaehaerys is our son, and we both have an equal say in how we raise him. Besides, there are other ways to get what we want."
"What do you suggest?" Alicent inquired.
"The same as I always believed: a match between one of our own with that of the Sea Snake's," Aeonar replied. "Since Beatrice messed everything up, we've had to make some slight adjustments. I believe Lord Strong will no doubt propose the same reasoning with the king later."
"But my love, don't you think it would be easier to broach the subject with your father instead of relying on Lord Strong as a middleman?"
"What do you mean?"
"Aeonar, you and the king have been estranged for a long time. I know that you two have had your differences in the past, but none of it needs to be this way in truth. Talk to him, my love. Talk to your father, at least try to mend the rift. We're a family."
"Alicent," Aeonar turned to her, "I get what you're trying to do, but what you're asking for is nearly impossible. There's too much distrust."
"Aeonar."
"Even if things were forgiven, they cannot be forgotten. Not for having my advice be tossed aside times beyond counting, but for an obsession that killed my mother. There's no way I'll ever forget that. So please, for the love you have for me, do not bring this up again."
I… see now wasn't the best time to ask. But I can't let this go on forever. Perhaps some other time we can try again. "I'm sorry. I only wanted to help."
Aeonar sighed. "I know, Alicent. I know. And I'm sorry if that sounds cold, but I'm just not yet ready to forgive." He heard the faint sound of horns blowing. "Listen, I have to go find Rhaenyra. But please wait for me until I get back, understand?"
"Just be safe out there, my love."
"I will."
Giving Alicent one peck on the lips, Aeonar turned around and set off on his mission while Alicent returned to their tent. Pulling up his hood, Aeonar then brought up the cloth fabric to cover his mouth and over the bridge of his nose. Moving from cover to cover, tent to tent, the prince held his breath and muffled the sound of his footsteps to keep quiet. Quick feet, fast hands, keen eyesight, deadly precision. Detecting four guards, Aeonar hid behind another encampment before noticing a rock at his feet. Bending down, he picked it up and threw it further away. The mineral made an audible thud as it landed on the ground.
"What was that?" a Targaryen soldier turned the corner.
"Who goes there?" another called out.
Drawn by the commotion, the men-at-arms moved further away – allowing Aeonar to swiftly move deep into the kingswood. Quick feet, fast hands, keen eyesight, deadly precision. Once he was out of sight, Aeonar examined the footprints left behind by Rhaenyra's and Criston's horses earlier this morning before following the trail. It led deeper into the forest until the trail went cold. Bending down, he grasped the soil and brought it upward. Since eyesight was being hindered due to the nightfall, Aeonar sniffed the soil and perked his ears to utilize smell and sound. As he took one step forward off the path where the footprints disappeared, he felt the ground's moisture alter slightly. Aeonar smirked beneath his face mask. His sense of touch through his feet helped pick up the missing trail. "There you are…" he said quietly.
Looking up, Aeonar leaped onto the nearby tree and began climbing. His gauntlets helped maintain a firm grip on the bark, and the steel tip of his boots latched onto the tree to keep him stable as he made his way up. Once he was high enough, Aeonar looked around to the next tree beside him and jumped across. Digging in deep, Aeonar crouched and jumped to the next one. Repeatedly, the prince was on the move through the kingswood, using the darkness as cover and moonlight to show him the way. He would locate and retrieve Rhaenyra Targaryen, willing or not. But there were still things he needed to clear with his sister first.