Ser Arthur Dayne
After no more than an hour standing guard outside the apartments, Prince Rhaegar and Ser Barristan turned the corner on the long hallway of the Rock's wing where the king and the prince were staying.
Unlike smaller castles where the lord was expected to temporarily cede his own apartments if the king was in residence, particularly if the guest rooms were not sufficient for attending such guests, Casterly Rock had a dedicated wing that sat on the same level of the mountain as the lord's own on its eastern face.
He had heard the king had almost demanded to be housed in the lord's apartments anyway, only to be convinced otherwise by Queen Rhaella right before he left King's Landing. After last night, Arthur thought it wouldn't have mattered much had the king followed through with demand.
The two approached the rooms quickly.
Despite being awake the entire night, Ser Barristan Selmy still carried himself with the of a kingsguard. Eyes firm and watchful, back straight, right hand never too far away from his sword.
Their greeting was a simple, deep nod, one of respect between peers who were not necessarily friends, and he took charge of the prince's safety once they were inside his apartments and Ser Barristan retired to rest in the room beside.
As soon as they stepped through the threshold, Prince Rhaegar let out a heavy sigh and sprawled onto a cushioned bench that stretched twice as long as the prince was tall in the sitting room.
With him still standing by the door, it took no more than a minute until the prince relieved him of his curiosity.
"To answer your unasked question Arthur, yes, I received Lord Tywin's permission to seek out what we're after in their records."
Rolling to his side, the prince let an arm dangle from the side.
"And yes, it was as unpleasant a meeting as you are imagining it. He was in a right mood. He mentioned having another appointment after, as a way to rush me out, I'm sure, though I can only pity the fool he's meeting now if it was true. "
"I see," he said.
"Can you believe the old lion thought I was asking to see the Lannister's ledgers instead?"
Rhaegar scoffed and pushed the knuckles of both his hands against his eyes. He let out a groan.
"As if I wanted to sniff out some kind of tax corruption on his family's part. For a moment there, I thought the man would actually throw himself at me from across the table. As a man who prides himself on his taciturnity, it was quite odd seeing him just barely control himself."
Arthur frowned. "I should've been with you, my prince."
"Barristan was."
"He is not me."
"Yes, that he's not," the prince allowed, "but he is the Bold."
Arthur simply nodded.
He trusted Ser Barristan with the prince's safety more than anyone besides himself. Though he knew that, with Dawn in hand, even the great Barristan Selmy would falter before him.
And that said more about Ser Barristan's skills than his own, that he needed a star-heart sword to defeat him. The Bold was not the greatest living knight for no reason.
Rhaegar let out another sigh and rose. He crossed the large, gold-embroidered rug in a few steps and stepped into his bedroom.
Arthur stepped further into the apartment itself, standing by a corner where he could watch both doors at once. He had already checked the rooms earlier before he went to guard the entrance, and Barristan and himself had swept the apartments for hidden entrances and secret alcoves like the ones found around the Red Keep on their first night here.
He doubted Lord Tywin would ever orchestrate an attempt on the royal family's in his own home despite whatever indignity the king might hurl at him. But that didn't mean others wouldn't.
There was the rustle of fabric from the room, and after another minute, the prince's voice carried through even as he took a last look in the mirror.
"But I'm making more of the encounter than it truly was. If anything, once I explained what I really wanted, I swear Lord Tywin almost seemed more insulted that I would waste his time bothering him with such a nonsense request than he did before."
"He should be honored to have a prince of the blood come to him for any question whatsoever," Arthur said.
Rhaegar laughed. "I believe Lord Tywin is quite sick of being honored by House Targaryen," he said. "He will not soon forget father's latest honor. One of many, yes, but the worst so far."
When he stepped back into the sitting room, Rhaegar was dressed in mostly black with few red accents on his sleeves and a small pin of a three-headed dragon.
The prince continued, "That was ill done by my father. Especially to his own Hand." He grimaced. "Especially to a man like Tywin Lannister."
"He is the king," Arthur said.
"That's what worries me, my friend," Rhaegar said. "The long night is coming, and father is the king."
And you are the prince, Arthur almost said, but they had agreed to never speak those words out loud, not unless they were certain no one could possibly be listening. Instead, he turned to more immediate concerns.
"Will we check the records now, or do you wish to practice riding for tomorrow?"
His mind went to the last day of the tourney, thinking of all the possibilities on how to handle the competition itself while keeping either himself or Ser Barristan beside the prince at all times. Though there was also danger in the jousting itself.
"You should've allowed me to have that mystery knight followed and his identity found. He might be someone wanting to harm you, my prince. And deaths at the joust are not unknown. A perfect excuse for a would-be assassin."
Rhaegar waved an airy hand, as if the whole tourney matter was irrelevant.
"Have the lots drawn for you to face him, then, if it makes you feel better." The prince moved to a large chest that had been set against a wall, opened it, and started going through it. "Beat him and I'll have to face only Ser Barristan or, in the case of my victory in the semi finals, the both of you."
Stopping midway through his search, he popped out of the chest and pointed a finger at him.
"And I expect you to give an honourable go at it, Arthur. You and Barristan. I spoke to him about it already. I'll not have it said the kingsguards let the prince walk his way into a tourney victory."
"Of course, my prince," Arthur said, and meant it too. Defending his charge's reputation came second only to his safety in the kingsguard's priorities.
He would not have to pull any punches during the jousting either. Arthur was a competent enough lancer that he'd never accidentally kill an opponent during a tourney. And in this case, Barristan was his better. As was the prince.
Finally, the prince came out of the chest with a small, leather-bound notebook in hand. One of his many.
"We'll go riding later if we have time," he said, even as he started leafing through the notebook. "The oldest records they have will be at the base of the maester's turret, apparently. Ser Kevan was more accommodating than his brother, and he assured me their maester, a man named Creylen, will be at our disposal for as long as we need."
"Is it wise to trust the Lannister's maester with this, my prince?"
Rhaegar looked up at him. "Or what? He'll go around saying the crown prince has a passing curiosity on old legends about the long night and the age of heroes?" He grinned. "The lords will rise in revolt, I'm sure. Perhaps Tywin will lead them."
With a nod, he conceded the point. Most who heard of the knowledge they were after would laugh away such a thing, but Arthur knew better.
That first hour-long ancient memory still haunted him. The first Sword of the Morning wielding Dawn against scores of half-rotten dead men, snow blowing in drifts all around them. And in the heart of the blizzard, half-hidden in shadow, an otherworldly being of ice and death, bringing a cold so deep it left Arthur with a fever for nearly a week when he woke up.
He would not forget it. Not for as long as he lived.
xxx
We're at 275 Power Stones. If we get to 375, I'll drop another chapter today.
Read ahead if you want. Chapters on [PATREON] are longer than on Webnovel. Patreon is 10 chapters ahead, which is roughly equivalent to 20-25 Webnovel chapters.
patreon(dot)com/pathliar