Motion

As the morning sun began to rise, a delicate veil of white fog drifted across the city, creating an enigmatic atmosphere.

In the lower courtyard, Ser Ryam stood with a stern brow, demanding,

"Again!"

My cousin, Laenor Valaryon, gripped his wooden sword, and with a defiant glint in his eye, he approached me slowly.

I narrowed my eyes, waiting for his strike like a cobra.

"Rah!" Laenor sang his battle cry, swinging down with his wooden sword. His movements were too big and theatrical, making his intentions clear.

I parried with ease before landing a brutal front kick into Laenor's solar plexus. He fell to his knees, coughing up spit and struggling to breathe.

From the battlements above, my father and Lord Corlys watched the scene unfold.

Lord Corlys smiled, "This pleases me greatly, Your Grace. Boys who sail together, knock each other overboard, rescue each other from the current... It will certainly form a lifelong bond."

"That is the hope. Though I fear my son has no restraint..."

"Nor will his enemies, Your Grace. It is better this way," Lord Corlys replied.

I offered Laenor a helping hand, "My bad."

Laenor stifled his coughs, never wanting to appear weak in front of me. As he took hold of my hand, a mischievous twinkle in his eye emerged, and he suddenly pulled me down to the ground.

We tussled, laughing and rolling around in the dirt, which was still damp with morning dew.

Our fancy clothes were soon caked in mud, but we didn't care as we continued to playfully grapple and rough house.

Ser Ryam's neck veins bulged as he roared, "Enough!"

His thunderous voice would normally be enough to sort Laenor and me out in a heartbeat. However, this time, we stopped due to a sudden messenger riding into the lower courtyard with panic.

"Lord Commander!" the messenger said.

"What is it?!" Ser Ryam quaked. It was not fair of him to snap at the messenger. "Can't you see I'm busy?!"

"It's urgent, my Lord. There are troubling reports from our patrols."

Ser Ryam grunted, "The Kingswood, I take it.

My ears twitched. This is why I should attend more small council meetings… "The Kingswood?"

Father and Lord Corlys came down to the lower yard, "What is the trouble?"

The messenger fell to his knees, his face twisted with horror.

"Your Grace!" he gasped out, "The poachers have made it impossible to pass through the Kingswood. Their depravity has escalated to new levels. Our patrols stumbled upon a ghastly sight."

"Lord Hyland Buckler's wife and daughter were returning to Bronzegate with an escort of 24 men… We found them all slain. Lady Buckler's limbs were spread about, and their daughter's defiled body was nailed to a tree stump."

I witnessed an uncommon display of anger from my father. He appeared disgusted with Ser Ryam, saying, "I thought you had this under control!"

Ser Ryam stood upright but with a sheepish demeanor, his hands clasped behind his back like a noble, while his head hung with shame.

"Up until last night, we did, Your Grace," Ser Ryam replied.

"And last night, a lady of the realm was murdered, and his daughter was raped! How did it come to this?!" My father's rage was palpable. It was evident that he had ridden Balerion the Black Dread in the past. The fire of House Targaryen still raged in his chest.

"Ser Ryam!" my father barked, "I charge you with apprehending these criminals and bringing them to justice. You must not return empty-handed."

Ser Ryam bowed respectfully. "At once, Your Grace."

I had witnessed Ser Ryam participate in tournaments and sparring matches many times, but never in actual combat.

"Father!" I exclaimed with fervor. The heat of my King's fury had ignited a flame within me. "Please allow me to serve as Ser Ryam's squire. I am ready. I know I am."

Laenor quickly rushed to my side and knelt before my father and Lord Corlys. "I want to go too, Your Grace! If Prince Rhaenar is going, I can't stay behind!"

My father hesitated before using his pacifying voice, which he often did when denying me. "Rhaenar, it's too dangerous..."

I shook my head.

"Grandfather Baelon punched Balerion when he was only 10. King Maegor was already unhorsing boys four to five years his senior at the age of 12. Please, Father. You cannot keep protecting me forever. Besides, this drama is so close to home that it seems like fate!"

My father pondered my words. "Fate..."

Seizing the opportunity, Lord Corlys interjected with a chuckle. "Prince Rhaenar is correct, Your Grace. This is the perfect opportunity to put their training in motion."

A wave of excitement overtook me. "See? Lord Corlys agrees!"

However, Lord Corlys raised his hand. "Hold on. I will only grant my son permission to go so long if Ser Ryam approves."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What does Ser Ryam's opinion have to do with anything?"

"Ser Ryam knows better than anyone if Laenor is capable," Lord Corlys replied.

My father was in a predicament. He typically gave in to Rhaenyra's and my trivial demands, but when our safety was at risk, he faltered.

As a parent, it was his duty to take care of us. Furthermore, if anything happened to us, mother would have his head...

My father had a difficult decision to make. If he denied my request now, I would never let it go.

For months, I would play the entitled prince card, moping and sulking until he finally relented. It was a trick I had learned from my sister, although it didn't work as well now that I was growing up and had more manly features.

As such, the Commander of the Kingsguard was my father's only hope at stopping me from going on the mission.

"Yes… That's right. Ser Ryam, what say you on the matter? Is the Prince ready?" my father asked.

I looked to Ser Ryam with anticipation, nodding 'YES!' very slightly. He knew it was time for me to flourish.

I could not see behind me, but I suspected my father was shaking his head with a 'NO!'.

Finally, I gave Ser Ryam a glare that guaranteed I'd make his life a living hell, much more than my father ever could.

"… He was born ready, Your Grace," Ser Ryam replied, knowing the gravity of the responsibility he just put on himself.

"Yahoo!" I jumped, punching a fist to the sky, "Then it's decided! Get your gear, Laenor. Let's hunt some poachers!"

Ser Ryam snapped into a war-like mission-oriented mode, "Not so fast!" he shouted, "If you two are coming, there are going to be rules. Any failure to follow them will result in your escort back to the Red Keep!"

Laenor and I begrudgingly acquiesced with a simultaneous, "Fine..."

Ser Ryam launched into a lengthy twenty-minute monologue, seemingly trying to overwhelm me with the many responsibilities that come with being a squire.

He attempted to scare me straight with a laundry list of duties, including polishing his armor, mending his garments, sharpening his swords, and even preparing his meals.

"Who knows," he joked, "you might even have to carry me on your back!"

But I was undeterred by the challenge. "I wouldn't have it any other way," I replied eagerly.

Laenor and I quickly set about preparing our packs, excited for the adventure ahead.

Meanwhile, Lord Corlys watched on with a warm chuckle. He could see it on my father's face how he was thinking

'How in seven hells am I going to explain this to Aemma?!'