Chapter 5: Arrivals

The sound of snapping twigs drew the attention of predators. Crouching upon blades of spring grass, Maegor was the apex predator. Blood of the dragon, the ten and three Prince armed with the finest of bows and steel-tipped arrows, he gingerly stepped forward with expert woodsmanship. His ears were peeled for the location of the noise, heart thumping with elation at the chase.

At the hunt. The proper game for a dragon at peace.

His childhood frame dodging and weaving through the brambles and brush once again growing green with life - though the first muscles much like his father began to sculpt themselves through his labors - Maegor gently pushed aside a group of leaves to reveal the source of the sound. A large doe, snout poking through the leaf litter for fresh shoots. While not a buck, it was much bigger than normal and would be a fine hide for the tanners of Winterfell castle. A good head to mount on his wall and earn favor with the young maidens.

"Found something, your Grace?"

Maegor turned his head to see Allard Poole, the son of the Winterfell Steward. He was two years his senior, but both deferent and mindful not to hurt the hunt by speaking above a murmur. Maegor nodded, gesturing to the doe. Slowly, he pulled the barbed arrow from his quiver.

Another patter of broken twigs or crumbled leaves registered. "Ah shit," mumbled Poole, a newborn fawn emerging from the underbrush. But Maegor nocked the arrow. "What are you doing?"

"Getting our midday meal," whispered the Prince. If he killed the mother first, then the fawn would be too confused to race off and he could get them both. "Double haul."

The other boy was aghast. "You can't kill a fawning female?" But he was ignored, Maegor already drawing. Eye shut, he aimed right for the doe's heart. A perfect shot… "Stop!" Hand jerking out, Allard shoved Maegor enough for the arrow to fly off wildly - barbed tip smacking into the trunk of a tree five feet from the deer. Head jerking up, the doe immediately fled into the underbrush, fawn following on pure instinct.

Violet eyes watching his prey disappear, Maegor's blood was up. "Fucking hells! I had a perfect shot!" He shoved Allard - the younger Maegor would have included words to the effect of the crime to strike a prince, but that had been battered out of him the first few days in the North. "What's your fucking problem?!"

While his battle prowess intimidated most of the other Winterfell youths, Allard did not back down. "My fucking problem?!" He shoved Maegor back. "You were going to kill a fawning mother!" Another shove resulted in a right hook to his jaw, and soon both boys were tumbling in the underbrush - punches and kicks flying in all directions.

Allard bigger and older, Maegor though had dragonblood and the ferocity that came for it. He pinned the older boy on the ground, fists getting bloody as he delivered blow after blow. It had gone beyond the ire of a kill denied. Maegor saw red, an unbelievable anger welling up as he kept battering the poor Allard…

"Enough!" With a sharp kick, the looming form of Brandon Snow kicked Maegor off. Coughing from the blow to his gut, he coughed and sputtered until his mentor and teacher grabbed him by the gambeson. "Look at me, boy!"

Normally he was sullen and deferent to the Stark bastard, but Maegor was too livid. "He blocked my shot!"

And he got a slap for his trouble, stinging his cheek. "You never, never kill a mother with a babe! Do you hear me, you cunt?!" More slaps, joined by a punch. "Only a sadistic coward would do so! You are a Prince! You will be honorable if I have to kill you to make it stick!"

Blinking his eyes of the memory, Maegor watched as the mother brown bear led her cubs away from the stream, deeper into the woodland scrub that dotted the land west of Mole's Town. Though he had the perfect shot, he simply lowered his bow and walked away. The stewpots of Castle Black wouldn't be filled with that particular bear.

"A fool goes hungry and calls it kindness, a right cunt slaughters everything in his path and calls it superiority, a noble man feeds himself with honor and says nothing, for he has the pride of righteousness to call back on."

Brandon Snow's words after he had woken up in the office of Winterfell's maester all those years ago still stuck with him. He may have been a cold, hard bastard - literally - but the thought of his previously callous self made Maegor shudder. Gods, I was cruel.

"Hey, boy!" At the aforementioned bastard's call, Maegor shouldered the bow and trotted to where it came from. "There you are!" Brandon Snow had felled a large stag, one that clearly couldn't be carried by a single man. "Help me with this, she weighs a ton."

Smirking, the Prince grabbed at the rear and hauled it up with Lord Snow. "Knew an old, bastard ass couldn't hack it."

"Fuck you, dragon cunt." A moment passed before his lip twitched upward. Brandon Snow was cold and hard, but like a wolf he cared for his wards… if they proved themselves as Maegor did. "Let's get this to the black bastards before we freeze."

Castle Black was nothing to be proud of. What the Northmen considered a great outpost was more akin to the hive of scum and villainy that those south of the Neck regarded it as. Only general resignation to living here forever kept the rapists, thieves, and murderers in line… that and iron discipline from both the lifers and the volunteers such as Lord Commander Hoare. If there was any hate he held for the family that killed his line, he did not show it, professional to the core.

With a fresh stag to supplement their rations of salt pork and hard bread, he and his mentor were the most popular figures in the keep. Even his bringing of two dozen wildlings south of the Wall was put aside with the prospect of warm bellies. Waving their knives, the stewards that served as the camp cooks managed to keep hungry men from tearing off chunks of their kill. "Got a juicy one, Snow," one said with admiration, directing several to haul it off.

"Well, that's our duty done." Brandon cracked his knuckles. "Git wherever you want, I'm headin' to Mole's Town for some lovin'." Coin liberal and face ruggedly handsome, he became a legend with the whores there.

Maegor nodded with a tiny grin. "Ever consider finding a wife, Lord Snow?"

"What name would I pass on to 'em?" he dismissed, only for his face to soften. "I suppose I consider you and young Bran like my children. Certainly gave me the grief of a brood triple your size." With that he was off, the most sentimentality he would ever offer.

"Prince Maegor!" The chief steward to the Lord Commander trotted to him, containing a ravenscroll. "Letter to you from the capitol. Seal of the King."

Eyes widening, Maegor snatched the letter and raced up to his quarters. They were the guest quarters handed to him and Bran for their use, although as of late he preferred to sneak out to the tent the wildlings set up for nights with Ralla. But such was not on his mind as he sat, breaking the royal seal to read his father's words.

My son,

I'll keep this brief. Your muna and I are flying to Winterfell with Lord Stark. We are bringing your sister, as it is time for her to take her place as the future Lady of Winterfell. I cannot wait to see how much of a man you have become.

Make sure the hearth in our room is ready.

Kepa

Letter falling to his lap, Maegor let out a breath. "So little Rhae is getting married." It was unspoken that the newfound closeness between house Stark and house Targaryen was sealed by a marriage, but his father's words made it all too real. Couldn't think of a better husband for her than Bran.

The door to their shared chambers opening, Brandon walked in holding his own ravenscroll, face a portrait of apprehension - not knowing what to think. "Your father?" Maegor asked his friend. Brandon nodded. "Getting married?"

Slightly ashen, Brandon looked up at him. "Looks like we'll be brothers for real."

"You don't seem too happy about it."

"I know you, Mag. Your sister is a mystery to me." He plopped down onto the cot opposite Maegor, groaning. "What if she's awful."

The Prince raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm her brother, right?" But he chuckled. "I see your point. Don't worry, she's not a madwoman or anything. We have a great relationship."

Brandon shook his head. "She's your sister… she has to love you." Maegor raised his eyebrow again. "Alright, you understand my argument. How she is with you is different from how she could be with me." The heir to Winterfell had heard all the stories about the Royal Family - big, juicy tidbits that any purveyor of gossip would have salivated over. Not one time did he betray Maegor's confidence, but as of now the sweet stories of the Prince's younger sister were met with paranoid skepticism. "Does she ride a dragon?"

"Yeah, a red one. Arrax I believe the name is." He remembered the last time he had been in King's Landing, how excited Rhaenys was to start her riding lessons on the dragon she had hatched at ten and three namedays. At Brandon's face lose all color, Maegor snorted. "Seven bloody hells, it'll be fine. She only has Arrax burn people she doesn't like."

That earned him a lumpy pillow tossed at his head. "Shut it."

Brandon was more of a brother to him than his own brother was.

"Don't worry about the dragons, Lady Manderly," Maegor assured the Lead Governess of Winterfell as they walked through the halls of the ancient castle. The Prince only had a light cloak of the Targaryen colors thrown about his shoulders - it still never ceased to amaze him how wonderful the hot springs underneath the keep warmed everything. Even in the dead of winter, Winterfell was merely chilly. "You won't need to worry about food too much."

Frowning, the eight and twenty Sarra Manderly shook her head. "You're telling me that three fire-breathing beasts almost the size of this keep won't eat us out of all our livestock stores? His Grace's last visit here came close to doing so, and that was only with the Black Dread."

He couldn't help but chuckle, which drew a look of ire from Lady Manderly - merely a look, because the head of the household in Jocelyn Stark's absence was quite fond of him. "Firstly, my muna's mount and sister's mount are not nearly as big." Maegor truly enjoyed teaching his northern friends the truth about Valyrians, given until he arrived most had never seen those that they were in liege to. "And secondly, they usually fly out to the oceans to feed on the massive fish there. They'll sate themselves on wild game."

Pursing her lips, Lady Manderly soon smirked. "You dragons are a queer bunch, my Prince."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Gods, I really have mellowed since coming here. The duplicitous, honeyed faces of the southern court of his parents drew back the fiery, suspicious Prince, but the Northmen were so blunt and open that he could relax his guard if not trusting anyone not his mentor or brother in all but blood. They showed their emotions and he never needed to worry about what they truly were.

As with Lady Sarra, he saw her wandering eyes drawn to his broad chest and… lower parts. Sniffed out her not so subtle flirting. She was not of the Lords of White Harbor, but rather a Karstark by birth. Her husband frittered between King's Landing and trade missions which led her to come here for the prestige and desire to flee boredom.

And almost immediately after seeing him, attempting to seduce Maegor to be her lover. Something he didn't hold as problematic in and of itself, but he always demurred.

"It is easier on me that their Grace's are foregoing the normal procession of royalty. Only a few guests to deal with, one of them being the future Lady of the Castle. I shall make sure to keep Princess Rhaenys lodged as far from Lord Brandon as possible."

Nodding at the governess' prescriptions, Maegor rubbed the back of his neck as something else came up in his mind - something… uncomfortable for him to think of. "One last recommendation, Lady Manderly. Please make sure his and her Grace are placed in the room at the farthest end of the guest wing, away from the others."

The older woman raised her pretty eyebrows in confusion. "I already planned on it given that it is the largest of all the guest chambers, but I am curious. Why must I do it?"

His cheeks reddened. "I… umm…" It wasn't often that the mighty Prince Maegor grew tongue tied or embarrassed. "My muna and kepa may be aging in their years, but are still pretty… vocal… in the bedchamber. It carries through the thickest of walls." He had the misfortune of getting the chamber directly adjacent to his parents on his last stay in King's Landing and suffered sleepless nights for it.

Though it took a moment to sink in, when it finally did Sarra's eyes widened. "Oh… um…" Blushing bright red, several seconds of sputtering passed before she composed herself enough to speak. "Well… it works out then. Wait, they really are that way?" She had heard the rumors of how his Grace only took her for duty.

"Aye. They love each other more than anyone I've seen, and I've seen Lord and Lady Stark's affections for each other." Lord Torrhen greatly loved his Reed wife. But Maegor was not keen on thinking of his parents… coupling anymore. "I believe I must retire for the evening. Goodnight, Lady Sarra."

She curtseyed, though seemingly deflated. "Goodnight, my Prince." Unfortunately for her, she wasn't closer to inviting him to her bed.

Ser Darklyn - Darkrobin as many called him - had watched over him all during the day. For nighttime, the watch outside his personal chambers was taken by a different kind of guard. "Hey girl." Sȳndor raised her head from where it rested on the ground, letting him scratch it. "She's in there, isn't she?" The direwolf bobbed her head.

Sȳndor never took watch outside the room unless Maegor had company. Tousling her black fur once more time, he opened the door and found the blonde waiting for him on the bed, hands crossed over her lap. "Took you long enough," she huffed.

He sighed, shucking off his cloak and hanging it up. "Not your husband. I can go where I want." it was gruff as was his trademark, but the two of them knew it wasn't serious. "I take it you waiting for me rather than sleeping means you want something."

"Cheeky bastard."

"And yet you're still here."

Down to her underclothes - a sleeping shift that hugged her body, one of the few 'southern' comforts the spearwife indulged in - Ralla ran a hand along the thick blanket atop Maegor's bed. "While I miss life back in the North, the damn fuckin' piles of furs aren't one of 'em."

Something, Maegor smirked. "You should sleep in the beds in King's Lansing then, much softer."

"Fuck off," she said incredulously. "Make 'em outta clouds or somethin'?"

"We may fly among the clouds, but even my family can't shape them as Rhoynish mages can water."

She snorted. "You still talk gibberish sometimes." Ralla walked to him and wrapped her arms round his neck. "But I'm gonna learn it all."

He smirked. "So you're gonna be a southerner like me?"

"Rip out your fuckin' tongue… but I plan on makin' their prick jaws drop at me."

"They already do." Maegor dipped his head and took her lips with his. His tongue pushed through to open her mouth, finding hers in a sensual duel. Pulling back for air, he frowned at her wistful expression. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Aye," she mumbled. "Ye' made me love you."

Oh, hells… Their connection since the days beyond the wall had been magnetic, but had not been love on his end. It was somewhat callous and he admitted it, but that was the reality. "I do care for you, Ralla."

"But yer' a Prince and I'm a spearwife. I fuckin' get it." She wasn't mad - Ralla accepted it with resignation. "Gonna' marry a fancy southern lady to git an alliance for your father. We can't ever truly be together… lest you run away with me. Be free like yer' wild dragons."

"I can't do that to my House."

"They say we Free Folk are savages, but we're free. Ye' southerners are savages for giving it up." Ralla rested her head on his. "But I'll always be loyal to ye'. I can't not.'

Maegor smiled wanly. "I know." Kissing her again, it soon got heated but less passionate… more sweet and desperate. "Let's not think about it."

"I'm not." She dropped her nightgown, exposing the slender body to his enjoyment. "Plan on enjoying this." Oh, so would the Prince.

"Mother… you don't have to…" Brandon groaned as Lady Jocelyn Stark began fussing over his hair, making sure it was just right. "Ow."

"Stop moving, pup," the Lady of Winterfell mused, trying to discipline the wild cowlicks of youth into something presentable. "You wish to look good for their Graces… and your new bride?"

He winced, although this time not from pain. "Please, don't remind me."

Hair already styled to perfection - at least that was what he figured, though Ralla commented he looked like a silver turd was shat on his head in her usual parlance - Maegor leaned against the wall. "Apparently the dear one believes that my sister will feed him to her dragon."

Joceyln tut tutted. "Stop being paranoid, Bran. That would cause an incident the royal family doesn't want." Brandon groaned again, which made his mother laugh. "Calm down, she'll love you. You have the classic Stark beauty of your father that seduced me long ago."

"Have mercy, mother. My stomach already churns enough."

Minutes later, all three were gathered at the van of the assembled household. The senior members of House Stark stood ahead of over a dozen visiting lords from around the North - behind were the bannermen and servants, and at the very back the wildlings Maegor brought from Castle Black. Standing with his arms at his side, Maegor hoped to introduce them to his parents, earn them lands somewhere they could ranch and till. Close to where he was, though he was sure Ralla would shun settling down and rather travel with him on his journeys.

A loud roar brought Maegor out of his thoughts - as it did for everyone, all murmurs and hushed conversations ceasing while the entire assembled household glanced skywards. Searching for the sight, one they had no familiarity with but were regaled by the stories. Some morbidly curious while others regarded their former King with jealousy at being able to see the beasts.

And there they were. Three bat-shaped shadows heralded by yet more roars, soaring high in the sky - they were small, but grew in size as a flap of their wings sent them diving. All watched with awe aside from Maegor and Lady Jocylen, who had seen them before, and Brandon Snow, who still liked to boast how he could have killed them with just his weirwood bow and arrow.

Something he was smart enough not to bring up to any dragonrider.

Eventually, the three massive dragons swooped down upon the ancient keep. Guards about the battlements and servants and lords alike flinching involuntarily as a bronzed beast - Vhagar - flew low overhead. They circled, Vhagar in front, the great bulk of Balerion the Black Dread behind, and the small, sleek form of Arrax bringing up the rear. No one doubted their King again at this sight, the folly of all that opposed the dragons self-evident in the face of these creatures.

Atop them were the dragonriders - Lord Torrhen riding astride the Black Dread as a mere passenger - crowns gracing the brows of two of them. The Targaryen King and Queen Making their entrance. One far grander than any could ever perform.

Wings beating fast and kicking up clouds of air and snow, Balerion and Vhagar landed upon the snowy ground with a rumble, hooting and snapping their jaws in the air. Arrax, being smaller, hovered overhead for a moment before landing far more gently - Princess Rhaenys eager to show her riding skills. It was then the gathered were able to catch a closer look at their monarchs - most were only familiar with Prince Maegor, and he dressed like a Stark most of the time.

The King and Queen clad in all black but with a red sash and cloak befitting their house. Infamous the world over with their distinctive twin dragon and ruby encrusted hilt's respectively, Blackfyre and Dark Sister were sheathed on their respective owner's hip. King Aegon wore his beard shaved and hair closely cropped, while Visenya's flaxen silver locks were tied in a severe braid - fierce and powerful dragons like their mounts.

Quite the contrast was Princess Rhaenys. Hair left free in the northern style, her frame was enclosed by a white coat. A less threatening figure - the future Lady of Winterfell couldn't be much else.

Plopping upon the snowfall with the dexterity of a much younger man, King Aegon I Targaryen wasn't too arrogant not to help Lord Torrhen Stark ease his way down Balerion's spines. "Not a young man anymore, Lord Torrhen?" he jested.

Still shaking from the acrobatics of their landing, Torrhen nearly collapsed as he hit the ground - knees wobbling. "I think I'll stick to horses for the time being, your Grace."

"You still have a trip back to the capitol."

"Fuck me." The King snorted with amusement.

Satisfied Torrhen wouldn't faint or puke his guts out, Aegon fought to shiver from the suddenly discovered icy chill as he walked to where Visenya scrambled down Vhagar's smaller spines. The green dragon regarded him with familiarity, and he sent a teeth-chattering smile her way. "Easy does it, Vis," he murmured only loud enough for her to hear.

"I can do it myself," she shot back. Yes she could, but there weren't many times the King could with propriety grab the beautiful Queen Visenya's rear end as he often did while they were alone. Availing himself to the opportunity - even including a little pinch for good luck - when she reached the ground a scowl shot his way. "Letcher."

Aegon shrugged. "I would apologize… if I was actually sorry."

Wry smirk slowly forming on her face, Visenya leaned in for a peck on the lips - the fire in her eyes indicating she wanted more.

"Muna… kepa." They pulled apart as a slender, irritated figure crossed her arms. "Can we please not do that?"

Visenya laughed while the King rolled his eyes. "Alright, Rhae. Come on." He found Balerion's massive head in his way, amber eyes locked on him. "Hey boy." Aegon whispered in High Valyrian as he stroked his scales. "Go rest with your sister and daughter. We'll be fine among the wolves." The Black Dread growled and with a massive beat of his wings ascended into the sky. Hooting, Vhagar and Arrax weren't far behind, leaving just the three dragonriders in the middle of the massive courtyard.

Lord Torrhen had already greeted his wife, who ignored propriety to embrace him tightly and deliver a proper marital kiss. "Welcome back, husband," she whispered in his ear. "Make this quick… I need you alone."

Brow raising at Jocylen's words, her sultry bite of the lower lip made him smile. "Good tidings come to those who wait," he responded, turning to lead the Stark household to bend the knee before their monarchs. "Your Grace, Winterfell is yours."

Tightening his cloak about him, Aegon extended his hand. "Rise." Hundreds of servants and guards stood again, many looking out in wonder at the dragons as they still circled above. The King took Jocelyn's hands in his. "Lady Stark, you're as radiant as always."

"It is a pleasure having you and your family here, your Grace. More strong women are always welcome," she replied, greeting Visenya with kisses on the cheek.

"I have a feeling that the women here can take care of themselves, well enough," replied Visenya with a grin. She always liked Northmen - they were far more egalitarian than the Andal courtiers that still gave her queer gazes when she governed alongside her husband or wore Dark Sister strapped to her belt as she did today. "And you already know Princess Rhaenys, my daughter?"

Jocelyn had been in the North for a year after five years at court, so she was familiar. "Dear Princess, you have grown into a magnificent dragonrider." Rhaenys beamed at the praise.

Several yards away, Brandon stared at the Princess with an almost slack jaw. Barely able to recover his composure even as Maegor nudged him. "Is that… is that really your sister?"

Maegor glanced sidelong at his friend with a neutral expression. "In the flesh. The future Lady of Winterfell… lest you still wish to bow out."

Brandon gulped. "Perhaps she could still hate the sight of me?" Suddenly her eyes found Brandon's, and she seemed to have a hitch in her breath before she smiled shyly. Resuming her confident posture of a Targaryen dragonrider.

"I don't think you have to worry about that." Before Maegor could continue reassuring his friend, his mother appeared in front of him. "Muna."

Queen Visenya was renown for her fierceness, much as the dragon she rode. But like Vhagar, such ferocity didn't extend to her hatchlings. "My son…" She drew him in for a tight hug, which Maegor reciprocated. "Gods, it's good to see you again."

"It's been too long, muna." He sighed into the embrace, feeling the comfort only his mother could give him.

"Anytime is too long." A persistent nuzzling of her side broke the embrace. "There you are Sȳndor. Yes, I missed you too." Maegor's furry companion had taken to his family quite well - she loved them and they her, especially when she begged for pets and scratches like a pup.

"My boy." Aegon clasped his son firmly on the shoulder. "You grow more into a man every time I see you. Just don't let people take you for a direwolf."

Maegor grinned with his father. "Believe me, no northman lets me forget I am of Valyria." That drew a laugh from his father. "I'm sure we can resume this at the feast, but may I properly greet my sister?"

Aegon nodded. "Of course, of course. Vis, let's get settled before the ass-kissing begins." All around them, many Lords of the North awaited their moments of greeting and discussion with the King and Queen. Not something either of them particularly enjoyed, but such was the burden of ruling.

No sooner did Lord and Lady Stark escort the monarchs towards the keep did the slender figure of the Princess run into Maegor's arms. "Big brother, missed you."

"Same, dear sister… though at least you have Aenys to keep you company." Rhaenys' nose wrinkled. "Problem with our brother?"

"Not him, but that bitch he married." It was no secret that Rhaenys and Alyssa Velaryon did not get along - was the open secret of court. "I vastly prefer your company, and hope the northern ladies I deal with will be more forthright."

Pursing his lips, Maegor gestured to his friend. "While I could inform you of that, perhaps it would better come from Brandon Stark, heir to Winterfell." Brandon shot him a look of ire, but clammed up with an uncharacteristic shyness as Rhaenys approached him.

"Lord Brandon." She may not have shown it, but Rhaenys was just as shy at meeting her betrothed - her handsome betrothed… "We meet at last."

"Aye, suppose we do." Rhaenys was much more reminiscent of her late aunt than her mother. Slender and shapely, the strength of her figure was hidden by a more gentle demeanor and pleasant features - that and the silver hair spilling around the white coat she wore made her look like a winter goddess. "I am pleased to meet you, and hope your stay will be comfortable."

"I hope so too, considering I am to stay here permanently." That made him blush harder, while Rhaenys giggled. When does my sister unironically giggle? "My brother says you are the man to see about life in the north. Tell me, is there some place in this keep that is warmer than here?"

A smile formed on his face. "Follow me, Princess."

Maegor was heartened as Rhae slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. We're definitely going to be brothers for real. Turned out, ice and fire weren't such a bad combination.

"This is boring."

Looking up from her book on the adventures of Gaemon Targaryen prior to the Doom of Valyria - illustrations included - Rhaena blinked at her cousin Larissa Velaryon. "Why? This is the best time of the day." Just after her courtly lessons with Lady Hightower and right before her scholarly lessons with Septon Murmison, the Princess adored just relaxing in a room with one of her many books. "You even get to read the stories of Nymeria and her thousand ships… that's a favorite of mine."

Larissa, while owning the same fair features of Old Valyria, was the exact opposite of her aunt's daughter. Groaning and falling back against the pillows of Rhaena's bed, she yearned for adventure. Always ready to run and frolic and seek out attention. "Don't you have anything fun to do? Seven hells, I'd even enjoy playing with your brother over this."

"As I said, Larissa, Egg is at his lessons and so will I need to be before the sun leaves the top of the sky. Just relax and enjoy yourself."

"There is no enjoyment in relaxing." Another groan was quickly followed by a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I have an idea…"

Rhaena knew her cousin well enough to know where this would go. "I don't end up liking what happens when you say 'I have an idea.'" It usually ended up with her banished to her room without her dinner… or covered in grime and forced to endure her nursemaids scrubbing her off as if she were her infant brother Viserys.

But nothing stopped Larissa. "No… this isn't like last time." Ending up lost in the middle of the city's blacksmith district after stealing two palfreys from the stables hadn't been Rhaena's idea of fun. "You said the sun is at the top of the sky?"

"Yes…" Rhaena remarked with unease.

"Well, I've noticed that Quicksilver always lands on the cliffs not far from here to nap for a few hours. We should go see him and pet him."

The Princess' eyes widened. "No, cousin… father and mother say never to approach the dragons without them." It had been one of their first rules said - while Aegon often tried to break them with the enthusiastic cooperation of her Aunt Rhaenys, Rhaena never broke it once. Even though she loved the winged creatures. "We can't."

"Don't be such a fuddy-duddy." Already discarding her book, Larissa hopped to her feet. "I've never gotten near a dragon before, and if Quicksilver gets mad then I have you."

"I know nothing about caring for a dragon." Her grandmother wanted to give her an egg, but Alyssa vetoed it. I'm too young and too dainty to handle a dragon yet… She parroted her mother's words in her mind.

"Fuddy-duddy!" With a laugh, Larissa ran out of the room into the hallway.

Heart pounding, Rhaena was hot on her heels. I can't believe I'm doing this. She loved her cousin… she was her closest friend not of the animal kingdom, and much of what she experienced of the wider world came from the Velaryon spitfire. Even if she does stuff like this…

"Rhaena!" She skidded to a halt, hearing the irritated tone of her mother. Oh no… I knew this would happen. "What are you doing, wandering about?" From the hallway leading to her parents' solar walked Alyssa Velaryon, frown on her face and arms crossed. "You're supposed to be at your studies… Larissa too."

"My little seamare break the rules, I am shocked," laughed Lord Daemon. Rhaena watched her uncle walk out behind her mother, muted Valyrian features and sea-green eyes much more jovial than Alyssa's. "Need your aunt have a Kingsguard assigned to you so that you behave?" It was only half-serious, teasing grin on his face.

Running to him, Larissa hugged his waist. "Sorry, poppa." She looked up at him with innocent eyes and a loving smile. "We just wanted to see Quicksilver on the cliff. I swear, we weren't gonna be gone long."

"Rhaena… you know better not to get close to your father's dragon without him present," Alyssa scolded.

She looked down at her feet, biting her lip. "Sorry, mother," Rhaena murmured almost inaudibly. Never could she act as manipulative as Larissa in order to get out of trouble.

"Easy on the poor thing, sister," uncle Daemon interjected. "I'm sure his Grace will accede once their studies are over… in fact, let's ask him now."

"Brother," said her mother, but when her uncle set his mind to something he never let anyone break him off it. Such took him on a single longship to the Summer Isles when he was merely five and ten, and such applied now. Rhaena heard her mother huff behind her and knew she wouldn't be in a good mood for a while.

Bursting back into the Crown Prince's solar with a flourish, Daemon presented little Rhaena for her father. "Look who we found running around the corridors."

Aenys smiled at seeing his daughter. "Rhaena." He rose and walked over to hug her. "You mustn't run in the corridors, but I'm welcome to your presence." She hugged him back.

"So this is the sweet Princess I have heard so much about?" Rhaena's eyes fell on a comely man in septon robes… very gaudy septon robes inlaid with silver swirls. "The first of your brood you have allowed me the grace to see, my Prince." He smiled warmly, but Rhaena noticed the warmth did not reach his eyes. Cold greens, watching her almost… hatefully?

Apparently, her father was oblivious of this. "Nonsense, Hugor, you shall meet them all by the end of your stay, just as I hope you shall join Murmison in blessing my new babe." Joy radiating from his expression as it was always wont to do, Aenys led Rhaena to where the man was standing. "Sweetling, this is Hugor Flowers, Vice-Lord Archsepton of the Most Devout." She remembered a bit of her studies from Murmison touching on this… the third highest official in the Faith, only behind the High Septon and Lord Archsepton. A powerful man indeed.

Hugor nodded to the Princess. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, young Princess." He reached out, as if to request her hand.

Rhaena didn't like this man and his hateful gaze… whatever his kind words or deferent expression. Unable to say anything with risk of displeasing her parents, she merely hugged at her father's robes - closing her eyes and praying for this to end.

Aenys had a sense to chuckle, though it was heartening to him. "Forgive me, Vice-Lord Archsepton. My little one is quite shy with new people." Not a lie.

Her mother was far less tolerant. "It is unacceptable." Alyssa tapped Rhaena's leg with her foot. "Accept the request of his Holiness."

"It is quite alright…"

"No, do it Rhaena." Hesitantly, Rhaena drew herself away from her father's side and presented her hand, to which Hugor dropped a soft kiss as per custom. His lips were cold as ice that made her shiver.

As if sensing her discomfort, Larissa darted forward. "Father… may we go back to our studies now? I wanna finish so uncle Aenys can take us to Quicksilver." She spared a worried glance at Rhaena, to which the Princess appreciated from her first true friend.

Lord Daemon nodded. "Aye, best be doing that. Keep a seat open for me, Ally," he addressed her mother, shepherding the two girls away.

"Just make sure they stay with Murmison," Rhaena heard her mother call out. It didn't really bother her… anything to get away from the man with the hateful eyes.

Why does he hate me? In her youthful mind, Rhaena couldn't begin to understand