A Prince and A Princess

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Chapter 37 (A Prince and A Princess), Chapter 38 (A Tourney of Sacrifice), Chapter 39 (Words are like an Arrow), Chapter 40 (Viserys's Decision), Chapter 41 (Aenar's Answer), Chapter 42 (You Will Doom Us All), Chapter 43 (The First Cry of War), Chapter 44 (Revenge is a dish best served Cold), Chapter 45 (Dragons and Snakes), Chapter 46 ('You are not Loved'), Chapter 47 (Rhaenyra's Rage), Chapter 48 (Spread your Wings), Chapter 49 (A Falling Dragon), Chapter 50 (Even Eyes Can Lie), and Chapter 51 (A Crying Dragon) are already available for Patrons.

"There are two kinds of Love in this World: A love of Joy... and A love of Agony." - Lady Oscar.

"You can stand up. Is not the end of the world that you didn't recognize me." Aenar said casually. The man stood up, showing relief on his face, but he was still quite shocked.

"What is your name, good knight?" Aenar questioned.

"Ser Criston Cole, your Grace." Aenar almost stiffened upon hearing that name; it took a lot from him not to try to make any comment toward him. The man before him would eventually crown Aegon Targaryen the Second as King of Westeros, the Kingmaker, as many called him.

He remembered Ser Jaime mentioned him a few times when he spoke of Kingsguards that were a shame to the White Book of Kingsguards; his name was always brought up, his and Lucamore Strong, who married three wives and fathered many children while he was a Kingsguard.

Aenar remembered Ser Ryam mentioning that he had never felt greater shame than when Lucamore confessed what he had done, breaking his vows. His punishment. His brothers of the Kingsguard gelded him before being sent to the Wall. Queen Alysanne then annulled the three marriages, the children became bastards, and the King and Queen warned his three wives. While they hadn't known about the existence of the other two, they still knew that Ser Lucamore had been a kingsguard and therefore had no right to marry.

"Criston Cole, you seem to be in good shape. Are you a good fighter?" Aenar questioned as he sheathed his Valyrian steel dagger. The man looked shocked, in a good way, that a Prince was willing to talk with him.

"I believe I am ready, your grace, Lord Dondarrion, trained me personally." The man answered with a smile of self-pride; he looked quite nervous now, no longer how he talked before Aenar told him who he was, his eyes looking at the ground.

"There's no need for this, good ser. You can talk to me as if I was just an ordinary knight, tell me, have you ever fought a real battle?" Aenar questioned as he leaned against the column nearby; the man looked relieved by what he heard, now looking up at Aenar once again, but still not directly at his eyes as a sign of respect.

"Yes, your grace. I fought as a footsoldier in border conflicts with Dorne." Criston answered; Aenar nodded along; he already knew that, but there was no harm in learning more about Criston Cole; despite taking Aegon's side in the Dance, he was still one of the Best Kingsguards when it came to fighting, from what he remembered that he read in the books about the Dance, it was said that Rhaenyra tried to seduce him, but Criston refused her, but another version spoke that it was Criston who had fallen in love with the Princess, Aenar didn't know which version was the truth, but it didn't really matter anymore.

"A footsoldier; I heard that Dornish are very good with Spears," Aenar commented, and the knight chuckled almost mockingly.

"They are good as fighters as they are good at running away. Their poison is what truly frightened me during the night. Lord Dondarrion said they are like snakes. Their teeth are what you should fear-" Criston then went on and told him more about the fights he had fought; looking a little proud of himself, Aenar couldn't really blame him. For many people, the first fight is the last one, and Criston was still alive to tell the tale and didn't seem like someone suffering mentally, but one thing he knew, all it takes is bad luck, and one would die like the rest.

"Before the first fight, my Lord asked me, 'Are you afraid?' And I was shaking to my boots, but my Lord told me that 'I wasn't as foolish as the rest. These 'Brave' men will charge fearlessly and will die braver than the rest.' That's what he told me." Criston spoke of his 'adventures' as a foot soldier; Aenar was tempted to add something from himself; he remembered the many battles he had fought, including his fight against Prince Oberyn—the man he once considered an ally.

"Lord Dondarrion is right. One should know when to retreat. You can fail many times in your life and fight another day, but you only have one life; there won't be a second chance." Aenar added with a distant look, his eyes suddenly much colder. Criston looked impressed by his words.

"The poison." Criston suddenly added, catching Aenar's attention.

"Huh!"

"His name was Daylon, h-he screamed the whole night, and he was only thirteen name days; my Lord was wounded too, so the Maester didn't really... have time to take care of him. I was there, and he kept screaming in pain, the poison, it was killing him slowly, until-" Criston stopped mid-sentence. He seemed as if he wanted to say more, but Aenar raised his hand so he could stop.

"No need to say more. I have never tasted combat. The closest I got to real combat was in the training yard with my father and Ser Ryam." Aenar added with a look of understanding. The knight's face brightened up the moment he brought up Ser Ryam; it seemed he wasn't lying when he said the old knight was his hero. The way he smiled, his dark hair like a crow.

It reminded Aenar of Bran. His brother had always wanted to become a Kingsguard before the fall. He remembered him saying how excited he was to meet Ser Barriston, train with him, become a knight, and one day become a Kingsguard, but it never happened. The gods were cruel, and they took away Bran's legs before taking his love and his sanity, and then, in the end, they gave him the mercy of death.

"Ser Ryam," Criston spoke the name with admiration; his eyes sparkled like gems. My dream is to become like him and serve my King faithfully." Aenar narrowed his eyes upon hearing that. Criston eventually became the Lord Commander but betrayed his role as one. He broke his oaths, and one like him was too dangerous to be kept alive.

"Maybe you will, but to become a Kingsguard, you need more than just strength and being good with your weapon," Aenar said strictly; the knight seemed to listen to his every word intently. But they were interrupted when they both heard the sound of approaching footsteps and the armor clattering.

"Your grace, why are you here alone?" Ser Ryam asked as he walked across the training yard to reach him. His voice was almost like he was scolding the prince, who smiled innocently. He was followed closely by Ser Elric Stark.

The old knight glanced at Ser Criston and noticed that he had a Morningstar strapped to his waist.

"I just took a stroll around the training yard. The earth will not open up and swallow me just because I was without a guard," Aenar said with a teasing voice, always enjoying the way he could tease the old knight, who shook his head. Unlike Aenar, he wasn't enjoying his little game.

"I swear you will make my hair grey, your grace." He whispered, only for the two of them to hear what he said.

"Aren't your hair already grey?" Ser Elric quickly pointed out with a smirk of triumph when the old knight gave him a stern look.

"Shut up, or I will have you clean the public toilets," Ser Ryam threatened, but Ser Elric didn't seem threatened by his words.

"I'm a Kingsguard, not a servant. Why don't you tell Lord Hightower to do that job? He's already full of shit every time he opens his mouth." Ser Elric said with a look of triumph; the old knight scoffed before turning to face Ser Criston Cole, who had been silent the whole time and had been observing them.

"You know you should kneel to your Prince, good knight." Ser Ryam said with a commanding voice that made Ser Elric straighten up as if the old knight was addressing him.

Criston seemed ready to bend the knee right away. "No need, Ser Criston. I'm leaving," Aenar said dismissively with a wave of his hand before stepping forward towards him; he still bowed his head respectfully.

"I wish you good fortune on the battles to come, Ser Criston Cole."

"You too, your grace," he said with a bright smile, as if he saw God in front of him.

Later

Upon entering the Red Keep, he had wanted to find Laena and spend more time with her, but she had told him that Nyra wished to talk with him and only him. He asked if, perhaps, she knew what they had done last night and was angry with them for leaving her out of it, but Laena smiled like a devil and told him to find out for himself and that he would face her alone, while she would spend time with her family.

"Rhaenyra," Aenar called her name as soon as he entered the God's Wood, but he couldn't see her anywhere. Laena told him that she had gone to God's Wood by herself. He knew that meant she was concerned for her mother, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

"Nyra!!" He called her again, this time louder, concern seeping into his voice, when he noticed... silver hair behind the tree. He furrowed a brow as he approached, but when he looked at what was hiding behind the tree, it was just a doll.

Huh!

"Got You!!" He turned around just in time to see Rhaenyra jump on him. Both fell to the ground, with her on top of him. She let out a beautiful laugh as she smiled down at him, almost like a devil.

"I caught you, my good knight. You are powerless against my might." Rhaenyra teased in a singing voice as she leaned her head closer to his face, her beautiful lips brushing against his, but only slightly; he smiled in joy as he grabbed her waist.

"Ohh, please. I will do anything, my dear Princess." Aenar said, playing along with her as his hands moved under her dress, touching her beautiful skin. Nyra shuddered, loving the feeling, but she refused to submit to him, at least not yet.

"Anything, well, my dear Knight..." she dragged out. Slowly, an evil smirk grew on her face, so evil that the devil himself would be jealous. She slowly leaned down, her lips almost touching him. He leaned forward to capture her beautiful lips, but she quickly placed her hand on top of his chest with the same evil smile.

"Good ser, you have forgotten your place. I have captured you; you are mine now to do as I wish." She reminded him with a cute chuckle, and Aenar smiled smugly at her.

"How can I serve you, my beautiful princess?" he asked in a dramatic voice. She giggled again. She enjoyed the little innocent games they could play together.

Rhaenyra leaned down, her nose touching his; her lips were almost on his, but just as he tried to close the gap, she placed her hand on his chest once again, stopping him; he groaned and looked at her with slight annoyance.

"You are Evil." He started with a halfhearted voice; she giggled once again; she could feel his thing against her, poking her ass; she felt proud that she could make him feel like this.

"Maybe, but what I want is a crown of blue flowers on my head," Rhaenyra said, almost sensually, while rubbing herself against his crotch; she had never tried something like this before; she only remembered what Laena had taught her.

When she realized that she had fallen for Aenar, she wondered if he felt the same way. She almost panicked until Laena came to her aid and told her that Aenar liked both of them. Rhaenyra had asked what she needed to do to seduce him. She had no idea how one could do that, but her sister, in all but name, taught her everything she wanted to know.

"Isn't 'The Realm's Delight' already enough for you, but now you want two titles." Aenar said with the same teasing smile.

"I want that and more, my knight," Rhaenyra whispered sensually against his ear before biting his earlobe. He groaned, but it seemed he couldn't handle it anymore.

Getting a hold of her waist, she yelped as she was pushed against the Weirwood tree, her words silenced by his lips. She moaned sweetly into the kiss. The first kiss of her life was everything and more than she had imagined.

From Laena's words before coming here, she described it as breathtaking and sweeter than honey. Rhaenyra had wondered if a kiss was sweeter than even strawberry cakes from Essos, but right now, pushing her lips against his, her heart danced like an instrument. She could have never imagined that a kiss could taste so sweet. This was her first kiss, so she had no idea what she was doing. She was following his lead, but much to her disappointment, the kiss had to end.

He pulled away from her, his forehead touching her, and her dark purple eyes looked back at his bright purple eyes. She felt like she was in Heaven. Her lips tingled, and her heart felt like it would burst out. How can something as simple as a kiss feel so good?!

Rhaenyra quickly grabbed his hand before walking to her bedchamber through a secret door so the servants and guards wouldn't notice them.

Once they walked inside, she turned around and kissed his lips again. As he kissed her, they pulled away when he noticed a vase standing on top of the table near her bed. Red roses filled the beautiful vase with the Targaryen sigil carved in the front. The flowers glittered against the sunlight that poured inside through the window.

"Red roses. I think you should change them." Aenar said with a smile as he grabbed one, bringing it closer to his face. It smelled good and reminded him of Winterfell.

"Oh, what color would you want them to be, Aenar?" She asked sweetly; he heard her approaching him from behind until her arms were around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder.

"White Roses."

"White? Why?" She asked as he whirled around to face her, his hands cupping her cheeks, both looking at each other's eyes.

"Because they are the only ones that can't pale in comparison to you." He closed the gap, now kissing once again.

She kissed him back, feeling almost shy, emotion welling up in her chest.

The lips, I know...

The lips, I know...are strong and soft. They melt against mine with a tender sort of passion...

Of course, they belonged to Aenar, the man who had stood at her side as long as she'd known him, whose laugh was gentle and whose smile was kind.

Over and over again, Aenar's lips met hers, but it never felt like enough. Even when he pulled her close to him, so close she could feel the hard lines of his body against hers, her mind still clamored for more.

When had he gotten so much bigger than her? Probably ages ago, she reasoned as he eagerly pressed his lips against hers again. Back when they were still children, they had been the same...but now, the difference was staggering.

"Rhaenyra," he said, pulling away from her, his fingers still buried in her hair, his breathing almost harsh in the silence of her rooms. He looked at her as if she were something precious to him, eyes so warm and soft that it made her joints feel weak. "You are incredible," he whispered and bent his head to kiss the corner of her mouth and then the edge of her jaw, "more than I can even say."

His warm mouth found her ear and kissed the sensitive skin just behind it before he trailed down to her neck. She clung to him desperately, fingers going into his hair, confusion, and desire at war with one another in her mind.

This was going somewhere—she wanted it to, but...what would she do? How could she...? It wasn't like her to sit idly by to let things happen! What could she do? What did she want—?

Her hands left his hair and went to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the front of it. They were still chilled and refused to work properly, even though the rest of her felt overwhelmed.

Aenar laughed gently against her neck and took her hands in his, kissing her fingertips before moving to remove his own shirt.

Flustered, she felt heat rush to her face. "You don't have to if you don't want to!"

He only smiled as he lifted his shirt over his head and carefully folded it, setting it aside. "Anything for you, Rhaenyra," he said and returned to her, the pressure of his next kiss so enthusiastic that she found herself tipping backward.

She might as well make it intentional, then, she decided, and pulled him down the rest of the way so that he was leaning over her.

"Anything?" she asked when he pulled away, her fingers moving all on their own to explore his skin. It seemed not so long ago that they had both young, but clearly, that was not the case anymore! How in Heaven's name had she missed such a transformation?

Aenar lowered his head to press a soft kiss against her collarbone. "Mm," he said and moved a little lower to kiss down the front of her loose shirt. "Anything at all." He stopped when the fabric halted his progress and returned to her mouth, smiling into their next kiss.

"Well, then," she said, brushing her thumbs over his nipples, delighting in the way something so simple made him shiver, "you can help me get my shirt off, too. It's only fair."

She'd do it herself, but what if her hands shook? It would send the wrong message! She was only nervous, not afraid. Surely, there was a difference between the two!

She could feel his muscles relax at her words, but he didn't act right away. Instead, he nuzzled her cheek with his nose and then took her hands in his, pulling them away from his body.

"Are you sure?" he asked and kissed her fingers. "Absolutely certain?"

Frustration worked its way into her reply. "I never say anything I don't mean, Aenar."

"Then I will gladly assist you in this matter." He undid her shirt slowly, carefully, as if he were unwrapping a treasure.

When the fabric fell away from her body and joined his in a neat pile off to the side, she waited nervously, expectantly.

His hands went to her face, fingers brushing over her cheeks, her jaw, down her neck. He traced the shape of her, her shoulders, the gentle swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, the soft skin of her belly.

Surely, he could feel the way her blood was racing through her veins! It gave her a little thrill to think about.

"Aenar," she said, and put a finger under his chin, a gentle request for him to lift his head. His face was wet. "Will you show me something?"

"You know my answer, Rhaenyra."

"I want you to show me, now... how it feels to be loved by you."

He nodded wordlessly and bent his head to explore her again, one calloused hand cupping her left breast, his thumb stroking her skin even as his mouth moved to her right side, his mouth claiming the rounded tip of her nipple. She felt it stiffen between his lips and couldn't help but make a soft sound as he ran his tongue over it.

She could only bury her hands in his hair and let him look at her the only way he could. Suddenly, she rolled along with him; now, she was the one on top of him.

Rhaenyra ran her fingers through Aenar's hair, gripping it tightly, and pressed her body against his. Aenar groaned, and his hands moved to her breasts. She rolled her hips against his, causing him to moan in pleasure.

Rhaenyra could feel the heat building between her legs, and she began to move faster. Aenar's breath hitched, and he arched his back, grinding his erection against her. He held her hips, guiding her movements, and his thumbs caressed the sensitive skin underneath them.

"Aenar... I need you..." She whispered, her voice thick with lust.

Without a word, Aenar grabbed her and flipped her over so that he was on top of her. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips and, with shaky hands, began removing the rest of their clothes.

His breath caught in his throat as Rhaenyra parted her legs, exposing her most intimate area. He was transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away from her glistening folds. Rhaenyra smiled, watching his reaction.

"Touch me, Aenar." She begged. Her hands guiding his own toward her core.

He hesitated only slightly before brushing his fingertips over her sensitive clit. Rhaenyra moaned, throwing her head back and arching her spine. Aenar continued his exploration, brushing her slick folds with feather-light touches and trailing away from her sex to caress her stomach, the crease in her thighs, and her breasts as if he wanted to map every inch of her body.

Rhaenyra shuddered, her entire body shaking from the sensation. Aenar's fingers wandered back to her entrance, and she gripped his wrist to stop him.

"Not yet," She panted, "I want to be able to enjoy this fully."

Rhaenyra reached between their bodies, wrapping her fingers around his throbbing member and giving it a few slow strokes. Aenar let out a groan and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Stop... wait."

Rhaenyra's hand stilled, and he gently removed her fingers from him.

"Do you not want to...?" Rhaenyra asked, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Aenar shook his head, "No, I mean yes! Gods, Rhaenyra, of course, I want to. I just... you touching me like that... it's too much." He gasped, his shaft brushing against her thigh as he tried to steady himself.

Rhaenyra gave him an affectionate smile and leaned up to kiss him. She wrapped her arms around Aenar's neck, and they fell back onto the pillows. Taking her time, Rhaenyra teased and coaxed his lips open with her tongue. Their heads tilted alternately in a combined effort to deepen their kiss; their mouths moved in sync, tongues exploring each other in a dance that left them both breathless. Rhaenyra's hand couldn't help but reach for him again, only for him to restrain her wrist again. Aenar ducked his head into her chest and stifled a laugh.

"Rhaenyra, you're going to kill me." Aenar joked, placing a kiss on the swell of her breast. The sound of Rhaenyra's laughter echoed throughout the room, and they dissolved into a fit of giggles. Eventually, their mirth faded, and Rhaenyra took Aenar's hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Their eyes locked.

Aenar exhaled, leaning in to capture her lips in another passionate kiss. His palm brushed against her slick folds for a brief moment. Rhaenyra broke their kiss to look down between their bodies, and she watched with rapt attention as Aenar positioned himself at her entrance.

With one last glance to gauge her reaction, Aenar slowly pushed inside her. Rhaenyra parted her lips and stared into his bright purple eyes, her grip on his hand tightening. Aenar swallowed thickly, letting out a shuddering breath as he fully sheathed himself inside her. Rhaenyra winced and wrapped an arm around his neck, holding him close. Aenar was breathing hard against her neck, his body trembling as he tried to control himself.

"Rhaenyra..." He mumbled before lifting his head to look at her. "Are you alright."

"Yes, but..." Rhaenyra bit her lip, and her walls contracted around Aenar's length, eliciting a low moan from him. "Give me a minute..."

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Aenar's face pressed against the side of her neck, his hot breath tickling her skin. Rhaenyra's chest rose and fell steadily, her body adjusting to his size. When the pain subsided, Rhaenyra placed a gentle kiss on Aenar's jaw and rocked her hips up.

Aenar made a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan, and he reluctantly withdrew from her, then thrust back into her, making Rhaenyra gasp. He repeated this motion several more times, setting a languid pace.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensations. Aenar's hand held her own, their fingers entwined, and his other arm snaked under her waist to pull her even closer to him. Her free hand explored his back, running up and down his spine. She kissed his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest, anywhere she could reach.

Their breaths grew ragged, and Rhaenyra lifted her leg to wrap it around Aenar's hip, changing the angle of penetration. Aenar grunted, pushing into her faster and harder. She tightened her grip on him and whimpered softly, breathing his name and urging him to move even faster.

Rhaenyra was lost in a sea of pleasure, drowning in the sounds of their lovemaking. She barely registered Aenar's gasps at her name, her mind focusing only on the feeling of him filling her completely. Her walls clenched around him, and her whole body tensed, then shuddered violently as waves of ecstasy crashed through her.

She heard Aenar's low groan, and his muscles tensed beneath her fingers, and Rhaenyra felt a surge of warmth between her legs. He collapsed on top of her, their limbs tangled together, and they lay in each other's embrace.

Rhaenyra gazed into Aenar's purple eyes and stroked his cheek lovingly, brushing away a strand of hair stuck to his sweat-slicked forehead. She could feel Aenar's heartbeat gradually slowing, matching her own.

"That was..." She sighed happily.

"... brilliant." Aenar finished for her. He shifted their positions and rolled on his back, taking Rhaenyra with him so she was lying on top of him. They lay in silence, catching their breath. Rhaenyra rested her chin on Aenar's chest and looked up at him.

"Do you think anyone noticed that we were missing?" She whispered.

"Probably." He smiled lazily. They went quiet for a moment until Rhaenyra spoke again.

"I want to be with you, Aenar."

Aenar blinked in surprise and stared down at her.

"Really?" He breathed, stroking her cheek tenderly. Rhaenyra nodded and leaned into his touch.

"Yes, with you and Laena."

"We will, Nyra. One day."

King's Landing

The Tourney will be held today. The King's Landing hadn't had this many people in the market since Rhaenyra's name day. Aenar wanted to buy something for Cregan and Sara. This Tourney was the largest he had ever seen; even Robert's Tourney paled in comparison. From what he heard, the little Stark girl still refused to take care of the Dragon Egg. Aunt Gael tried to convince her, but the girl refused nonetheless.

King Viserys had said he couldn't give Cregan two Dragon Eggs, so either Sara would start taking care of the dragon egg, or the King would take away the egg that was meant for her. Aenar hoped she would change her mind soon enough, but he wondered what troubled her so much when they weren't talking about Dragons. She loved talking and teasing people she knew, especially Cregan, but the moment the Dragons were brought up, all her fierceness would melt away like ice from her face.

As he explored the streets, his mind wandered to Ser Criston. The man seemed honest when he said that he wanted to serve the King faithfully. A part of him wondered what really happened between him and Rhaenyra in the last life, but soon, he escaped his thoughts when he saw a familiar face at the end of a blind road near the market.

"Old man!" He called him out, sounding both confused and happy to see him still alive!

"This voice... your grace, it's good to hear you again," the old man said kindly as he poured himself a cup of tea.

Aenar could feel the tantalizing aroma emanating from the cup of tea in his hand, its fragrant steam swirling around him and filling his nose with its sweet and spicy notes. His eyes were soon drawn to the curious array of trinkets and treasures scattered across the old wooden desk before him.

The desk itself had clearly seen better days, its surface marred by a thousand scratches and scars, but it was covered by a small, vibrant green carpet that gave it a cozy, inviting feel. And upon this carpet lay a collection of necklaces, each one more fascinating than the last - there were shining chains of gold and silver, strings of beads and shells, and delicate strands of woven silk.

"What can I do for you?" the old man asked, his voice as old as Maester Aemon's. His eyes were closed, but his head still followed Aenar as if he could still see.

"I was looking for a Wolf necklace," Aenar requested with a smile. He wondered how the man walked from White Harbour all the way to King's Landing with all the stuff he had with him. With a horse, it could take three weeks, but the old man didn't seem like he had a horse, and he was too old to even ride one, so someone must have helped him come here.

"A Wolf Necklace, I have just what you need." He stopped talking, opening a drawer, before showing him two silver necklaces, glittering brightly against the sun, with a direwolf sigil in the end, one black, one white.

"Sōna and Morghon, the first and largest Direwolves that House Stark rode many years ago. You give the black one to a Stark boy and the silver one to a Stark girl. It will bind them together, your grace." The old man said with a smile before handing them to Aenar, his skin old and wrinkled yet still firm like a soldier.

"Thank you. This is perfect." Aenar said with a sigh of relief, but as he dug into his pockets to give him what he owned him.

"I feel something is troubling you, your grace," the old man said in a soft voice that sounded too much like Maester Aemon. Aenar was ready to dismiss him, but he remembered his advice many years ago; it had helped him.

"...Maybe. It's about revenge and doing what is right for everyone," Aenar said hesitantly, remembering Criston Cole. The knight seemed like he wanted to do good, but he needed to die for something he hadn't done yet.

"Ahh. Forgive me if I'm overstepping your grace, but would you want to hear what an old man like me thinks of revenge." Aenar pressed his lips into a thin line as he observed the man before saying, 'I want to hear.'

"A Year after I first laid my eyes on my first son. I found this man in the streets begging for coins. I stopped before him and said. 'I have no coin to give you, but I can give you a dinner. Fill your belly good with what gods have given us.' I took this stranger to my house and filled his plate like he was one of us, and gave him a warm bed for the night. The next day, he had stolen almost everything we owned." Aenar felt the need to ask where this man was, but the old man raised his hand. He wasn't done yet with his story.

"But, the very next week, they found him, two knights found him drinking in a bar, he had sold some of the food, so he could drink himself to death. They returned him back to my house. The man, he dropped on his knees and begged for forgiveness. Do you know what I did?" Aenar didn't know, but he was sure the man had faced justice.

"I told him that he had left the house in a hurry before I could give him the bronze coin I had wanted to give him." Aenar looked at him perplexed; he wanted to ask why he had given him a coin, but for the first time, he was left a little speechless.

"Everyone deserves a second chance; that's what my father believed. The man that stole from me. I told the guards that I gave him the food willingly, and the man was set free. I didn't see him for three years. One day, he arrived at the village, cloaked in armor, with a white horse. He walked up to me and dropped a purse full of gold and silver to my feet. The man begged on his knees that he had not stolen them and that all that was through honest work. I told him that I was happy that he had turned his life around, but I still refused the purse. I didn't save him for the coin, I saw a broken men who deserved a second chance, and the gods guided me to him that night. After I refused the purse. The man, his name was Jon, built a house besides mine, became a teacher to our community, teaching my boys how to fight, and one day. Bandits attacked the village, he fell protecting my house, my children. I tried to save him again... His last words to me were 'Thank You.' " Tears rolled down his old face; Aenar was left speechless, as the old man let the tears roll down his face before dripping down.

"There are people who will use your kindness, and deserve no second chance, but there are also people who can change. Taking a man's life should never be easy, so before you do it, you owned it to them to hear their last words. If you do not, then maybe that man deserves to live." The old man finished.

Aenar's eyes widened, and he let out a gasp. These were the same words Lord Eddard Stark had once told him after he had executed the Night's Watch deserter.

"Thank you for your words. I hope we meet again," Aenar said with a genuine smile before dropping three silver stag coins into his hand. The old man seemed as if he knew he held one extra coin.

"I hope later rather than sooner," the old man said cryptically. Aenar wondered what he meant but didn't want to bother him any longer, so he walked away. But once he had walked a good distance, he looked back, over his shoulder, at the old man; he dropped the extra coin he had given to a woman with a child in her arms.

Thank you, Old Man.

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