By the time the wild rabbit was thoroughly roasted, it was already noon.
Rhaenyra tore off the most tender piece of meat and handed it to Aegon, who took it and ate in small bites.
The meat was a bit hot, but the taste was unexpectedly good— it had no seasoning, but it was fresh, juicy, and carried a smoky aroma.
Sunfyre, after sharing half of the “spoils,” lay quietly by the stream to enjoy his meal.
After devouring it, he dozed with half-closed eyes, yet his head remained upright, alert to any movement.
Rhaenyra ate some herself.
She ate slowly, her gaze drifting toward the depths of the forest from time to time, back toward the direction they had come from.
“Father and the others…” she said softly, “should have found the White Hart by now.”
Aegon looked up at her; there was worry and unease on Rhaenyra’s face, but the sharp anger and grievance from the morning were gone.
The forest seemed to have calmed her down.
“Sister,” Aegon spoke, his voice muffled by a mouthful of rabbit meat as he began his “Oscar-worthy performance” once more, “don’t…
be angry.”
Rhaenyra gave a bitter smile.
“I’m not angry, just…
a little sad.
Father…
he seems to have started questioning me.
Because of you, because of the White Hart, because everyone is talking about a ‘male heir’.”
Aegon put down the rabbit meat and wiped his small hands on his clothes—this unrefined gesture made Rhaenyra frown, but she didn’t stop him—then he crawled to her side and sat leaning against her chest.
“I protect Sister,” the boy said seriously, his purple eyes fixed on her.
“Always.”
Rhaenyra patted his head.
“You’re still small.”
“Will grow up,” Aegon insisted, “soon.”
Rhaenyra smiled and pulled him into her arms.
The two sat quietly for a while, listening to the sound of the stream, the distant waterfall, and the birds chirping in the woods.
“Do you know?”
Rhaenyra said suddenly, “Sometimes I wish I weren’t the heir.
I wish Mother were still alive, I wish Father were just Father, I wish we could be like we were before Grandfather passed away.
On Dragonstone, sunbathing, riding dragons, reading books, without having to care about thrones, succession, or political marriages.
Oh, but then there wouldn’t be you…”
Aegon leaned against her and didn’t speak, ignoring Rhaenyra’s teasing.
He knew this was only a brief fantasy.
Rhaenyra’s bloodline, identity, and responsibilities meant she was destined to be unable to escape that position.
But perhaps…
he could change the way she moved toward that position.
Sunfyre suddenly raised his head, a low warning growl vibrating in his throat.
Rhaenyra was instantly alert, shielding Aegon behind her, her hand reaching for the dagger in her boot.
Aegon also concentrated, sensing Sunfyre’s emotions through the dragon bond— it wasn’t an aggressive alarm, but…
he had detected an unfamiliar presence.
Not a beast.
A person?
Or…
From deep within the forest, toward the waterfall, came a faint sound.
It wasn’t an animal, nor the wind; it sounded more like…
metal clashing?
Or rocks rolling down?
Rhaenyra and Aegon exchanged a glance.
“Go look?” Rhaenyra asked in a low voice, more to herself.
Aegon hesitated.
Aegon was still hesitating because his reason told him that unknown sounds often meant danger, especially deep in this dense forest far from the camp.
But the light of curiosity and adventure flickering in Rhaenyra’s eyes made it difficult for him to refuse directly— moreover, the system deep in his consciousness was vibrating slightly, as if it were constantly prompting him.
Just as he was weighing his words, the clear sound of horse hooves and a horse’s snort came from behind the bushes.
Someone was there.
Rhaenyra tensed instantly, shielding Aegon completely behind her, her other hand already drawing the small ruby-encrusted dagger from her boot.
Sunfyre stood up, a threatening low growl in his throat, his golden eyes locked on the source of the sound.
Criston Cole stepped out from the shadows of the trees.
He was riding a dark gray horse, and the dark gray cloak over his white mantle made him almost invisible in the woods.
Now he pulled back his hood, revealing a young and handsome face; his brown hair was a bit messy, but his eyes were clear and steady.
He reined in his horse and stopped ten paces away from the royal siblings—a distance enough to show respect without triggering an attack from Sunfyre.
“Princess, Prince Aegon.” Cole dismounted and knelt on one knee in a salute, his posture standard and impeccable.
Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, first in shock, and then anger flushed her cheeks.
“Ser Criston?” Her voice was sharp with surprise.
“What are you doing here?”
Cole looked up, his tone steady:
“I have been following you, Princess.
From the moment you left the camp.”
“Following me?” Rhaenyra’s anger flared even more, her hand holding the dagger trembling slightly.
“Who permitted this?
Father?
“No one ordered it, Princess.” Cole remained kneeling, his gaze meeting hers frankly.
“It was my own choice.
There are boars, wolf packs, and even bears deep in the Kingswood.
It was far too dangerous to let the two young highnesses enter alone.”
Aegon observed Cole from Rhaenyra’s arms.
This future “Kingmaker” of his was currently just a young knight in his early twenties, who had risen to fame a few years ago by defeating Daemon Targaryen in a tourney, before being personally chosen by Rhaenyra for the Kingsguard.
He remembered Cole’s complex feelings for Rhaenyra in the original story— initially loyalty and even adoration, which later turned into him becoming one of her most dangerous enemies due to rejected advances or shifting political stances.
He thought to himself:
Looks like I’ll have to watch out for this guy in the future.
This guy, along with Harwin Strong, Daemon Targaryen…
Right, might as well count Laenor Velaryon too.
Even though that lad has different preferences, he is Rhaenyra’s future first husband after all.
Rhaenyra’s anger hadn’t dissipated, but she took a deep breath.
As if she had thought of something, her tone suddenly became sharp and blunt:
“Do you know that Father intends to marry me to the Lord of Casterly Rock?
That Jason Lannister?”
Cole was visibly stunned.
The news the Princess had spoken so directly was clearly beyond his expectations; his expression went blank for a moment, and then his brow furrowed deeply.
“I…
have heard some rumors, but I did not think His Grace had already…”
He paused, seemingly weighing his words.
“Lord Jason has indeed expressed his intentions to His Grace, but to my knowledge, His Grace has not yet formally consented.”
“But he hasn’t refused either!” Rhaenyra’s voice carried a suppressed sob.
“And he is considering it!
He is seriously considering marrying me off to that…
that arrogant fellow who only has gold and himself in his eyes!
Just because I am the ‘heir’, my marriage must be a political chip!”
She became more agitated as she spoke, her arms tightening around Aegon.
“So I ran away.
I don’t want to go back, I don’t want to see the way those nobles look at me, and I don’t want to hear them debating whom I should marry or whether I should be replaced.
I just…
want some peace.”
Cole looked at her, complex emotions flashing in his eyes—sympathy, understanding, and perhaps something deeper and harder to name.
He opened his mouth, seeming to want to say something comforting or a promise.
But Aegon spoke first.
The little boy poked his head out from Rhaenyra’s arms, his purple eyes staring at Cole, and said in a voice far too clear for a one-year-old toddler:
“Then Rhaenyra, do you want me and Sunfyre to kill him?”
The words made the air freeze.
Rhaenyra looked down at Aegon; the boy’s expression was frighteningly serious, not at all like a joke.
Beside them, Sunfyre let out a low growl in cooperation, a faint firelight appearing deep in his throat.
After being stunned for a few seconds, Rhaenyra burst out laughing.
The laughter was suppressed at first, but then it grew louder and louder, carrying a sense of release and absurdity.
She laughed so hard she almost couldn’t hold Aegon, tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.
“Oh, Aegon, my dear brother…”
She laughed while ruffling Aegon’s hair.
“You’re still too small to understand what ‘killing’ means.
And…” She checked her laughter, her tone becoming gentle but firm, “we cannot kill someone just because we don’t like them.
That is the act of a tyrant, not what a ruler should do.”
She kissed Aegon’s forehead and then looked up at Cole, a smile still on her face.
“But thank you for the sentiment, little one.
Having someone willing to kill for me…
it feels quite special.”
Cole remained kneeling, his expression somewhat subtle.
He had indeed wanted to say something similar as a joke to ease the Princess’s gloomy mood— only to have his lines stolen by the one-year-old Prince Aegon.
He felt truly helpless: How did the Prince know what he was about to say?
And…
Prince Aegon, those were my lines!
But he quickly adjusted his emotions and spoke to Rhaenyra again: “Princess, in any case, this is no place to linger.
It is getting late, and the forest at night is even more dangerous.
Please allow me to escort you and the Prince back to camp.”
Rhaenyra’s smile vanished.
She looked at Cole, then at Aegon in her arms, and finally toward the depths of the forest.
“I don’t want to go back,” she said softly but firmly.
“At least not yet.”
“Princess—”
“Ser Criston,” Rhaenyra interrupted him again, her tone carrying a princessly authority, “since you followed us secretly and claim it was to protect us…
then walk with us!
Just a walk, not far!”
She didn’t give Cole a chance to object, turning with Aegon in her arms toward the small white pony.
Sunfyre followed her, and as he passed Cole, his golden eyes swept over him with what seemed to be an evaluative look.
Cole stood up, watching Rhaenyra’s small but upright back, seeing her skillfully mount the horse and hold Aegon steadily in front of her.
The sunlight filtered through the leaves onto her silver-gold hair, illuminating the stubborn lines of her profile.
He was silent for a few seconds before finally mounting his horse.
The group moved upstream along the creek.
Rhaenyra kept the small white horse at a slow pace.
Sunfyre led the way slightly ahead, his massive body occasionally having to duck or turn to avoid low-hanging branches in the dense woods.
Cole rode five paces behind, maintaining a distance that allowed for a quick reaction without being intrusive.
The stream gradually began to widen, and the sound of water grew louder.
The air became thick with moisture, carrying the fresh scent unique to waterfalls.
The forest here became more primeval, the trees taller, and the ground covered in thick moss and ferns.
Aegon leaned on Rhaenyra’s shoulder, watching the scenery recede.
The sun began to sink, the light turning from golden to orange-red, casting long shadows in the woods.
The bird calls became more frequent, the bustle before returning to their nests at dusk.
“Do you know,” Rhaenyra suddenly spoke without looking back, her voice sounding ethereal amidst the flowing water, “when I was little, Mother often brought me to the Kingswood.
Not for hunting, just for walks.
She said that although House Targaryen conquered Westeros, our roots must always remain connected to nature.
Dragons come from volcanoes and the sky, but a rider needs to walk the earth to avoid losing their way.”
Cole listened quietly.
“After Mother passed away,” Rhaenyra continued, her voice lower, “Father rarely brought me here again.
He had more state affairs, a brand new family, and…
other things that took priority over me.
I was alone in the Red Keep, on Dragonstone, sometimes feeling like a bird locked in a cage.
Syrax was my only companion, but dragons cannot speak, cannot tell me what to do, how to become a…
worthy heir.”
She paused, her hand gently stroking Aegon’s hair.
“Then Aegon was born.
At first, I was afraid, truly.
Everyone said he would replace me, that Father finally had a son, about the precedent of the Great Council…
but then I found out he’s just a baby.
Needs feeding, needs diaper changes, cries, laughs, reaches out for me to hold him.”
Aegon cooperatively snuggled into her arms.
Rhaenyra smiled.
“He’s more real than most people in the Red Keep.
No masks, no calculations, he just…
exists.
Sometimes when I hold him, I feel that maybe the future isn’t so scary.
Maybe we can face it together, sister and brother, against the whole world.”
Cole finally spoke, his voice cautious: “Princess, you are an excellent heir.
His Majesty has publicly confirmed this many times.
Prince Aegon…
he will be your most loyal supporter.”
Rhaenyra did not respond.
She looked up at the sky, at the narrowing golden gap between the treetops.
They continued walking until the stream turned, revealing a relatively open clearing in the woods ahead.
In the center of the clearing was a huge flat rock, like a natural stone table.
Surrounded by trees, it formed a secluded corner.
The sun had completely sunk below the treetops, and the sky had turned from orange-red to deep blue, with the first star shining in the east.
Rhaenyra pulled the reins and looked around.
“Let’s spend the night here.”
Cole frowned.
“Princess, this is too far from the camp.
The forest at night—”
“I said, right here.” Rhaenyra turned to look at him, her purple eyes like two burning amethysts in the twilight.
“If you’re worried about danger, Sunfyre will keep watch.
And…” A smile that was almost provocative played on her lips, “aren’t you a Kingsguard?
One of the finest knights in the Seven Kingdoms, can you not protect us for one night, Ser?”
Cole looked at her, at that face which was a mix of girlish innocence and princessly authority, and finally lowered his head helplessly.
“As you wish, Princess.”
He dismounted and began to skillfully clear the area.
He pulled out overgrown weeds, checked for snakes and insects around the rock, and gathered dry branches to prepare a fire.
Rhaenyra also dismounted with Aegon and tied the small white pony to a tree at the edge of the clearing.
Cole took a flint from his saddlebag.
Just as he was about to start the fire, Sunfyre suddenly leaned in.
The golden dragon lowered his head, aimed at the woodpile Cole had gathered, and breathed a small, precise wisp of flame.
The woodpile ignited instantly, the firelight dancing and illuminating the gradually darkening clearing.
Cole’s hand holding the flint froze in mid-air, his expression somewhat helpless.
Rhaenyra chuckled.
“It seems Sunfyre wanted to help too.”
Cole put away the flint and took another bundle from his saddlebag.
He walked to Rhaenyra, knelt on one knee, and opened the bundle—
Inside was clean linen wrapping several items of food: fresh white bread, hard cheese, smoked jerky, and a small bag of apples.
“Princess, Prince,” he said as he presented the bundle gently, “while the rabbit meat caught by Sunfyre is delicious, perhaps you would like a change of taste.”
Rhaenyra looked at the food before her with a complex expression.
She was silent for a few seconds, looked at Aegon in her arms, and finally took the bundle.
“Thank you, Ser Criston.”
“My pleasure.” Cole rose and retreated to the other side of the fire, beginning to check his weapons—longsword and dagger—ensuring they could be drawn at any moment.