In the woods at the edge of the clearing where Aegon and the others had spent the night, several figures arrived, drawn by the commotion, and witnessed everything.
Leading them, Ser Harrold Westerling pulled on his horse’s reins, his expression solemn.
As the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he had been leading a search for tracks of wild beasts during yesterday’s hunt.
Upon returning to camp this morning, he was shocked to hear of the Princess and Prince’s disappearance and was ordered to lead another team to find them—
The news of Rhaenyra and Aegon’s disappearance had been discovered before last night’s banquet.
Viserys, already in a foul mood because the White Hart had “turned” into a black deer, nearly had the entire camp overturned in his fury.
Harrold had once again taken the most elite men who had been tracking beasts yesterday, divided them into groups, and searched through the night.
He, along with fellow Kingsguard Ser Lorent Marbrand, and the twin brothers Ser Arryk Cargyle and Ser Ilic Cargyle, plus seven or eight squires, had searched all night following the stream and the “trail” the Princess had inadvertently left behind, as well as the marks Cole had specifically left.
At dawn, they faintly heard the sound of a waterfall and the belling of a stag.
They followed the sound and then—
Saw this scene.
A forest clearing in the morning light.
The legendary White Hart was carrying a young child with silver hair and purple eyes.
Crouched beside the child was that golden dragon hatchling.
Watching over the child from behind was the light of the kingdom, Princess Rhaenyra.
Kneeling before the child was his young brother of the White Cloaks, Criston Cole.
Sunlight, the sacred stag, the dragon hatchling, the Prince, the Princess, and the knight.
All of this combined was like a tapestry depicting an ancient prophecy, so sacred it made one afraid to breathe.
“The Seven preserve us…” Ser Lorent murmured, making the sign of the seven-pointed star.
The twins, Arryk and Ilic, exchanged a glance and dismounted in unison.
They said nothing, but their movements were synchronized: dropping to one knee and bowing their heads in respect.
The squires looked at each other and then knelt one by one.
Although they did not understand those profound omens and symbols, the scene before them was so shocking that it made them instinctively bend their knees.
Only the leader, Ser Harrold Westerling, remained on his horse.
He stared at the child sitting on the back of the White Hart in the clearing, at the golden dragon crouched there, and at that sacred image, the expression on his face shifting.
As the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he had seen countless grand spectacles.
He had served King Jaehaerys in his youth and witnessed the majesty of “The Old King”;
Later, he witnessed Viserys’s coronation and saw the new King ascend the Iron Throne;
He had participated in countless tournaments and court ceremonies, and he thought he had long since become numb to these “auspicious signs” rumored to be “symbols of royal power.”
But at this moment, he felt a strange emotion welling up in his heart.
It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t awe, it wasn’t even loyalty—it was something more primal.
Deep within his blood, some ancient memory was awakening, telling him:
The scene before him was more real than any coronation ceremony, closer to the essence of a “King.”
He finally dismounted.
Not on one knee, but on both, lowering his head and laying his sword horizontally before him—
This was the posture a knight used only when swearing fealty to a King.
Seeing the actions of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the symbol of honor, the squires bowed their heads even more respectfully.
Aegon sat on the back of the White Hart, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on his face and the steady breathing of the sacred stag beneath him, yet he could clearly sense the complex emotions coming from Sunfyre beside him—jealousy, confusion, and a hint of…
recognition?
Then, deep in his consciousness, the long-silent, locked system finally reacted.
[Sacred creature contact detected…]
[Analyzing…]
[Creature Confirmed: Kingswood White Hart (Imperial Omen · True)]
[Nature of Contact: Active Recognition · Bloodline Authentication · Destiny Binding]
[Calculating rewards…]
The system interface lit up; it was no longer the simple gray panel from before, but was glowing with a faint golden light.
The gray areas that had always shown “Locked” began to flicker.
[Bloodline Purity Fluctuating…]
[Current Purity: 45% (+20%) → 49% (+24%)]
[Hint: Only 1% away from unlocking the “Bloodline Evolution” function]
[Dragon Resonance detection in progress…]
[Current Resonance: Primary (16%)]
[Because Sunfyre and the White Hart share the same scene, Dragon Resonance has increased further]
[New Progress: Primary (18%) (+2%)]
[New functions unlocking…]
[Detected completion of “Imperial Omen” event, rewarding special status]
On the system panel that still showed locked sections, a new icon slowly lit up.
The icon was a white antler surrounded by a golden halo.
[Status: White Harts Blessing]
[Effects:]
[1.
[2.
Natural Attraction: Your very existence will more easily attract neutral or friendly attention, increasing the possibility of receiving unexpected help]
[3.
Charisma Boost: Success rate of interaction with key figures increased, making it easier to build trust and emotional connections]
[4.
Flicker of Luck: In dangerous or critical situations, gain a slight luck bonus (uncontrollable, passive effect)]
[Duration: Permanent (Special events may strengthen or weaken it)]
Aegon stared at the system panel, a complex mix of emotions rising in his heart.
“White Harts Blessing”—
This was the first time the system had given him such a specific buff that acted on social interactions and destiny.
The “Dragon Resonance” and “Bloodline Purity” shown on the system panel before were more like mysterious, intangible internal enhancements, but this status could directly and clearly change how others perceived him.
King’s Presence, Natural Attraction, Charisma Boost, Flicker of Luck.
Every single one seemed tailored for him—
To survive in this world, to lay his plans, and to change history, these were exactly what he needed most.
The White Hart moved slightly, as if reminding him that time was up.
Aegon withdrew his consciousness from the system interface and looked around.
He saw Rhaenyra gently approaching, cupping his face.
Her eyes held inexplicable and complex tears, but her face showed a proud and relieved smile.
He saw Cole kneeling on one knee, his head slightly bowed in a pious stance.
He saw Ser Harrold Westerling and several Kingsguard kneeling on both knees at the edge of the clearing, with the squires bowing low.
Then, he saw Sunfyre still crouched nearby, those golden eyes staring at him, a soft rumble coming from its throat, as if saying, “Have you had enough fun?”
Helplessly, he reached out and gently patted the side of the White Hart’s neck.
“Thank you,” he whispered, in a voice only he could hear.
The White Hart seemed to understand.
It let out a soft cry and then slowly lowered its body, letting Aegon slide off its back.
Aegon’s small feet stepped onto the fallen leaves again, and then he fell into Rhaenyra’s arms, looking up at it.
The White Hart locked eyes with him for a moment, its amber eyes seemingly filled with some ancient and wise light.
Then it turned, as if saying goodbye, and walked toward the depths of the forest.
Its pace was light and silent, just as it had been when it arrived.
Sunlight fell on its pure white back, illuminating it as it gradually disappeared into the shadows of the trees.
In the final glimpse, those crown-like antlers shimmered in the morning light before vanishing completely into the dense forest.
There was a moment of silence in the clearing.
Rhaenyra was the first to react.
She set Aegon down, knelt before him, held his small face, and checked him carefully:
“Are you hurt?
Does it hurt anywhere?
Did it bump you?”
Aegon shook his head and used his small hand to wipe the tear tracks from her face.
“Sister…
I’m fine.”
Rhaenyra pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly.
“You little rascal,” her voice was muffled against his shoulder, “you scared me to death.
Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me?
Don’t just climb up like that, don’t—”
“Princess.”
Cole’s voice interrupted her rambling.
The young white-cloaked knight had already stood up and was pointing toward the edge of the clearing.
“Someone is coming.”
Rhaenyra turned and saw Ser Harrold Westerling, who had watched her grow up, approaching with several Kingsguard and squires.
Harrold led the way and stopped ten paces away, dropping to one knee.
“Princess, Prince Aegon.” His voice was steady, but his eyes were complex.
“We were ordered to search for you both.
His Majesty was very worried.”
Rhaenyra looked at him helplessly, then at the squires still kneeling behind him, seeing the lingering expressions of awe on their faces.
She knew what they had seen, and she knew what this meant, besides the fact that her escape plan had failed…
“Rise, Ser Harrold,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm.
“We are fine.
We just…
came out to clear our heads and ran into a bit of a surprise.”
Harrold stood up, his gaze sweeping across the clearing:
The carcass of the wild boar, the dagger the King had given the Princess now stuck in the boar’s corpse, the embers of the night camp’s fire, and…
The golden dragon was crouched to the side, its golden eyes fixed on him with a hint of warning.
“We will escort you both back to camp,” Harrold said in a tone that brokered no argument.
“His Majesty was very worried and did not sleep all night.”
Rhaenyra nodded and picked up Aegon.
She walked toward that little white horse she had “borrowed” before her escape—it had miraculously not run far during last night’s chaos and was grazing at the edge of the clearing.
As she passed by Cole, she paused.
“Ser Criston,” she said softly, without looking at him, “thank you.”
Cole bowed slightly.
“It was my honor, Princess.”
Rhaenyra mounted the horse, holding Aegon, and followed Harrold’s group back toward the camp.
Sunfyre followed behind, its not-yet-massive golden body moving through the woods like a loyal guardian.
Cole stood where he was, clearing the surrounding traces and watching the group depart.
The sunlight grew brighter, dispelling the last shadows in the woods.
He looked down at his hands—they were still trembling slightly.
Not out of fear, but because of the shock of that scene.
The White Hart, the Prince, the dragon, the Princess.
He thought of the words in his vow: “I shall guard the royal family until my death.”
Once, these were just words, but now…
On the way back to camp, Aegon leaned against Rhaenyra’s shoulder, his eyes half-closed.
The system panel was still flickering deep in his consciousness, displaying the “White Harts Blessing” icon.
He could feel a subtle change—not a physical one, but…
in his presence.
When he looked at the squires in the party, there was something more in their returning gazes—not just polite attention for a Prince, but a deeper, more conscious stare.
King’s Presence…
it had already begun to take effect.
Rhaenyra was also very quiet.
Her arms holding Aegon were tighter than usual, but her movements were gentle.
After the pre-dawn outburst and the sacred moment of the morning, she seemed to have changed as well.
That sharp, ever-tense anger had vanished, replaced by something much deeper.
Aegon looked up at her and found that she was also looking down at him.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Sister…
not angry anymore?” Aegon asked.
Rhaenyra was silent for a few seconds, then nodded slightly.
“Not angry anymore,” she said, looking at the sunlight filtering through the trees ahead.
“At least…
Not that angry.
What you said last night, and the White Hart…
they made me realize a few things.”
“What things?”
Rhaenyra did not answer immediately.
She looked at the boar’s carcass being handled by the squires behind her, at the smoke from the camp’s fires becoming clearer in the distance, at the banners circling above the camp, and at the world they were about to return to—
That world full of politics, calculation, marriage, and inheritance.
“Perhaps,” she finally said, “some things cannot be changed.
Like my identity, my responsibilities, and everything I must face.
But some things…”
She lowered her head, her forehead gently resting against Aegon’s.
“Some things are a choice.
For instance, I will protect you, and you will protect me.
We will be together forever.”
Aegon reached out a small hand and touched her face.
“Together forever,” he repeated.
Rhaenyra smiled.
It was a genuine smile, not the courtly mask she had used to deal with the nobles in camp these past few days, nor a forced compromise, but a warm smile from the heart.
“Yes, together forever.”
The party continued forward, Sunfyre following closely behind, its golden scales shimmering in the sunlight.
The camp’s horns sounded in the distance, welcoming the Prince and Princess back.
Deep in the forest, the White Hart stood by an ancient sacred stone, its amber eyes watching the direction they had gone.
Sunlight flowed over it, its pure white fur as holy as snow.
Hoofprints glowed on the sacred stone, like a prophecy, like a blessing, and like—
A witness.