New chapter is live.
Settle in, take your time, and let’s see what waits in the dark 🖤 ✦ “Thank you, Prince.” With Aelor’s assurance in hand, Ser Arryk thanked him sincerely and led him and Erryk into the royal camp.
Viserys had spent the night furious and disappointed.
Not only in his children.
In himself.
As a king, his men had gone to war without his leave.
That was his weakness.
As a father, he had failed to guide his children properly.
That was his failure.
After a long night of Alicent’s counsel, Viserys had spoken more honestly than he usually allowed himself and decided he had to do something.
When Aelor entered the king’s pavilion, he saw Viserys seated in the place of honor.
The nobles who had filled the camp with celebration the day before were gone.
Even the ministers he trusted were absent.
“Father, I have returned.” Aelor greeted him first, facing a father who looked anything but pleased.
Viserys ignored him.
His cold gaze fell on Erryk instead.
“White cloak,” the king said, “tell your king what crime is committed when a knight takes a prince beyond the camp without leave.” Erryk dropped to one knee.
His voice tightened with unease.
“Treason, Your Grace.” “Good.
You still remember the laws of the realm.
For a moment, I wondered if you had forgotten them entirely.” Viserys gave a laugh without warmth.
“Guards.
Take this traitor outside and strike off his head.” He was truly angry.
Daemon and the Sea Snake had started a war behind his back.
His lords questioned the heir he had named.
The daughter he loved refused to understand what he thought best for her.
And now even a sworn white cloak dared ignore his will and take his frail eldest son into the Kingswood.
What was he trying to do?
What would he not dare?
If Viserys did not punish this harshly, what would stop every lord, prince, and knight in the realm from treating the king’s authority as a thing to be bent?
Footsteps sounded outside the pavilion.
Erryk closed his eyes as if accepting judgment.
Arryk’s expression changed.
From his place below the king, he secretly signaled to Aelor.
It shamed the honor of the white cloak, but the little prince was the only lifeline his brother had.
Aelor kept his promise.
The moment Viserys gave the order, Aelor stepped in front of Erryk.
“Father,” he said, deliberately puzzled, “why punish Ser Erryk?
There must be some misunderstanding.” Viserys rounded on him.
“Silence.
Do not think that because I have not named you, you stand outside this matter.” His voice cut through the pavilion.
“I already heard the truth from a stableman.
Erryk has earned his fate, and you bear no small part of the blame.” Aelor’s face stiffened.
So his little trick had been seen through from the beginning.
The guards entered the pavilion.
With brisk, practiced hands, they stripped the white cloak from Erryk’s shoulders and took his sword.
“Stop.
You cannot treat him like this.” Aelor spread his arms before the kneeling knight and blocked them.
“Do you defy the will of your king and father as well?” Viserys roared.
He ordered the guards to take Aelor away.
“Let go of me.
You do not need to drag me before my own father.” Aelor twisted free.
The guards did not dare hurt the king’s son, so they turned back to Erryk, who offered no resistance.
“Prince,” Erryk said quietly as they bound him, “do not anger the king further.” He would not let a condemned man become the spark that woke the dragon in Viserys.
Nor was he naive enough to expect a child to save him.
He had known this might be waiting when he returned.
“I said I would bear the consequences.
Targaryens keep their word.” Aelor shouldered past a guard and faced his father directly.
“Father, I am well.
My sickness is gone, and Ser Erryk helped make that possible.” Viserys scoffed.
“I know Ser Erryk is a knight.
I did not know he had become an herbalist.” “Believe me.
There is a white hart in the Kingswood.
It gave me a blessed fruit, and that fruit restored my health.” Aelor threw out the most important piece of news he had, hoping it would overturn Erryk’s sentence.
At the mention of the white hart, doubt flickered in Viserys’s eyes.
“A white hart cured you with a fruit?” Only yesterday, Lyonel Strong had reported that a white hart had been sighted in the Kingswood.
Jason Lannister had even presented the king with a golden spear and urged him to hunt the creature with it.
Viserys had entered the woods under heavy guard.
He had not seen the white hart.
He had killed only an ordinary stag.
Aelor had left the camp before all of that.
He should not have known.
Which meant his claim might be true.
Aelor did not know how many thoughts had crossed his father’s mind in that instant.
He only nodded.
“Yes.
A white hart, pure white from head to hoof.
I shared my fruit with it, and it gave me a fruit in return.
One that healed me.” Then he added, very seriously, “We are friends.” Viserys laughed.
“That is the finest tale I have heard all year.” He shook his head, plainly unwilling to believe the story had not grown from a child’s fancy.
Aelor’s face did not change.
“Ser Erryk can bear witness.
You may also summon every maester and physician traveling with us.
I promise my body is recovering.” His certainty moved Viserys.
The king looked at Erryk, who was still silent and kneeling.
“Erryk,” Viserys said, “while you still stand before me as a knight, tell your king the truth.” “Every word the prince spoke is true, Your Grace.” Viserys lowered his eyes and fell silent.
No one in the pavilion knew what he was thinking.
For a time, only breathing could be heard.
At last, Viserys looked to Arryk.
“Do you believe your brother and Prince Aelor?” “I trust my brother as Your Grace trusts his own child,” Arryk answered without hesitation.
Viserys said nothing more on the matter.
“Fetch the traveling maesters.
Bring the physicians and healers attached to the nobles and knights as well.
Every last one of them.” “As you command.” Arryk’s voice rang clearly as he lifted the tent flap and hurried out.
The change eased the tension in the pavilion.
The guards exchanged uncertain looks, then stepped back and stood to either side.
Aelor looked at Viserys.
“Father, do you believe me?” “If it means you are healthy, I would rather your story be true.” Until there was proof, Viserys kept his feelings restrained.
He studied his young son in silence.
In truth, he already half believed him.
Two months earlier, after one of Aelor’s regular examinations, the Grand Maester had told him the truth.
The prince’s heart was failing.
If the decline continued, he would struggle to live past ten.
Viserys had asked whether anything could be done.
There had been no good answer.
In this world, a failing heart was a death sentence.
It could not be cured.
It could barely be eased.
Viserys had believed his eldest son had little time left, and so he had avoided seeing him more than he should.
As the boy’s father, even as king, he had lacked the courage to face it calmly.
But just now, Aelor had argued with him.
His little face was still pale.
Yet his voice was strong.
There was strength in his posture and power in his words.
He was, without question, a child of Old Valyria.
✦ ✦ ✦ Want to keep going?
I hope this chapter gave you another reason to stay with the story.
There’s still plenty ahead, and things are only starting to unfold.