The Dragon & The Wolf - XXVIII (Patreon)

Chapter XXVIII : Clinging to hope.

Rhaenyra knew she could not be seen exiting her room, so after she was done with her supper, she used the secret passage her uncle had shown her. She felt a pang in her heart when she remembered how Arthur had surprised her by using it to enter her room, and another when she remembered the night they spent together in the streets of King’s Landing. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and entered the darkness of Maegor’s secret maze. She did not need to go very far, Arthur’s former room was not occupied and was unlocked. Her father and Alicent were having dinner, her Kingsguards were at her door or at theirs, and if no one saw her hair, then no one would recognize her. Which was why she had put on her old Nyra Waters’ disguise. The make up was unnecessary so she did not wear it.
However, she stopped herself on her way to Arthur’s room when the candle she was carrying to lighten her way, illuminated empty cages. She remembered that Arthur had filled them with rats and had refused to tell her why.

"I hope he did not release them." She thought, disgusted. "We have enough of them already in the Keep." 

Getting the rats out of her head, she walked to the secret door that led to Arthur’s room and opened it.

As she had anticipated, no one was inside. Rhaenyra did not waste time, she silently walked toward the door, peeked in the keyhole to make sure no one was outside, and got out.

Was she surprised when no one paid attention to her? Not really. She would not have paid attention to a red head in a plain dark purple dress either. 

Her destination was deep into the castle’s foundations, where guards were not used to see people. When she got down the spiral staircase, one of them walked toward her with furious eyes.

"You’re not allowed to be down there." He said, his voice gruff and his tone menacing.
"I’m allowed to go wherever I please." Rhaenyra answered, removing her wig.

The guard stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Princess?" He had traded his threatening tone for a confused one. "What are you wearing?"

That got him a light slap. In an instant, he remembered to whom he was speaking.

"My sincerest apologies." He mumbled.

"It’s alright, good man." She said with a vibrant smiled that melted him in a second.

She pulled a gold dragon out of the small purse she was carrying and gave it to him.

"You did not see me." She instructed him, he nodded.

"But what if the King…"

"If the King asks you if you have seen me, you will answer him honestly. But no one else."

Her Father rarely went down there, and he would never think of looking for her in this place.

The guard nodded and let her pass, she did not need to wear her wig for now so she kept it under her arm.

She encountered more than a dozen guards in the depths of the Keep, and rewarded each of their silence with a gold dragon, she had taken twenty before she had left her room, by the time she stood in front of the massive doors that guarded her destination, she only had six left.

The two guards that were guarding the doors did not ask her questions, they opened it, and she paid them anyway. She felt that she needed to, if not, they would have realized that they had been the only ones who had not been paid, and they could have reported her whereabouts to her father out of spite. 

Once the massive doors closed behind her, she sighed in dismay as she realized that things would not go as easy as she had planned.
She was in the treasure room, and the treasure room was… a mess.

Everywhere she looked, she saw small mountains of gold, gems, jewels, chests, and silver and she got tired just looking at them. How was she supposed to find one object in a room so large she could not see its fourth wall?

She slapped both her cheeks and started thinking, she needed a plan, she had no use for despair.
"This room was built by Aegon the first so… no… Maegor built this castle." 

She shook her head.

"Maegor finished building the castle, but its construction started during Aegon’s rule, and the first thing he would have done was to secure his spoils. So… You’re Aegon the first, you’ve just been crowned, you need to secure your treasure because you need it to secure your position as King…"

She put her face in her hand. 

"Maegor nearly bankrupted the Crown… So this room has not always been this full… What I’m looking for is probably at the bottom."

She looked at it once more… even the ground was covered in gold, she shook her head once more.

"Who would have thought that being so rich could be such a pain?" She joked for herself.
Walking on gold was a ridiculous experience, for she felt like a toddler trying to take her first steps. She nearly fell backwards five times, and got her leg stuck once as it sank in gold coins. Freeing herself from this golden swamp took her efforts she was not used to make, her arms ended up being more tired than her legs.
"The things I do for love." She grumbled as she went deeper and deeper into the treasure room, with nothing but a candleholder. Fortunately, she had brought more candles with her, as well as  matches. She would not lose herself in the dark today.
When she reached the bottom though, she almost lost hope, she found no difference from the entrance. Gold, silver, jewels and chests. She threw her arms in the air.

"For the love of the Gods, Aegon." She grumbled. "Were you unable to organize anything beside a Conquest?"

Rhaenyra refused to lose hope, she had gotten this far and the Old Gods of the First Men had gifted her a chance to make things right. She was not going to waste it because of a stupid pile of gold coins.

She frowned at said coins… Perhaps she had thought too quickly, there was a difference: the coins were smaller than the ones at the entrance. She picked one and looked at it, the sigil of a house that had gone instinct more than a century ago was still engraved on it.

"House Gardener." She murmured. "Aegon had defeated them before the Starks… I must be close."

She looked at the piles of gold… What she was looking for could not possibly be under those, there were still plenty of space after all.

"Aegon would not have thrown it away in here like another bag of gold." She supposed. "It must be in a chest somewhere… With the others."

Unfortunately, there were multiple chests at the bottom, and not all of them were easy to access as some were on the top of small mountains of gold. Rhaenyra could not possibly imagine what kind of person was stupid enough to put them this high.

She started with the ones close to her, but found nothing but pieces of armor and weapons of all kinds. Aegon must have kept those as trophies from the enemies he had defeated. The swords, he had kept for his throne.

She mustered her courage and climbed the different piles of gold to open more chests, but in those, she found nothing but sapphires, rubies, emeralds, gold, silver, a helmet, the Crown of the Kings of the Roc, but still not trace of what she was looking for.

"I’m close." She thought as she tossed the Lannister crown back in its chest. "I am so damn close."

Where could Aegon have put it? He took no spoils from the Starks and they did not pay taxes until many years after their surrender. So where could it be?

She was so absorbed by her search she had not realized that her candle was close to its end, when the light went out, she instantly panicked.

"Fuck!" She cursed. 

She pulled out her matches in the dark and cracked one to light another candle. She cursed once again.

"Are there no holders in this Seven damned room?" She asked aloud as she scanned the walls in search of one.

When she saw it, she cursed at how far she was from it, she slid down the pile of gold she had been on and walked toward it.
And then she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widened in awe and she gasped in surprise, for she could not believe what was hanging on it.

She stood there for a second, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her. But the closer she got, the better her candle illuminated it, and she started running towards it as soon as she was certain that this was no illusion.

Once she got close enough to touch it, she carefully brought her candle close to examine it. There was no place for a mistake, she had found it!

She took her burning candle off and put it on the holder fixed on the wall to have both her hands free. She then removed the object she had been looking for from the holder it had been hanged on, and cleaned it off its dust with her dress to get a better look at it.
In her hands, was the Crown of Winter of the Kings in the North, the same crown Torrhen Stark had surrendered to Aegon the Conqueror in the dream the Old Gods had blessed her with.

Tears of happiness streamed down Rhaenyra's cheeks and fell onto the bronze head of the dire wolf. She held it close to her heart and, through her tears, released the emotions she had stored up for moons. Hope coursed through her veins and a shiver of excitement ran down her spine. She had found it, the key to her redemption, her only way to right the wrong she had done to House Stark.

She had been so overjoyed that she never noticed the rat that was looking at her, hidden in the dark.

(-)(-)(-)

Cregan Stark had kept Ice on him since Arthur had taught him how to clean it and sharpen it.
He had kept it during his meals, he had kept it close to his bath, he even slept with it, holding it as if he was clinging to the strength of his ancestors.
He could not learn how to wield it yet, the sword was almost twice his size, and though it was light, Cregan could not keep a balanced stance as he stroke, so Arthur had forbade him from practicing with it. When the little Lord had tried to protest, his cousin had unsheathed Ice and shown him how it was supposed to be wielded. Cregan had lost the argument the moment Arthur had started wielding the greatsword as if it had been one of his own limbs. Cregan saw the weapon spin around his cousin as if it was alive and genuinely protecting him. Despite its size, Arthur kept it close to him, making the blade slide on his clothes to keep its speed and compensate for the large movements required to wield it. Cregan could not do any of this, Cregan had felt so small.
Arthur had planted the sword in front of his cousin, and said:

"This sword is your sword, Cregan, for you are Lord. In time, I will teach you how to wield it, and when the time comes, you will teach your son and heir how to wield it. But for now, you must learn how to take care of it, clean it, sharpen it, maintain it. Once you grow strong, your life will depend on that blade, so do your best.
Cregan had done so, and had tried to do more. As a squire, Cregan was expected to saddle his cousin’s horse and maintain his armor, but Arthur had forbade it.

Arthur wanted him to spar, train, study the Wall under the Maester’s watchful eye. Cregan also took part in all the Lords council’s session to learn how to lead, listen, reward and refuse. There was so much to learn every day that the little Lord always went to bed with his head thick as a brick.
Sara had tried to convince Arthur to go easy on Cregan, she had also vehemently protested against the idea of bringing Cregan to the Wall.
"He won’t be a boy forever." The Regent had replied, his tone firm. "He will be on top of the Wall, where it is the safest, no wildling nor any of their arrows will reach him. He will have Giant and Shadow at his side. Nothing will happen to him."

Cregan knew his sister was too stubborn to listen to Arthur, so she went to their father, hoping he would overrule their cousin’s order. But judging by the face she had made when she had come out, Lord Rickon had denied her request.
Cregan himself had visited his father, hoping the latter would reassure him, would be proud to see him carrying Ice everywhere he went. However, Lord Rickon had looked far too tired and burning with fever to make complete sentences. So, when he had seen his son, he had smiled, weakly ruffled his curly hair, and stammered:

"You… are… Stark. Be… Stark…"

Cregan had not needed more, and never questioned Arthur’s lessons. He was a Stark… A Stark!

The day before their departure, Cregan had come to the Lord’s solar, expecting a new lesson from his cousin. But Arthur was about to depart when he arrived. 

"Come." He said. "It is time for you to meet your future banner men."

The Godswood was their destination, and their dire wolves were on their heels, once they arrived in front of the weir wood, Arthur had picked a log to sit on it. Cregan stood next to him, he asked no question, he just waited. Both Giant and Shadow went to rest next to them.
Soon, their guests arrived. The little Lord had learned all of their names, as they were all friends to his cousin: Erick Bolton, Rogar Umber, Theomore Karstark, William Dustin, Desmond Manderly and Geralt Forrester.
Cregan knew Rogar and Geralt were Arthur’s most faithful friends, Erick on the other hand… Cregan did not like him, he was scary and disgusting.

Rogar Umber, who was taller than Arthur and Cregan’s father, looked at the little Lord with amused brown eyes.

"So that is our future warden, mmh? ‘Never seen a lord so small."

He laughed at his own joke, Cregan frowned in anger.

"Well I have never seen a cunt so fat!" He declared as he pointed his finger at the large man. "I did not know it made such noise either!"

The whistling of a strong wind was the only thing that could be heard in the Godswood during five seconds of silence that followed the little lord’s outburst, then, Rogar’s laugh boomed and scared away the crows that were resting in the trees.

The others joined him, even Arthur laughed in exasperation. He had instantly known Cregan had learned those words from Sara.
"What a good boy you’ve got there, Arthur!" Umber kept laughing. "You’re teaching him well! He will be one hell of a Lord."

He made to ruffle the boy’s hair, but Giant instantly jumped in front of him and bared his teeth, growling. Rogar wisely retracted his hand.

"Meh." He spat on the ground. "Yes, he is your cousin, that one."

Arthur rose a hand to ease the tension, he knew what his friend was referring to.

"If I remember correctly, you tried to take command without earning it, up there in the Frostfangs. Had I bowed, you would have had us rush like the green boys we were and Gerestre would have eaten you alive. So don’t blame us, Starks, if we don’t trust easily."

Umber blushed in anger and shame.

"For fuck’s sake, will you stop reminding me of this?! I killed the fucker didn’t I?"

"We know, Umber." Theomore Karstark rolled his eyes. "You bragged about it all the way back to Castleblack."

"I sure did! Because I killed the mad cannibalistic beast to feed the crows!" He boasted and pointed his massive finger at Arthur. "And I call this bastard who broke my nose four years ago, a friend! I ain’t an ungrateful shit, like you, Karstark! I saved your ass up there!"

Theomore sighed in frustration.

"Fuck you, Rogar. I will pay my debt and never let you forget about it, you hear me?"

"Ah! You wish! You think Daggon Head-fucker will choose Castleblack as its target? I fucking hope so, I will kill him before you will be done pissing yourself, Karstark."

"All right, boys, that is enough." Arthur said with a small smile, he had missed his friends. "Even though I would love nothing more than to drink and trade insults with the lot of you, we have a battle to plan."

He got up, his friends were all given him their undivided attention.

"You really think that Wildling King will attack Castleblack?" Geralt Forrester asked. "It is the strongest of the nineteen castles, the Wall will be at its strongest there."

"That is precisely why he will attack us." Arthur said. "You think a man that calls himself ‘Daggon Head-Snatcher’, that has forged his crown in the blood of his enemies, will try to break down the Wall attacking one of the smallest castles? No. That man is a half-giant, thirsty for blood and glory. He will attack the Wall’s strongest point, or never will. Why do you think I’m bringing you all?"

Erick cackled at his words.

"So clever…" He murmured. "So clever indeed…"

"Why did you send all of the Lords along the Wall if you’re so sure that he will attack Castleblack?" William Dustin asked, ignoring Bolton.

"If I’m wrong, I’d rather be safe than sorry."

Dustin nodded, satisfied with this explanation.

"Our fathers won’t like this." Desmond Manderly warned.

"Won’t like what? That their sons will be making names for themselves? That you will fight in the name of your houses in the absence of your fathers? A wildling invasion is not a pissing contest. I’m bringing you all with me because I trust you, because I know that together, we work better than any of our fathers alone. This is not about songs, or legends or whatever the fuck any selfish bastard would think about. This is about defending our home and slaying a monster. Make no mistake, some of us could die out here. There won’t be songs about your deaths, your names will be mentioned in the list of victims and nothing more. Either we fight together and watch each other’s back, or we stay here, we remain children and we let our fathers fight our own battles. What do you chose?"

Cregan observed Arthur like he had observed him so many times in the past few moons. Cregan was in awe by his cousin’s political skills. By choosing himself to defend Castleblack, Arthur had established his dominance as Regent of the North. By choosing his friends to come along, Arthur would have people he trusts to delegate. By bringing the sons of all the noble northern houses, Arthur was honoring the entire North with this battle to come. If the Lords among the Wall ended up going home without a single wildling slayed by their own hands, they would at least be able to brag about their sons, who would have brought honor and glory to their house. In other words, none of them would go home empty handed, and the heirs’ bonds with Arthur would strengthen.
Arthur had explained all of this to Cregan the day before, the hardest part in being Lord of Winterfell was to keep all of the Northern Lords satisfied. You rarely managed to achieve it, and should one of Arthur’s friends die at the hands of the wildlings, then the loyalty of their fathers would waver, and Arthur would be held responsible for his death. Nothing was ever certain, Arthur’s strategy could backlash badly, should an unfortunate event occur.

Arthur had also told his cousin why he was bringing him with them. This battle between wildlings and Northerners could shape the relationships between their Houses for generations. Cregan needed to be there so that his future banner men remembered him and started respecting him.

"You won’t fight." Arthur had said the day before. "But you will be our errand boy, we will expect you to bring us arrows, to deliver messages, to fix our bows and crossbows, to blow the warning horn and many more things. In a decade, they will remember the brave little Lord who was doing his part despite his young age and they will trust you and respect you, because they will have seen your courage and will know they could count on you."

Today, Cregan was learning how to be a commander. Watching as Arthur rallied his men and motivated them, giving them duties while quenching their anger should they protest. Cregan wondered if his cousin was afraid, and remembered that idiots were the only ones that were not afraid before a battle.

Then Umber spoke about the one subject Arthur did not like to talk about:

"Say, is it true what they say, about you and the Princess?"

The Lord Regent froze for a second, his gaze turned dangerous in an instant.

"And what do they say?"

"A great many things." Geralt Forrester said. "That you two were in love, that you have dishonored her…"

"I have never done anything like this." Arthur defended himself.

"This I can believe." Rogar said. "But we know you, Arthur, and we’ve seen you in love before."

Arthur did not answer, he remained stoic as stone.

All heirs rose their eyebrows in surprise.

"By the Gods." Rogar spoke again. "You really love that dragon girl."

"Enough." Arthur said, his voice colder than the Wall. "Whatever happened between Rhaenyra Targaryen and myself, happened. It is in the past now. I did not dishonor her, she did."

"Did you kiss her?" Rogar asked, ignoring his tone.

Arthur rolled his eyes, no one noticed how jealous Erick Bolton looked.

"How old are you, nine?" 

"Was she beautiful?" Theomore asked.

"You’re questioning my taste in women?" Arthur said in mock outrage.

Everyone laughed at that, except Bolton.

"You have a knack for picking the most complicated ones." Geralt pointed out.

"Fuck off, Forrester." Was Arthur’s eloquent response.

And they laughed again, even Cregan.

"Come now." Rogar boomed. "H’about we all share a horn of ale before we depart for the Wall? This way, Arthur here can tell us all about his southern Princess."

"I’d rather not talk about her. But a horn of ale sounds good."

William Dustin snorted. 

"Look at you, the great Arthur Stark, wildling killer, manipulator of southerners, Lord Regent of Winterfell. He fears nothing but pretty girls."

"Let’s hope the Head-Snatcher doesn’t have any with him." Theomore laughed. "Otherwise, we’re fucked."

"No, I’ll be fucked." Arthur said. "You lot will just be dead."

Everyone laughed at that, Rogar Umber being the loudest of them all. Cregan did not laugh this time, though. Because, if you looked closely in the grey eyes of his cousin, you could see the sadness that the memory of the Princess had caused.

(-)(-)(-)

Rhaenyra had returned to her room with the Crown of Winter hidden in a canvas bag and over forty gold dragons in her purse.

She had quickly put on her nightgown and gone to bed with her loot hidden under her pillow.

She had been so exhausted by the trials of her day that she had almost instantly fell asleep, and this time, her dream had not ended in ash.
However, she had slept for quite a long time, and when Maester Runciter came to visit her, she had not yet broken her fast.
Just like she predicted, the old Grandmaester had recommended her to eat more and sleep more and had offered to bring her dream wine to help her sleep. But she had refused, all she wanted was to break her fast and put her plan into action.

Once the Grandmaester was gone and her belly had been filled. She asked her handmaiden to dress her with her dragonrider’s attire. She considered taking more, but chose against it. She did not want to raise suspicions, if her Kingsguards saw her depart for the Dragonpit with a heavy bag, they would know she was up to something. She had filled her purse with Gardener’s gold coins, smaller than the coins engraved with her father’s face and therefore, easier to conceal and carry.

A problem remained though, how could she hide the crown? The fact that it was big and made of heavy bronze did not make her task easier. 

A knock at her door pulled her out of her thoughts. 

"Who is it?"

"Princess?" The voice of Ser Erryk -or was it Arryk?- rose from behind the door. "The King is summoning you."

Rhaenyra almost roared in frustration, yet she quickly gathered her thoughts. She could not hide the crown in her room, she could not risk her handmaidens finding it when they would come to change her sheets and clean her chambers. So she hid it in the only place where she knew they would not look: behind the door of the secret passage, hidden in the canvas bag.

Once she was done, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and opened her door. Both Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk were waiting for her and after she greeted them, she followed them. Wondering what was so urgent that her father could not have waited for lunch.

(-)(-)(-)

Viserys Targaryen was sitting in his bedchambers, he had placed his Valyrian steel dagger in a basin of fire, a reproduction of one of Valyria’s fourteen flames for his model. Then, he waited for his daughter to answer his summons.

She soon arrived, wearing her dragon rider’s attire, flanked with the Cargyll twins who closed the door behind her. She looked frustrated… Had he been too insistent? Should he have allowed her more space?
It did not matter, he needed answers from her today. And she needed to be reminded of her most important duty.

"You look full of energy today." Viserys said.

"I slept like a baby." 

"And I dreamt of babies that did not turn to ash." She added in her mind.

"What do you need me for, Father?"

The King pointed at his dagger, he spoke with a tone laced with nostalgia.

"That dagger, once belonged to Aegon the Conqueror. It was Aenar’s before that. And before that… Well it is difficult to know."

Viserys took the dagger that was resting on the flame and passed it to Rhaenyra.

"Before Aegon’s death, the last of the Valyrian Pyromancers hid his song in the steel."

Rhaenyra frowned, then her eyes widened in awe when she saw the message that had been engraved in the blade, she read:

"From my blood, comes the Prince that was promised, and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire."

Rhaenyra looked at her father, the King’s face was solemn, as if this message was a manifestation of the Gods themselves.

"The responsibility, I have handed to you, the burden of this knowledge, it is larger than the Throne, the King and you."

Viserys looked at his dagger one last time, then he picked the dagger’s scabbard, cooled the blade in a basin of water and sheathed it.

"What were you looking for, in the treasure room?"

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened in fear and confusion.

"How can you possibly…?"

"The guards." Viserys lied.

Rhaenyra stomped her foot, enraged.

"Curse them." She spat in fury. "I paid them a gold dragon each, I will feed them to Syrax."

"You will do no such thing." Viserys said. "Now tell me."

Rhaenyra crossed her arms, the flames reflections in her purple eyes turned her gaze into a dragon’s.
"No." She said, her tone harder than steel. "I’d rather surrender my claim to the Throne than tell you."

In an instant, she had disarmed her father who looked as horrified as he was flabbergasted.

"You… You…" He stuttered. "You do not know what you are saying! Have you not listened to a word I have said?! This dream… It is the most important thing in our House!"

"Really?" Rhaenyra did not know whether she should be crying or laughing. "Was it more important than Mother?"

A moment of silence passed, then another, the Realm’s Delight could tell that her words had cut deeper than she’d expected, her father now looked both exhausted and broken.

She saw him took a few steps back in horror and sat abruptly on a chair, he sighed in sorrow and despair.

"Look at what this dream of yours has done to you, to our family." Rhaenyra said, she sounded as exhausted as her father. "You killed your own wife for it. It destroyed you so badly that you constantly drink wine to drown your pain. And now you expect me to follow into your footsteps, to live a miserable life so that Aegon’s dream may come true, one day. But the truth is, Father, I have come to realize that I don’t want it."

Viserys rose his head, his gaze was baffled, he looked like he was ready to beg her. Rhaenyra would not let him.

"The life you’re asking me to live is no life." She said. "You want me to keep the Iron Throne warm until the time comes for this so-called Prince to be born. To breed with a man I don’t love, to rule upon a Realm that despises me, to raise children who will never fully be mine, to survive the schemes of my enemies by myself. Father… I…"

Tears of despair ran down her cheeks, blasting away the joy she had felt since she had found the Crown of Winter.

"I cannot succeed if Arthur is not by my side." She confessed between her sobs. "I would die out of misery long before my hair turned grey."

Rhaenyra wiped her tears with her sleeve, mentioning her wolf had helped her refocus on her current goal.

"You want to know what I have found in the treasure room? My last chance at redemption. My last! No one will take it away from me! Not you, not Aegon, not his seven damned dream! You say it is larger than me, well good! It means it is not destined to me, give it to Daemon, give it to Aegon, leave me and what little joy I’m trying to find, alone!"

She had not intended to scream, she had not wanted to hurt her father, but he was in her way, pretending there were things more important than the ones you loved when he, himself, knew it was a lie. This dream was not the most important thing in Viserys’ life, it was all he had left because he had ruined the rest. Rhaenyra would not follow in his footsteps.

Viserys did not answer, he too was crying. He unsheathed the dagger and looked at it, or rather he tried to look at it, because all he could see was Aemma’s face.

He closed his eyes, he held the dagger so tightly, Rhaenyra thought he was about to slit his wrists, but he simply sheathed it and rose from his seat.

"Perhaps…" He sounded even more exhausted than he looked. "Perhaps you are right… Perhaps you are wiser than I will ever be."

He looked up to contemplate something, Rhaenyra followed his gaze, and discovered the head of the White Hart stuffed above the fireplace. The Realm’s Delight had wanted nothing to do with it after she had presented it to her father, so Viserys had kept it. In his moments of doubt, looking at it had always eased his heart. It was a reminder that, one day, he had taken the right decision.

Once again, he looked at the dagger, sighing in defeat.

"I was never good at understanding the will of the Gods, the dreams of our House, the threads of destiny… Perhaps I have been wrong for a long time and should have listened to you more… Perhaps you know what to do and I don’t."

To Rhaenyra’s surprise, Viserys handed her the dagger, she frowned in confusion.

"I want you to have it." He said. "All the decisions I have taken regarding your future have been wrong, except perhaps, naming you heir and naming Arthur Stark as your adviser."

He smiled a sad smile.

"Perhaps, it is time for me to let you fly on your own wings and trust you. You may feel that the Iron Throne is not for you to sit. But I can feel it in my bones, that the Gods have favored you. More than they have ever favored me. This dagger’s rightful place is in your hands… take it."

Rhaenyra looked at her father, then at the dagger. She felt unsure. This weapon represented what she wanted to avoid. It represented the reason why her mother had died. Yet, at the same time, she felt drawn to it. It was the Conqueror’s dagger, carrying her House’s secret. And it was made of Valyrian steel, like Darksister and Blackfyre. If she could never wield one of those blades, than she at least deserved the dagger.

So she took it, hoping she was not making a mistake. But the smile of relief on her father’s face, helped her to ease her doubts.

(-)(-)(-)

Late in the afternoon, Viserys sat at his balcony to drink wine, to drown the pain this day had caused him and to contemplate on the future.

He still did not know what his daughter had taken from the treasure room, but surprisingly, he did not care as much as he thought he would. Was it this easy, to trust your eldest to do what was right? 

Viserys wondered, had Rhaenyra been a boy, would he have been as worried as he was about her? Probably not, when Aegon would become a man grown, he would have an armor and a sword in addition to a dragon. Rhaenyra… She could not defend herself without Syrax. Placing the dagger in her hands… He knew, deep inside of him, that he had done the right thing. But he hoped she would never have to use it. 

Someone knocked on his door.
"What is it?"

"Your Grace." Ser Arryk called. "Larys Strong is here to see you."

Viserys sighed, he hoped the clubfoot was not about to give him a piece of information as large as his daughter night escape in the treasure room. He wanted to sleep peacefully tonight.
"Let him in."

Larys Strong, second son of Viserys’ new hand, Lord Lyonel, limped in, his cane and foot prothesis were quite noisy, but the King was not about to blame a man for being a cripple.

"Your Grace." Larys said. "I’m sorry to disturb you but, I believe this news to be urgent."

Viserys felt even more tired than he had been after his confrontation with his daughter, and the wine was not helping, he wanted nothing more than to stuck his face in a pillow.

"What is it, Larys?"

The clubfoot looked uncomfortable, had he been able to, he would have swayed from one foot to the other.
"The Princess… She…" He cleared his throat. "I have received news from scouts that she flew above the King’s Road, and that she passed over Sow’s Horn. She is going too far to return before Sunset. I believe she intends to go…"

"North." Viserys completed, he was not even surprised. "She is going North."

He should have seen this coming. Rhaenyra said she had found redemption in the treasure room, she wanted Arthur Stark to forgive her, and she believed she now had the means to earn it, her destination made perfect sense, Viserys almost laughed at his own naivety.

"North." He murmured again. "I have never been North… A mistake on my part, perhaps it is time for me to get out of this castle and to make a royal progress up in the lands of the Starks."

Whatever it was that Larys Strong had expected to hear, Viserys could clearly tell that he had taken the clubfoot by surprise.

"Your Grace…"

"Thank you, Larys, you may leave me." The King did not want to hear anyone’s opinion 

The clubfoot held his cane tighter, bowed and did as he had been told. Though, once he was alone in the comfort of his own chambers, he gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"It is too soon." He whispered in dismay. "Far too soon. Curse them."