'Cloud, moon, sun, and star. These are a dragon's best friend.'
-From: 'A Treatise on Dragons', by Rhaenar I Targaryen
><>
As predicted, there was not a cloud in the sky, the waxing moon overhead.
It was not alone. Countless stars formed the heavens as if the darkness had been pierced by a million arrows.
The campfire was a busy scene upon Alicent's return. The entire setup was already complete. At the corner section of the wall — the bastion, as they called it — cushions, blankets, barrels, and wooden benches encircled a roaring fire.
Nearby, baskets filled with cheese, nuts, and fruit awaited hungry hands. A lute leaned against the wall.
A table had been brought in for the assortment of ingredients and cooking equipment.
Rhaenyra observed her brother as he engrossed himself with various tasks. Chopping carrots, onions, garlic, leeks, and a variety of other ingredients, some familiar, most not.
She closed her eyes and savored the aroma of sage and rosemary wafting through the air. She loved the sound of knife against chopping board.
But more than anything, she simply enjoyed watching Rhaenar as he worked. He was quite charming when he played the scallion.
"Ah, Lady Alicent," Rhaenar greeted, "You're just in time. Take a seat."
He then retrieved a peculiar-looking pot and placed it on the grill over the fire. With a chunk of lard, he greased the pot's surface, swirling it around with the long handle.
"What's that?" Rhaenyra said.
"We call this a Wok," Rhaenar said. "We cook most of our meals in camp with this. For tonight, you eat like a proper soldier girl."
As her stomach growled, Rhaenyra observed her brother dropping various ingredients into the wok. She came to love the sizzle, the aroma of garlic.
Then Rhaenar opened a jar and held it up to Alicent and Rhaenyra's noses.
"Mmm, smells good," Alicent said. Rhaenyra wrinkled her nose.
"It's plum sauce," Rhaenar said. "Fermented with vinegar and sugar. Very strong. Adds that extra touch. And it has a long shelf life, perfect for the campaign trail."
Rhaenar allowed the sauce to evaporate and absorb to the point where there was a little pool of it left at the bottom. Satisfied, he then divided the contents into three bowls. Steam rose enticingly.
"There you go. Not exactly fine dining, but hey, the secret ingredient is love."
Rhaenyra giggled, "Love's not an ingredient."
"Why not? It is in art."
A comfortable silence followed as they enjoyed the food. After they finished, they placed their dishes on the nearby table and settled into comfortable seats.
Rhaenyra sat on a cushion, hugging her knees as she watched Rhaenar tend to the campfire.
"Tell me something, brother."
"Something."
"No, like a story."
"How about all those times you wet the bed?"
"Rhaenar!"
Alicent smirked at their playful banter. It occurred to her that Rhaenar could be just as disagreeable. Was that their twin superpower?
"My stories are boring," Rhaenar said, "Surely you two have heard some juicy court gossip?"
Right in Alicent's wheelhouse. "I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress."
Rhaenar gasped dramatically, "How scandalous! Who could the father be, I wonder?"
Rhaenyra peered at the fire, pondering, "How come men can father many bastards without reprieve while women have to stay prim and proper?"
"Is that a genuine question?" Rhaenar asked, amused. "Because of power, of course. Our whole social structure is predicated on it.
"You have the ruler and the ruled. Lord and subject. The standards placed on women are simply the men upholding a status quo, in fear of relinquishing even an inch of ground."
It wasn't the answer Rhaenyra wanted. "So men are cowards."
"The biggest cowards of them all. The more they have, the more fearful they are of losing it. Thus, each lord vies to increase their power in the hope of retaining what they already possess.
"The more they do that, the more they acquire and the more they need to obtain additional power to protect it. Like some fucked up feedback loop."
Rhaenar shook his head at the colossal situation he found himself in, "Imagine the fear that Father walks around with each day. As a famous playwright once said, 'Heavy is the head that wears the crown'."
"Which playwright was that?" Alicent said.
Rhaenar shrugged, "You wouldn't know him."
But Rhaenyra couldn't shake the subject.
She didn't like how Rhaenar spoke so candidly about that which imprisoned them. She didn't know what was worse: that everyone turned a blind eye and sleepwalked through social convention, or how Rhaenar called it so bluntly and matter-of-fact.
"It's a game to them," she said bitterly, "Women are pawns on the board of men. Playthings to do as they please."
Rhaenar seemed genuinely impressed, "A game is a great way to look at it! The Iron Throne is the ultimate prize. Once you get that, dear sister, your world will never be the same."
For a moment, Rhaenyra gazed into the flames in deep thought. Then she said, "Father doesn't think of us as board pieces, does he?"
"You'd have to ask him yourself," Rhaenar replied. "Everyone else in court certainly does. How they go about it manifests in different ways.
"There's not a single person who speaks to us simply out of friendship. They all vie for their prince and princess, hoping to angle for future advantage.
"It's like an investment. The only person I know for certain who has no agenda toward us is Mother. Her love is absolute."
"Hey!" Rhaenyra exclaimed, insulted, "I love you!"
"Not like Mother," Rhaenar dismissed, "Hers is a love incomprehensible. I doubt we'll ever understand it until we have children of our own. Even then, I'm not sure."
Alicent could feel the tears threatening to spill. Rhaenar saw her anguish and sighed, noting how her hazel eyes flickered with every memory.
He placed a hand heart, "Apologies, my lady. All this talk of mothers, when yours passed only recently."
Alicent fiddled with her fingers, "It's quite alright, my prince. What you said made me feel lonely, is all."
"Such is the fate that awaits us all. Lonely but never alone~"
An awkward silence. Thankfully, it was Rhaenyra who sensed the mood needed a shift.
"Enough of this dismal talk, brother. Do we have any wine?"
Rhaenar chuckled softly, "I'm insulted you even asked."