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The Following 15 Chapters are available for Patrons.
Chapter 19 (Leaving The North), Chapter 20 (A Song of Happiness), Chapter 21 (A Song of Sorrow), Chapter 22 (Father and Son), Chapter 23 (The Brave Prince), Chapter 24 (The Mourning Dragons), Chapter 25 (Hightower), Chapter 26 (The Council of 101), Chapter 27 (Jaehaerys and Alysanne), Chapter 28 (A Last Talk), Chapter 29 (Set Your Wings Free), Chapter 30 (The Young Dragon), Chapter 31 (A Song for A Lady), and Chapter 32 (The Calm Before) are already available for Patrons.
Aenar Targaryen
As the sun was still high in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow-covered forest floor, the members of the Northern party, all dressed in thick furs and sturdy boots, had been diligently tracking their prey for the past three hours. A group of over thirty skilled horseback riders, led by Lord Benjen, galloped ahead while the remaining twenty members, armed with axes, bows, and swords, quietly trekked through the dense snow, their breaths visible in the chilly air. Despite the grueling terrain and frigid temperatures, the group remained determined to bring back a successful hunt, their hearts racing with anticipation of the thrill of the chase and the reward of a hearty feast upon their return to Winterfell.
The snowfall was so intense that it ranged from one foot to two feet, making it quite challenging for the servants to keep up with the constant shoveling and snow removal with their trusty tools. However, the dense forest surrounding Winterfell was a different story altogether. The snow had reached a staggering four feet deep in several areas, making it almost impossible for any living creature to easily navigate through it. Thankfully, the horses had an innate sense of the depth of the snow, and when they got too close to an area where the snow was too deep, they would start to whine, jump back, and change direction to avoid getting stuck.
As the Northern hunting party trudged through the snow-covered woods, they knew they had already had a successful hunt, having caught six boars. However, Prince Baelon set his sights on a grander prize - an elk. With the end of their trip near, he was determined to return to Winterfell with the spoils of a successful elk hunt. The group had been tracking the elusive creature for hours, following its tracks across the pristine snow and listening to the distant sound of its calls. The hunting dogs, trained for this very purpose, were with them, barking and sniffing, leading the way toward their prey. Prince Baelon knew that the capture of an elk would be a true triumph. So they pressed on, determined to catch the elusive creature before it slipped away into the wilderness.
As the hunting party trudged through the dense forest, the dogs' keen sense of smell led the way, their noses twitching with excitement as they eagerly followed the scent of the elusive elk. Aenar rode on his trusty pony, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees for any sign of movement. His grip tightened on the reins as the snow crunched beneath the hooves of each pony, the sound echoing through the silent forest. A gentle, cold wind picked up, causing snowflakes to dance in the air, swirling around the hunters' faces and settling on their fur-lined hoods. The branches of the trees rustled and swayed, brushing against each other with a soft whispering sound. Despite the biting cold, the hunting party pressed on, their determination fueling them forward in their pursuit of the majestic elk.
As Aenar stood in the midst of the snowy forest, he gazed upon the breathtaking sight of a rabbit with a coat as pure as driven snow scampering away from him in a frantic manner. However, just as the little creature tried to make its escape, an arrow whistled past Aenar's ear with a deadly aim and struck the rabbit right in its vulnerable stomach. Despite its valiant effort to climb up the tree to safety, the poor animal was unable to do so and eventually succumbed to its wound, its life force slowly draining away as blood trickled down the bark of the tree, tainting the pristine snow beneath into a deep shade of crimson.
With the sound of the arrow piercing through the air, Elric's heart raced with anticipation as he watched it hit the rabbit's stomach with deadly accuracy. As the small animal stopped moving, Elric's grin widened with satisfaction as he approached his prey. Whistling victoriously, he reached out and gently grabbed the lifeless body, feeling the warmth slowly dissipate from its fur. After pulling out the arrow with ease, he skillfully placed the rabbit inside his bag, where he had already stored three other rabbits that he had caught earlier in the day.
As Daemon and his son ventured into the forest for their annual hunt, he observed his son closely, paying particular attention to his reactions. It struck him as odd that his son didn't flinch at the sight of the rabbit's death, but he was proud of the boy for his bravery and skill in the hunt. Despite his pride, Daemon couldn't help but wonder why his son had barely said a word since they set out that morning. He had expected his son to talk incessantly as he usually did, but this time he was uncharacteristically quiet. Daemon wondered if something was bothering his son and if there was anything he could do to help. Perhaps his son was simply lost in thought, or maybe something more significant was weighing on his mind.
Bennard, with an inquisitive expression on his face, halted his horse and drew closer to Aenar's pony. As he drew near, he noticed that Aenar was lost in deep thought, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Suddenly, Bennard let out a sharp question, "Nephew, what is going through your head?". Aenar, startled by his uncle's sudden interruption, snapped back to reality and turned to face him. His pony, sensing his owner's command, trotted forward. Bennard's words hung in the air, lingering like a mist.
As Aenar was about to respond to his uncle's inquiry, the group's attention was swiftly diverted by the piercing howl of a direwolf echoing through the crisp forest air. The sudden and eerie sound sent a wave of tension rippling through their bodies, causing their muscles to tighten and their senses to heighten. Daemon quickly sprang into action, instinctively placing a reassuring hand on Aenar's shoulder while simultaneously urging his horse forward with a determined expression etched on his face. As he scanned the surrounding brush for any signs of danger, his grip on the pommel of his sword tightened, ready to defend his kin at a moment's notice. Despite the stillness of the woods, the group remained on high alert, acutely aware that the howl of a direwolf often signaled impending danger.
As they rode deeper into the forest, the crunching of snow beneath the horses' hooves was the only sound that filled the air. The cold wind whipped at their faces, causing them to pull their fur cloaks tighter around their bodies.
Suddenly, the haunting howls of the Direwolves echoed through the trees once again, sending shivers down everyone's spines. Lord Benjen Stark spoke up with a hint of excitement in his voice, "Direwolves, this might be a treat, my Prince. We haven't seen those in a long time." His hand absentmindedly went through his beard as he gazed out into the snowy landscape, searching for any signs of movement.
As they continued their journey towards the howling, the snowflakes fell around them, creating a mystical ambiance. The forest grew thicker, and the trees towered over them like giants, casting eerie shadows across the ground. The sound of the Direwolves grew louder, and soon the group could make out their silhouettes in the distance.
"Do you hunt them, my lord?" he inquired, his voice betraying a hint of excitement that he couldn't quite conceal. He had seen countless drawings of these majestic creatures, with their shaggy fur and piercing eyes, but he had never had the fortune of encountering one in person. His curiosity was further piqued by the fact that the largest Direwolf in existence was named Hūra and was ridden by Brandon Stark, 'The Builder.'
As the prince's mind wandered, he recalled reading about the largest direwolf in existence - Hūra. According to legend, Hūra had been a remarkable creature with white fur so pure that it blended seamlessly with the snow. Some even claimed that when he roamed through a snow field, he became invisible to the naked eye. The prince couldn't help but imagine the sight of such a magnificent creature. Furthermore, Hūra was known for his piercing purple eyes that shone like amethysts in the sun. It was said that he stood at a staggering four meters tall, making him one of the biggest direwolves to have ever walked the earth. Despite his size, Hūra was known for his agility and speed, which was impressive even for a creature of his size. The prince's heart raced with the thought of witnessing such a majestic animal in action.
"Never," Lord Benjen said with a final voice, looking at Prince Baelon, looking slightly insulted by Prince Baelon's questions. "The Old Gods punish a Stark who kills a Direwolf. Bad luck will follow their family," Lord Benjen spoke with a deep and firm voice; Lord Rickon and Lord Bennard nodded in agreement with what Lord Benjen said.
"Do you want to see a Direwolf, Prince Baelon?" Lord Rickon asked, turning to look at the Prince, who kept a stoic face, but his eyes brightened up at the thought of seeing a Direwolf with his eyes.
"Lead the way, Lord Stark," Prince Baelon said stoically, his voice cutting through the silence of the dense forest as he spurred his horse forward. The other riders followed suit, simultaneously kicking their horses with their stirrups, causing a flurry of snow to fly everywhere as they galloped through the treacherous terrain. The horses snorted and neighed, their breaths visible in the frigid air as they navigated through the thicket of trees, a sense of urgency driving them forward. As they rode deeper into the dense forest, the eerie silence was broken by the sound of twigs snapping beneath their horses' hooves and the rustling of leaves as they brushed past them. Aenar could feel the weight of his black dragon, Cannibal, perched at the back of his mind, almost as if the dragon was guarding him from any potential danger lurking in the shadows. As they continued their journey, the forest seemed to grow thicker, the trees reaching up toward the sky like skeletal fingers.
As they rode deeper into the dense forest, their breaths billowed out in misty clouds as the chilly air bit at their noses and cheeks. After what seemed like hours of riding, they finally stumbled upon a wide river that flowed through the heart of the woodland. Despite the frigid temperatures, the river's surface remained unfrozen, and its crystal-clear waters glistened in the waning sunlight. As they stood in awe at the sight before them, they noticed a massive clearing beyond the river, and in the center of that clearing, a pack of fierce direwolves had descended upon the carcass of a majestic Great Elk. The sound of bones crunching and the sight of blood-stained fur filled the air.
Everyone tensed when they saw the direwolves; The three largest direwolves stepped forward, their sharp teeth bared as they glared menacingly at the many riders surrounding them. In the chaos, Aenar frantically scanned the area, searching for his loyal friend Ghost among the sea of faces. Despite his efforts, he could not spot his beloved companion anywhere; his heart sank as he realized that Ghost was not in the immediate vicinity. Aenar's mind raced as he wondered where Ghost could be and if he was safe from harm.
"It seems they found your Elk, your grace," Lord Benjen japed, causing a ripple of laughter to spread among the group of men. However, Prince Baelon's attention was drawn to the magnificent creatures before him - the Direwolves. Their imposing size and fierce demeanor were enough to make any man think twice before approaching them. As much as he was mesmerized by their wild beauty, the Prince knew all too well the danger they posed. He had heard stories of Direwolves attacking and tearing apart their prey with ease, and he knew better than to underestimate their strength and ferocity.
The sound of ripping flesh echoed through the crisp winter air as the wolves made quick work of their meal, their movements swift and coordinated. Aenar's heart raced as he watched in awe, transfixed by the primal display of nature before him. The pack had finished their feast, and with the Elk's lifeless body in tow, they began to run, leaving behind a trail of blood in their wake. Aenar knew better than to follow them.
Alysanne Targaryen
Alysanne could tell her brother and husband weren't feeling the best. While most others might not be able to see through his facade of health, she could. She could always tell when something was wrong. The way he was participating less in conversation and the ever so slightly slumped shoulders. He was a shade paler, and his voice had a barely audible roughness to it, but it was there.
Now for anyone else, it might just be because they are tired, which, if she was honest with herself, he probably was, but she could just tell that there was more to it. Maybe it was because they were close, or maybe because he acts differently, if it's simply because he's overworked and tired.
Alysanne had been watching him closely during the feast last night, and she could tell he was feeling worse than earlier. Now the signs he was ill were more obvious, and additionally, he would clutch his stomach and flinch.
It made her worry that something was seriously wrong, and she wanted him in bed to rest as soon as possible. But doting and fussing over him in front of everyone wouldn't be the best course of action, so she waited until it was over to approach him and ask if he was alright.
When the feast was over, and people started shuffling out, Jaehaerys remained seated in his chair, eyes closed and breathing unsteady.
"My love?" Alysanne put her hand on her husband's shoulder as the last people left the room, minus the kingsguards that protected the king and queen at all times; she felt concern pulse through her when she could feel the heat coming from her Jaehaerys even through the clothes he was wearing. He opened his purple eyes, and for the first time that day, Alysanne got to see her husband's glassy eyes.
"Hmm?" He smiled at her, but she could see it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Are you feeling ill?" He seemed to turn paler at the word 'ill' and grimaced for a second before shaking his head slowly. "No, of course not." Alysanne gave him a pointed look and stared at him, telling him non-verbally that she knew he was lying.
Jaehaerys sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I'm a little nauseous, but it's nothing to worry about." She shook her head. "I disagree." He looked up at her with tired eyes.
"You are pale and warm. That is already enough reason for me to worry." He didn't answer and just closed his eyes while he took deep breaths; it wasn't before he brought a hand over his mouth that Alysanne understood.
Alysanne held onto him a little tighter. "Are you going to be sick?" The worry in her voice was clear, but she hoped she didn't sound like she was fussing, but she was more concerned with Jaehaerys than embarrassing him for having a doting wife.
For a few seconds, he stayed completely still until he slowly put down his hand and muttered a small and quiet 'No.' Alysanne felt concerned and pity for him and helped him up and wrapped her arms around his as she led him to their bedroom.
After he was undressed and in bed, she kissed his forehead lovingly. He tried to turn away, claiming he didn't want her to get ill as well.
"Just worry about getting some sleep, Jae, and don't worry about me. I'll be fine." He smiled before closing his eyes and sleeping with his sister and wife watching over him.
The following day after an exhausting night of taking care of her sick husband, Jae woke up to find a significant improvement in his health. She felt relieved and grateful, and as they watched the hunting party leaving from the closed window of their bedchamber, they couldn't help but feel a sense of tranquility settling in. Once they left, Jae sat down and decided to do something she hadn't expected.
As Jae spoke with a raspy voice, his old age became quite visible in his face and voice, and he posed an intriguing question to Aly, "Have you ever seen the God's Wood?"
As Alysanne approached him, she noticed a look of concern on his face and decided to inquire about it. "No, why are you asking?" she asked in a gentle tone as she walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder to show her support. She couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as she touched his forehead once again and realized that he wasn't warm anymore. It seemed the sickness had passed without much trouble, which was a relief for both of them.
Jae's lips curled into a gentle smile, revealing a row of pearly white teeth as he gazed into the depths of his wife's eyes, his purple irises shimmering like two precious purple jewels. "Last night during the feast, Lord Stark couldn't stop talking about God's Wood. He said it's the most beautiful place in Winterfell, there you hear only the song of nature around you. He said jokingly that before we left. I should see it at least once. Do you want to accompany me?" Jae asked; despite his old age, he still looked at his wife with love, and Alyanne put on a warm smile.
"Of course, brother." She accepted, quickly finding a warm blanket for them to sit on once they found a good spot.
With a graceful stride, the King and Queen entered God's Wood of Winterfell. The crisp air of the North welcomed them as they took in the majesty of their surroundings. The towering trees, adorned with crimson leaves, created a serene atmosphere. As they walked deeper into the woods, Alysanne couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of the Weirwood Tree. It was a sight to behold, and suddenly she understood why Lyanna always spoke so highly of it. A peaceful quietness surrounded the King and Queen, and they listened intently as the wind whispered through the leaves.
Alysanne finally understood why her daughter-in-law adored this place so much. The Weirwood tree towered over the other trees, its trunk thick and gnarled with age. Its white bark, contrasting with the dark bark of the surrounding trees, made it feel almost otherworldly. As they approached the tree, Alysanne couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine. The Face carved into the trunk was eerie, its features sharp and defined, as if it were alive. Alysanne couldn't help but feel as though the Face was watching them, listening to their every word. Despite the unsettling feeling, Alysanne couldn't deny the magnificence of the Weirwood tree, and she, too, felt a sense of awe and reverence in its presence.
Nestled within the heart of the ancient Godswood, surrounded by towering trees that whispered secrets to the wind, were several natural hot springs whose warmth never faded, even on the most frigid of Winter nights in Winterfell. The locals whispered tales that the castle's walls themselves were infused with the cozy heat of these underground geothermal springs, creating a fortification that radiated warmth and comfort throughout the long, harsh winters. It was said that those who lingered in Godswood's hot springs could feel the ancient magic of the land seep into their bones, soothing their worries and melting away their fears until they were left with nothing but a sense of peace and tranquility.
Jae sat down and muttered, "Lord Stark wasn't exaggerating." He let out a weary sigh and gently placed the blanket on the snowy ground, covering the snow as much as possible. Alysanne nestled herself closer to Jae, and he wrapped his arms around her, trying to keep them both warm.
As they sat down on the blanket, they heard the sound of a bird singing in the tree above them. They looked up to see a small bird perched on a branch, its beak catching a small fly before flying away, perhaps to feed its little ones. Jae and Alysanne sat in silence, listening to the bird's sweet melody and feeling the warmth of each other's bodies. Despite the harshness of their surroundings, they found comfort in each other's company.
As Alysanne sat there, her chest heaving with the weight of the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her, it felt as though someone had reached into her chest and twisted her heart painfully. She couldn't help but think of Saera, her daughter, and the memories flooded her mind like a torrential downpour.
Closing her eyes, she could almost see Saera standing before her, her bright smile and infectious laughter filling the air around them. But just as quickly as the memories came, so did the pain, a sharp pang that spread through her body like wildfire. How many times had she wished she could go back to that fateful moment when everything changed and do things differently? But the past was set in stone, unchangeable, and all she could do was hold onto the memories and try to move forward.
Alysanne was so happy to have Gael with her; her only daughter left, but tomorrow she would be married and live in the North.
She couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and sadness simultaneously. Her heart swelled with pride as she watched her little girl grow into a beautiful woman, ready to start a new life with her husband in the North.
However, at the same time, she felt a pang of emptiness in her chest, realizing that her daughter would no longer be by her side every day. Alysanne had always been fiercely protective of her children, and Gael was no exception. She cherished every moment they spent together, and the thought of Gael leaving her side made her feel as though a piece of her heart was being ripped out.
Trying to hold back tears, Alysanne thought back to all the times she had lost children before, either to illness or in battle. Even the faces of those she never had the chance to meet flashed before her mind's eye, those she never had the chance to love. Despite her sadness, Alysanne knew that Gael was ready to start a new chapter in her life, and she was happy for her daughter. She knew that Gael was marrying a good man who would take care of her, and that gave her peace of mind.
Alysanne felt tears rolling down her face; how much she wished to see them again, all of them. She always believed that a parent should never outlive their children, yet the cruel hand of fate had dealt her a harsh blow, one that she could not recover from. Nine of her children had perished, leaving her with only four that were still alive. One was in Volantis, another in Citadel, and the other two were still with her, but even they seemed to be slipping away, their lives moving in different directions.
Alysanne wondered how she could bear the weight of such a loss, how she could go on living without the ones she loved so dearly. But she knew that she had to be strong, that she had to carry on, for their sake and hers. Alyanna knew she needed to be stronger for her children still left in the world and for her great-grandchildren.
Her mind went to Laena, Laenor, Rhaenyra, and Aenar. She knew Laenor would grow to be a handsome young man, just like his father - a skilled sailor with eyes that sparkled like the ocean. Alysanne imagined him standing tall on the deck of a ship, his hair blowing in the wind as he navigated the seas.
Laena reminded her so much of her own daughter, Daenerys - adventurous yet beautiful, with a spirit that could not be tamed. Alysanne knew that Laena would grow into a woman of great beauty and strength, just like her mother. And Aly couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as she thought of how Daenerys had been taken from them too soon - how she, too, would have grown up to be a dragon rider, just like her granddaughter Laena.
Rhaenyra was a little rebellious, perhaps, but Aly knew she would have her parents and Aenar with her; Aly could already see the signs of Rhaenyra's future beauty - not just any beauty, but the kind that would be remembered by the people of Westeros for generations to come. Indeed, even a century later, tales of Rhaenyra's stunning features would be recounted with admiration and awe.
Alysanne couldn't help but repeat Aenar's name in her mind. The more she thought about him, the more she realized how much he reminded her of her own son, Aemon - smart, adventurous, and handsome, all the best qualities. In fact, sometimes, she felt as if her son had been reborn in Aenar. A burst of happiness filled her heart at the mere thought of her great-grandson, and ever since the night he had sung for her, he had sung for her every other night, not wanting her to be alone. The sound of his voice was like music to her ears, and it brought her great joy. Alysanne knew that more than once, she had called him Aemon, but Aenar didn't seem to mind. He was patient and kind, just like her son had been. She couldn't stop showering her great-grandson in kisses, and the way he laughed was sweet and innocent, reminding her of the days when Aemon was a little boy, running around the garden, chasing after butterflies. Alysanne knew that Aenar was special, and she was grateful to have him in her life.
At one point, Aenar told her she could call him whenever she wanted, but Alysanne didn't want that; she knew Aenar wasn't Aemon.
Alysanne still loved Aenar, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for the qualities he had inherited from his mother, traits that made him a kind and generous soul. Even though Aenar was the son of Daemon, Alysanne could sense that he had a good heart, one that was filled with love and compassion, just like his uncle Aemon.
As she slowly opened her eyes, she was greeted with a mesmerizing sight of snowflakes gently fluttering down from the sky, each unique in its own delicate way, before eventually settling on the already snow-clad ground below. The tranquil scene that surrounded her was nothing short of magical, and as she looked up at her husband, she noticed that he, too, had closed his eyes to take in the serene ambiance. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, and with her ear pressed against his chest, she could hear the comforting sound of his heartbeat, syncopated with the rhythm of the softly falling snowflakes.
"Jae," Alysanne called him softly, nudging his shoulder slightly.
"Yes, my love," Jae answered right away, opening his eyes to look at his wife, who was still resting her head on his shoulder.
Alysanne's heart pounded as she mustered up the courage to ask her husband the question that had been burning her mind for weeks. "Why are you avoiding, Aenar?" she abruptly questioned, her voice filled with concern. Her husband's eyes darted away, unable to meet her gaze. It was as if he had been caught off guard, and his mind was racing to come up with an answer. Alysanne waited, her eyes fixed on her husband's face, hoping for some kind of response. For what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing but silence. She didn't know if he couldn't find the right words or if he didn't want to answer, but after a minute of awkward silence, Jae let out a deep sigh. His shoulders slumped, and he finally spoke.
"I-I will, as soon as I can," he reluctantly answered, but from his tone, Aly didn't believe him, and neither did he believe his own words.
As Alysanne pulled herself away from her husband's shoulder, her eyes met his in a direct and piercing gaze. Her tone was one of disappointment, mixed with a hint of anger, as she spoke the words that had been weighing heavily on her mind for some time. "You have had conversations with Laenor, Laena, and Rhaenyra but not with Aenar," she said, her voice firm and resolute. "It has been four long years since he was born, and yet you have not taken the time to speak with your own great-grandchild." Alysanne's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the unspoken expectations she had for her husband.
She couldn't understand why Jae would refuse to talk with Aenar; he was a sweet boy, innocent and smart; if the whole reason was that he was Daemon's son, that was the most foolish reason.
Jae stood still for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he took in a deep breath of the cool, crisp air. As he exhaled, a realization washed over his face, and his eyes slowly drifted down to his old, wrinkled hands. He stared at them for a moment, almost as if seeing them for the first time, before muttering to himself in disbelief. "Four years! Has it really been that long?" His voice was filled with a mixture of emotions - surprise, shock, and perhaps even a hint of sadness.
"It has; Aenar might try to hide it, but I know he's wounded that you refuse to talk to him," Alysanne said in a soft tone. Her words were followed by a gentle touch as she reached out and took hold of her husband's hands, causing him to look up at her with a mixture of surprise and gratitude.
As Alysanne spoke to Jaehaerys, there was a hint of melancholy in her voice. She knew that their time on this earth was limited, and she wanted to make sure that they made the most of it. Jaehaerys tried to interrupt her, to tell her not to talk like that, but Alysanne was determined to say her piece.
"Jaehaerys, my love," she said, looking deeply into his eyes, "we don't have that long left in this life. You know it to be true, and so do I. We have lived a long and happy life together, but we both know our time is running out." Alysanne paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. "When the day comes, I don't want you to look back and berate yourself for not spending more time with Aenar. He is such a wonderful child, and he deserves to have his great-grandfather in his life. We need to make the most of the time we have left and cherish every moment we spend with our family." As she finished speaking, Alysanne leaned in and planted a tender kiss on her husband's lips.
Jaehaerys sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, his mind working overtime as he mulled over every word his beloved wife had spoken to him. Despite his initial resistance, he knew deep down that everything she had said was true. He had purposefully avoided spending time with his great-grandson, convincing himself that the boy would turn out like Daemon or some other foolish excuse he had concocted in his mind. But now, as he reflected on his wife's words, he couldn't help but feel a sense of regret and remorse for the missed opportunities.
But now, looking at his wife, he knew she was right; it had been four years, and he realized that not once did he ever have an actual conversation with him besides basic greetings. Jaehaerys knew he needed to spend the time left to fix the mistakes he could still fix; looking back at his sister-wife, he spread out his arms and hugged his dear wife. "I would be lost without you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Alysanne giggled at his words, shaking her head against his shoulder, but he could feel the warmth of her love radiating through him.
Alysanne's voice was barely above a whisper as she uttered the words, "As I would be without you," into her husband's ear, tears falling down her face like a stream of emotions. She held onto him tightly, as if she were afraid that he would disappear from her grasp if she let go.
With a heart full of love and a deep sense of commitment, Jaehaerys looked into Alysanne's eyes and made a solemn promise, "I promise you, my love, that I will talk with Aenar and make an effort to get to know him for the remaining years of our lives." The thought of losing Alysanne, his partner in life, was unbearable for Jaehaerys, and he prayed to every god he knew for a peaceful and harmonious end to their journey together, hoping that they would both leave this world simultaneously and always remain together, even beyond the veil of death. The mere thought of living without Alysanne was enough to make Jaehaerys shudder, and he knew that he never wanted to imagine a life without her.
Later
After catching more rabbits and boars, the hunting party returned to Winterfell; Lord Stark kept saying how they hadn't caught this much for a very long time.
Elric had helped to track down the last boar they caught before killing it with a single arrow through the eye from a hundred meters away.
As the boar charged towards them, Elric stood his ground, his steady hands clutching his bow, ready to take the perfect shot. With a single arrow, he had expertly aimed and hit the boar right through its eye, bringing it down instantly. The group erupted into a round of applause, their faces beaming with admiration and respect for the young boy who had shown such remarkable skill and precision.
Tomorrow
As the sun rose the following day, the young trio of Aenar, Laena, and Rhaenyra, their hearts pounding with excitement, snuck out of the castle yet again. This time, they had a singular goal in mind - to catch a glimpse of Cannibal and perhaps the other dragons that roamed the skies. As they tiptoed through the corridors, they could hear the soft footsteps of Ser Ryam and Ser Harrold, the vigilant Kingsguard knights who had been tasked with keeping a watchful eye on the young royals. Despite the fact that they were following around three children, the old knights couldn't help but grin in amusement every time the mischievous youngsters tried to evade their watchful gaze. For Prince Aenar and Princess Rhaenyra, though, the thrill of the forbidden was too much to resist, and they were determined to sneak outside and do something they shouldn't - consequences be damned.
The guards had opened the gates when Prince Aenar ordered them to without asking questions.
They were riding on horseback, journeying through a vast expanse of an open field surrounded by a thick blanket of snow. The view was breathtaking, and as they rode, they could see the magnificent Dragons in the distance, enjoying their rest in the winter sun. Among the Dragons, Vhaegar and Cannibal were the most prominent, their gigantic figures standing out even from afar. Suddenly, the moment's tranquility was shattered by the eerie howl of direwolves, echoing through the air, shaking the riders to their core. Aenar could feel the vibrations of heavy footsteps approaching, growing louder and louder with each passing moment.
Aenar heard the sharp sound of swords being drawn, and before they knew it, a large pack of Direwolves emerged from the shadows, their eyes glinting menacingly in the morning light. Rhaenyra's screams pierced the air as she clung desperately to Aenar's arm, tears streaming down her face in terror. Meanwhile, Laena fumbled for her dagger, her body trembling uncontrollably with fear. Her face had gone deathly pale, and she looked as though she might faint at any moment. Despite his young age, Aenar knew that he had to protect his cousins, and he quickly stepped forward to shield them from the snarling beasts.
Aenar knew he needed to call for Cannibal, their bond wasn't that strong yet, but he believed he could make him walk up to them and scare the direwolves away.
"Stand behind, your grace," Ser Ryam commanded with unwavering confidence, positioning himself in front of Aenar with his sword held tightly in both hands. His armor, adorned in a striking yellow hue, shimmered brightly against the fiery sun, starkly contrasting the dark fur of the nine direwolves that had formed a cautious circle around them. Despite their menacing presence, the wolves remained eerily still, their piercing eyes locked onto the pair as if waiting for a signal to attack. Ser Ryam's heart pounded with anticipation, but he remained steadfast, keeping a watchful eye on each wolf, ready to defend his prince at a moment's notice.
As the young Prince Aenar strode forward with a determined gait, his heart pounded with excitement and anticipation. The soft patter of his footsteps echoed off the land as he passed his esteemed Kingsguard.
Aenar's purple eyes, deep and piercing, scanned the area until they landed on the largest direwolf of the pack, whose white fur glistened in the sun like freshly fallen snow. The beast was easily as large as a horse, its muscles rippling under its fur as it watched the man approaching it. Aenar's heart raced as his eyes met the wolf's red orbs, and a flood of memories from years past washed over him. Despite the many years that had passed, he recognized the wolf's eyes right away and knew that fate had brought him here for a reason.
Aenar felt his eyes burning with tears, his heart beating faster with happiness, a broad smile forming as he came face to face with his best friend.
"G-Ghost!"
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