Rhaenyra and William spent the entire night engrossed in conversation, drinking, and joking, with Criston silently observing. For that night, Rhaenyra managed to forget about the burdens of the Throne and Court affairs, secretly grateful to have found an ally in William Baratheon. Not only was he handsome, but he also provided great company.
As the sun began to rise, Rhaenyra expressed her desire to find the highest vantage point to admire the land, despite William and Ser Criston urging her to return to camp. Ignoring their pleas, she soon discovered the perfect spot to take in the countryside, though the smoke from the King's camp marred the view.
In this peaceful moment, far from her father and the lustful Lords vying for her Valyrian bloodline and birthright, Rhaenyra relished the freedom and fresh air. She knew it would be a long while before she could taste such liberation again.
Suddenly, a loud footstep caught her attention, and her eyes widened in wonder at the magnificent creature before her—a White Hart, the King of the King's Wood, once a symbol of royalty in Westeros before the dragons arrived. Rhaenyra couldn't believe her eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over her heart.
She watched as William unsheathed his sword, with Criston standing guard, ready for action. Rhaenyra whispered, trying not to startle the deer, "No."
But William turned to her with cold green eyes, slightly unsettling her. "I know it's not my place to say this, but by killing the White Hart, you would send a powerful message to the realm. It would demonstrate that the Gods favor you as the one true heir to the Iron Throne. The pious lords would be convinced to rally to your side, and even the Faith would support you."
"I agree with Lord William, Princess," Ser Criston finally chimed in after his silence throughout the night. "This is a golden opportunity for you."
In an instant, Rhaenyra's tranquility was replaced by anxiety. She hadn't anticipated her knight and the person she felt safe with to reach a different decision than hers. Now, she felt lost and undecided as the White Hart began to flee.
"Princess," William called out.
The deer would escape if she didn't act. Rhaenyra seemed lost in another world, a memory flashing through her mind—Otto Hightower's cocky grin and his arrogant words uttered in her presence: "A regal portent for Prince Aegon's name day."
Rhaenyra had often dreamed of the day when she would make Lord Hand swallow his pride and acknowledge her as Queen. Today was that day.
"Kill it," she commanded, her voice barely audible as the stag was already making its escape.
William, pleased to finally hear those words, rolled his eyes and rushed toward the beast with remarkable speed. It was truly astonishing to Rhaenyra how swiftly the Baratheon caught up with the White Hart before she could even blink.
With a swift slash, he severed one of its legs, immobilizing the creature. The screams of the beast reverberated through Rhaenyra's skull, finally snapping her out of her trance. She and Criston Cole hurried to the scene.
The White Hart writhed on the ground, attempting to rise despite its missing leg, aiming its antlers at William. But with a quick leap backward, William evaded the attack, sliding on the ground to stabilize himself at a safe distance.
Criston Cole seized the opportunity and slashed the animal's neck muscles, weakening its antler movements. However, one of the stag's antlers grazed his armor, forcing him to step back, creating an opening for William to slash the other side of the neck.
The White Hart cried out in agony as its neck could no longer support its heavy head, collapsing in the dirt, still breathing heavily.
Breathing heavily himself, William glanced at Criston, who had attempted to claim his kill. And sent him a glare.
Rhaenyra arrived as her knight and William firmly grasped the antlers to protect her from harm. "Princess," William called out. "Take my sword and stab its heart."
The heir to the throne picked up William's weapon and gazed sadly at the dying creature. Arthur caught a glimpse of her expression.
"The path to power is drenched in blood, my lady," he said, his voice cold unlike the warmth of the previous night. "You can either turn away from it or plunge deep into it. There is no middle ground."
Rhaenyra's strength returned upon hearing his words, her face now displaying cold determination. She walked toward the flank of the beast, raising William's sword.
"A bit more to the left, Princess," William guided her.
She followed his instructions, seeing him nod approvingly, and then she stabbed the White Hart. A spurt of blood splattered her face as the King of the King's Wood let out one final cry of agony before it ceased to move and breathe. Rhaenyra felt her heart rise to her lips as Arthur and Criston approached her side.
William produced a handkerchief he had prepared and began to clean her face, noticing the few tears shimmering in her purple eyes. "Was it your first kill, Princess?"
She nodded weakly, and Ser Criston and William exchanged a knowing look.
"It seems you need a moment, Princess," William said. "Ser Criston and I will find a way to bring the White Hart back to camp while you compose yourself."
Once again, she barely nodded, her attention solely focused on the lifeless body of the King of the King's Wood.
Unaware of William and her knights walking away, his words resonated within her mind. "The path to power is drenched in blood, my lady. You can either turn away from it or plunge deep into it. There is no middle ground."
"By killing the White Hart, you would send a powerful message across the realm."
This man was nothing but perplexing to Rhaenyra. He was both cold and warm, his words sometimes direct, and at other times laden with deeper meaning. He exuded an air of mystery while remaining open like a book that has been read a dozen of times.
To be honest, Rhaenyra had never felt drawn to a man before, let alone a Baratheon.