The feast was in full swing, the great hall bustling with music and laughter. Servants scurried about, filling cups and plates as they navigated the crowded tables. Jace effortlessly mingled, greeting guests and allies with warmth. Meanwhile, Rhaenerys sat isolated in a corner, her sword lying across her lap as she methodically cleaned it. The quiet moments like these often beckoned her thoughts to wander.
Her mind drifted to her family back home - her sisters, her friends. Despite her deep affection for Westerosi culture and her thrilling encounters with Rhaenyra and Daemon, she couldn't shake the longing for her life as Rhea Cole. The familiar comforts of her past lingered, a bittersweet nostalgia.
One particular memory resurfaced - Erling's teasing jabs about sharing a last name with Ser Criston Cole, now notoriously known as "Ser Crispy Chicken" among their circle. Rhaenerys's lips curled into a wry smile, but her reverie was short-lived.
"Princess!" The urgent address snapped Rhaenerys back to reality.
She turned to face the speaker, her gaze locking onto Jace's concerned expression. "Jace, what's amiss?"
"Nothing's amiss, Princess," Jace replied, his voice gentle. "Lord Harwin wishes to introduce you to Harrenhal's nobles. He's eager to forge alliances and strengthen ties."
Rhaenerys's gaze drifted past Jace, scanning the hall. Lord Harwin stood nearby, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.
"Very well," Rhaenerys said, sheathing her sword. "Let's proceed."
As they walked, Jace leaned in. "Be cautious, Rhaenerys. Harrenhal's nobles may have hidden agendas."
Rhaenerys nodded, her expression neutral.
Upon arriving at Lord Harwin's side, he gestured to a nearby group. "Shall we?"
The introductions began, a blur of names and titles:
- Lady Elara Vyrwel, mistress of the eastern towers
- Ser Marston Waters, castellan of the western walls
- Maester Lyra Rosby, keeper of Harrenhal's archives
- Ser Gregor Swygert, master-at-arms
Rhaenerys exchanged polite words, her mind racing with potential alliances and motivations.
As Rhaenerys greeted Ser Gregor Swygert, master-at-arms, her eyes scanned the group, then halted on a familiar face. Ryker, her former steward and confidant, stood beside Ser Gregor, his piercing blue gaze locking onto hers.
Rhaenerys' breath caught, her composure wavering for an instant. She hadn't expected to see Ryker here, especially not as Ser Gregor's squire.
"Ryker?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ryker's expression remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of emotion. "Princess Rhaenerys," he said, his voice low and measured.
Ser Gregor's gaze shifted between them, a hint of curiosity on his face. "You know each other, I see."
Rhaenerys regained her composure, a mask of calm settling over her features. "Ryker was... my steward, during my time in the fighting pits."
Ryker's eyes held hers, a silent understanding passing between them. The memories of their conversations, the moments they shared, hung in the air like unspoken words.
"I see," Ser Gregor said, his voice neutral. "Well, Ryker has been an invaluable asset to me. His martial skills are impressive."
Rhaenerys' gaze lingered on Ryker, her thoughts racing. What was he doing here? Had he followed her to Harrenhal?
As Rhaenerys exchanged polite words with Ser Gregor, Ryker stood attentively beside him, his eyes occasionally meeting Rhaenerys'. The familiarity between them was palpable.
Just then, a youthful voice cut through the conversation.
"Ah, Ser Gregor, may I introduce myself?"
A tall, agile young man with an eager grin stepped forward. Joren Mallister, Ser Gregor's other squire, bowed deeply.
"Princess Rhaenerys, it's an honor. I've heard tales of your bravery."
Rhaenerys smiled warmly. "The pleasure's mine, Joren."
Joren's gaze flicked to Ryker, a spark of rivalry igniting in his eyes. He seemed determined to outshine Ryker.
"Ryker here has been teaching me the finer points of swordsmanship," Joren said, his tone bordering on condescension. "Though I've quickly surpassed him."
Ryker's expression remained neutral, indifferent to Joren's jibe.
Rhaenerys' eyes darted between the two squires, sensing the tension.
Joren continued, undeterred. "I've heard the princess has a keen eye for skill. Perhaps she'd care to observe a demonstration of my prowess?"
His gaze locked onto Rhaenerys', a flirtatious glint in his eye.
Ryker's jaw clenched, his annoyance subtle but palpable.
Just as Joren began to launch into a boastful tale, Lord Harwin cleared his throat, intervening.
"Ah, Joren, perhaps later. We have more pressing matters to discuss."
Jace, observing from nearby, suppressed a chuckle. The rivalry between Ryker and Joren was already simmering.
"Shall we proceed, Princess?" Lord Harwin asked, gesturing to the gathered nobles.
Rhaenerys nodded, her gaze lingering on Ryker for a moment before turning to follow Lord Harwin.
A few moments later, Jace leaned in, whispering, "It seems Ryker has some competition."
Rhaenerys' expression remained neutral, but a hint of amusement danced in her eyes.
Baela, standing nearby, chimed in, her voice tinged with amusement. "Who's competing with whom?"
Rhaenerys' gaze shifted to Baela, concern etched on her face. "Baela, perhaps you should sit. You're still recovering."
Baela's smile faltered for an instant before she regained her composure. "I'm fine, Rhae. Just curious."
Jace's eyes lingered on Baela, his expression thoughtful. Then Jace leaned in, whispering to Baela, "Ryker's here. The one Rhaenerys claims is naught but a friend."
Baela raised an eyebrow. Jace continued, "And it seems Joren, another squire, has taken a shine to Rhaenerys."
Rhaenerys rolled her eyes. "Joren's interest has nothing to do with me. He's simply trying to provoke Ryker."
Baela teased, "But Ryker's heart beats for you, don't deny it."
Rhaenerys' cheeks flushed.
Just as Rhaenerys began to respond, Lord Harwin's voice cut through the hall. "A raven's arrived from Her Grace, Queen Rhaenyra. She summons us back to Dragonstone forthwith."
They fell silent.
Jace's expression turned serious. "Seems our clandestine endeavor hasn't gone unnoticed."
Baela's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Sneaking out to thwart Aemond's plans probably wasn't our wisest move. But it was worth the risk."
Lord Harwin's face creased into a warm smile. "Ah, but sometimes boldness is needed. Rhaenerys, I owe you my deepest gratitude. Your bravery and quick thinking saved me from Aemond's clutches."
Rhaenerys' cheeks flushed. "It was nothing, my lord. Jace and Baela helped equally."
Lord Harwin's voice filled with emotion. "Your humility matches your courage, Rhaenerys. Lord Harwin's expression turned reassuring. "Her Grace may simply be concerned, she understands your motivations and I'll vouch for your actions."
Rhaenerys smiled slightly. "Thank you, Lord Harwin."
Lord Harwin nodded. "Now, let's prepare for our return. We don't want to keep Her Grace waiting."
Rhaenerys scanned the room, seeking Ryker's familiar form. Baela's knowing glance guided her, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.
"Training grounds," Baela whispered, her voice barely audible over the murmur of conversation. "Saw him heading there."
Rhaenerys nodded, gratitude in her smile, before slipping out into the cool evening air.
The torches cast flickering shadows on the walls as she made her way to the training grounds. The sound of clashing steel echoed through the yard, accompanied by the murmur of men's voices and the scent of sweat.
She found Ryker honing his blade, focus etched on his face. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his movements were fluid, almost dance-like. As he struck and parried, his muscles rippled beneath his skin, drawing Rhaenerys' gaze.
Their eyes met, and without words, they drew together.
For a moment, they stood, drinking in each other's presence. The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them.
Ryker's eyes locked on hers, his expression softening.
Then, they shared a tender embrace. Ryker's arms enveloped her, holding her close. Rhaenerys felt a sense of comfort, of belonging, in his arms.
Ryker's voice barely rose above a whisper. "So, you bear the Targaryen blood."
Rhaenerys nodded, her gaze locked on his.
"I had my suspicions. Are your visions and aims bound to your Targaryen legacy?" Ryker asked. She nodded once more. Ryker's tone softened. "Do I have a place in your designs?"
Rhaenerys began, "Ryker-"
Ryker's gaze locked onto Rhaenerys'. "I mean to stand by you," he declared. "I'll train under a Dragonstone knight, to be worthy of your side. My Maester studies will serve you well in battle. You don't face this alone."
He took her hand, his touch sending shivers.
"Though, I may be not of noble birth," Ryker continued, "I vow to do what's needed to stand with you. You're more than Targaryen royalty to me; you're the one I'd protect, support."
Rhaenerys' heart swelled.
Ryker took Rhaenerys' hand, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't bear this burden alone, Rhaenerys. Your visions, your destiny - I'll stand with you."
Rhaenerys' eyes widened, taken aback.
Before she could respond, Baela's voice cut in from behind. "Ryker, join us at Dragonstone. I'll speak to the Queen on your behalf."
Rhaenerys' gaze snapped to Baela, her eyes growing impossibly wider as Ryker accepted the offer with a happy smile. He excitedly excused himself to persuade his master without giving Rhaenerys the time to come up with a response.
Once Ryker departed, Rhaenerys let out a sigh. Baela stepped beside her, nudging her gently with her shoulder.
"Ryker speaks truth, Rhaenerys," Baela said. "The Seven Kingdoms hold darkness enough for all. Even Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon find strength in each other. And Queen Alicent, well... she has Ser Criston Cole - Ser Crispy Chicken, if you will." Baela's lips curled into a sly smile.
Rhaenerys chuckled, recalling the night she'd let the nickname slip. "You still remember that, don't you?"
Baela's grin confirmed it. "A slip of the tongue, and now it's our little secret."
Baela's tone softened. "You don't face this alone, Rhaenerys."
Rhaenerys shifted her gaze. "You seem to manage well enough without... entanglements."
Baela's smile hinted at secrets. "I'm betrothed to Jace. I thought perhaps... you and Jace..."
Rhaenerys clarified, "Jace is my cousin."
Baela nodded. "Your upbringing was different. I understand."
As Rhaenerys pondered the uncertain future, Baela's words lingered: in a world full of shadows, perhaps she didn't have to face them alone.
Rhaenerys' thoughts swirled, her mind weighing the uncertain fate ahead. She'd always been wary of variables, the unseen forces that could upset even the most carefully laid plans.