"Are we ready?" Ser Hugh asked, in that rather gruff manner of his.
She felt an annoying blush come to her cheeks at this and before
she could say anything Lady Arryn answered in the affirmative and
she kept her mouth shut, for the whole thing was rather strained. A
few moons ago with the news of the death of the Queen Lady Arryn
had become much more withdrawn and, if not hostile, at the very
least cold.
She did not fully understand exactly why this would be, but she had
been informed that as winter was upon the realm and that the
weather was getting steadily worse that the Eyrie was being
abandoned. The court of the Falcon was moving to the Gates of the
Moon as it was wont to do, but apparently, she was to return to Kings
Landing forthwith. And via dragon also, her maids and servants were
to return by way of the Bloody Gate and overland.
A few days ago, Ser Hugh had arrived on Vermithor, and poor
weather had delayed them departing from the Eyrie.
Ser Hugh had arrived with a set of 'flying kit' as he described it for
her to wear, which had caused consternation when it was revealed, it
was a smaller version of the bulky clothes he wore atop Vermithor.
Her outfit, or her 'flying kit' was trimmed in scarlet though, and
underneath the bulky coat and pants was a very comfortable woolen
ensemble of what looked like doublet and trousers, with the trousers
reaching up above her tummy, with straps over her shoulders to hold
them up. Underneath this was another similar layer but made of silk,
a triple set of gloves was also part of the outfit, silk, wool and
sheepskin. Thick woolen socks with large boots, deeply lined with
sheepskin protected her feet, atop her head she had to wear a sort
of a tight-fitting helmet, again of sheepskin.
Like Ser Hugh she also had a silk scarf wrapped around her neck,
his was black but hers was scarlet, and she moved like a stuffed
animal in all this get up, clumsy and beginning to sweat despite the
cold, crisp air of the Eyrie.
Vermithor hulked in the courtyard of the Eyrie, a large and rather
complicated looking saddle strapped to the base of his neck. Against
the rear of the saddle were rolled up a good portion of her
belongings, snuggly rolled tight within a large oilskin that was
strapped and tied to the saddle.
The journey was set to take them three days on dragon back as
opposed to the several weeks it would otherwise take using the
roads, stopping at Saltpans and Sow's Horn before making Kings
Landing. In several separate saddle bags were some changes of
underclothes, sleeping clothing and two woolen winter dresses, in
case they were needed. Hugh had not stopped long at either keep
on the way up, only overnight, but her presence might prompt a
feast, and she would have to be at least minimally prepared in that
case.
A round of formal goodbyes were said and with that Ser Hugh helped
her up into the saddle, she would be sitting behind Ser Hugh and the
saddle contraption had a back for her to lean against and after he
had strapped her in, he had draped and wrapped an oilskin around
her to provide her with some protection from the rain that Hugh had
said was likely on their flight.
After this Ser Hugh jumped back down and walked around Vermithor
and underneath the great dragon, she had seen him do this before
when he had taken Vermithor up for his daily flights on the dragon.
He would often raise an arm and run his outstretched arm over
Vermithor's scales and belly, apparently this was something of a
ritual that Ser Hugh indulged in before he mounted his dragon.
Once finished Ser Hug mounted up and strapped himself in just
ahead of her, her legs ran down on either side of where he sat in his
saddle and once he was ready Vermithor leaped into the air without
any command from its rider.
She felt her stomach lurch as the dragon took wing, thrilling as it
cleared the walls of the Eyrie and the great vista of the surroundings
of the seat of the Arryn's came into view.
Not that she had not seen the view multiple times from the walls and
towers of the Eyrie, but to see it atop a dragon, with the wind
whistling past you and the heat of the great beast warming you, as
its wings beat steadily, well that was something else entirely.
Ser Hugh did not indulge in any fancy flying to salute the Eyrie and
its occupants on their departure, he simply set course for the Gates
of the Moon in the distance.
After a few minutes Rhaena started to get a little annoyed, Ser Hugh
had said absolutely nothing to her, beyond a brief 'are you all right'
shortly after Vermithor had launched himself from the Eyrie, and it
was beginning to grate on her nerves. She was not used to people
ignoring her, not at the very least trying to engage her in
conversation, especially knights….
She knew a little about this Ser Hugh, that he had been a bastard
blacksmith on Dragonstone, that he had tamed Vermithor and that
he was well regarded even in spite of his humble birth. He had
apparently fought well during the uprising in the Eyrie, or so she had
heard some of the Household Knights of the Eyrie saying. But all had
been in either small or large measure disparaging about him and his
birth, and she got the impression that none of them truly liked Ser
Hugh.
She remembered he had been very curt for someone of his station
when talking to Prince Joffrey, she had overheard some of what had
been said between them and she had been horrified that one such
as thus Hugh would ever dare to speak to a Prince in that manner,
never mind that Joffrey was the Crown Prince! She had avoided
Hugh as much as possible while he had been at the Eyrie but had
been forced to be in his presence numerous times, she had set her
face into, if not a scowl, for that was un-princess like, at least a
neutral if slightly hostile stare. And the shamelessness of the man,
speaking to them almost naked while being attended to by an
Acolyte, stitching his wounds closed over his bulkily muscled torso.
He had been knighted after the battle of the Gullet, where the
dragons had destroyed the fleet of the Three Daughters, and not for
some achievement on the battlefield or in a tourney. So was he really
a Knight then wondered Rhaena, and if he was not a knight, what,
what was he then? Should she even be addressing him as 'Ser'?
Pondering this she decided that mayhaps it was better if she did not
engage in conversation with this Hugh, he was likely far too beneath
her station. And with that she ended any thoughts of a conversation,
and instead watched the stunning landscape pass her by.
As they passed over the Gates of the Moon the threatened rain
started, and she huddled deeper into her clothes, as the wind and
Vermithor's flight drove the rain straight into them. At least she could
shelter somewhat behind the bulk of Hugh up ahead of her, and she
was thankful for that small mercy at least.
On and on they flew in silence, the cold slowly seeping into her,
despite the heat of Vermithor below her, the rain making her
miserable, but despite the discomfort she fell into something of a
fitful sleep.
She awoke with dusk settling all around them and the dragon
descending towards the ground, a castle obvious on a hill to her
right, and a town sprawling at its base.
"Saltpans" Hugh said, his voice sounded tired and muffled, "we will
be landing in a minute."
As if he needed to tell her that, was it not obvious that they were
landing? She did not reply as Vermithor turned and flew slowly lower,
but still yet not directly towards the castle, and she thought to voice
her notice of this when Vermithor heeled over sharply and turned
directly towards the castle, hearing Hugh mumble what sounded like
'Call the Ball, Maverick has the Ball' or some such. Vermithor flaring
his great wings and settling down to the earth, to land outside of the
town and before the castle of House Cox.
Which was quite a way away she noted sourly, she was tired and
sore and could not understand why Hugh had not landed Vermithor
closer to the keep.
"Ser Hugh?" she asked, deciding that it would be petty of her to not
use the honorific that had been bestowed upon him, even though
she did not believe that the man was any sort of a knight.
"Your Grace" he replied, as he began to unstrap himself from his
saddle.
"Why did you not land closer to the keep? We are quite the distance
away from it."
"The land around the keep is mostly marsh, there is only a narrow
causeway from the town to the Keep. I landed us as close as I could
on solid ground your Grace."
She was about to retort but was distracted as Ser Hugh began to
unbuckle and unstrap her from her saddle, Vermithor obligingly
lowering his neck until it was resting on the dark ground below them.
Once he had her unstrapped Ser Hugh jumped down and held his
arms up for her, and she was forced to make a little jump into Ser
Hugh's arms, before he set her on the ground.
He promptly ignored her and went off to do another of his ridiculous
rounds of the underside of Vermithor, leaving her standing there,
beginning to shiver despite the layers of clothing she was bundled in.
In the distance she could see torches streaming out of the gates of
the small castle, no doubt riders coming to her and the landed
dragon.
Hugh appeared at her side after he had finished whatever he had
been doing under his dragon and he just stood there, standing
insufferably close to her mind, what did he think he was, her sworn
sword?
Eventually the party from the castle arrived and the usual
pleasantries and greeting exchanged. She was whisked straight to
the castle and given the quarters of the Lord of Saltpans, one Ethon
Cox. The Lord was old and widowed, and his two eldest sons were
away at war, leaving him with just a daughter of about her age and a
son of about ten years.
The keep was small and spartan, but at least a bath had been drawn
for her and a hand maiden assisted her get dressed afterwards, her
things having been delivered to her room from Vermithor's
saddlebags.
Despite being bone tired a small feast had been put on and she of
course had to attend and be seated at the high table as guest of
honour, to the right of Lord Cox. The old lord was pleasant enough in
conversation, not too fawning nor intrusive, the same could not be
said for his daughter who was being none too subtle about asking for
a place as a lady in waiting in her retinue.
Ser Hugh was down on the floor of the hall, sitting with the
Household Knights of House Cox, in this case what looked like
several grey beards who were obviously too old to take to the field.
The dragonrider was dressed in rather plain garb, certainly not
sufficient for his status as a knight, or a dragonrider, and especially
not as someone who was escorting a Princess back to Kings
Landing!
He was tucking into the fare before him and drinking from a large
tankard of what was probably ale, conversing now and then with his
companions at the table. She tried a trick that she had learned in the
Eyrie, keeping her eyes on Hugh until he would look up at her, then
she would immediately shift her gaze elsewhere. But after the first
time she played that trick he ignored all her subsequent attempts to
catch his eye, and she gave up in frustration.
Once the meal was over she made her excuses, announcing that
she was very tired and that she and her 'dragon knight' as she
decided to call Hugh, would be leaving early tomorrow morning, the
weather permitting.
The next morning was drizzling and cold, but Hugh decided that it
was good enough for flying, so that after they broke their fast they
were off again on Vermithor's back, leaving Saltpans behind along
with the frustrated ambitions of a rather plain looking minor Lords
daughter.
They flew much lower this time, below the cloud and were only
troubled by the odd shower of rain, but as the approached Sow's
Horn the rain began to fall in great sheets, drenching her despite the
oilskin and her clothing.
Sow's Horn was an even smaller keep that that of House Cox of the
Saltpans, being nothing more that a glorified tower house and was
home to House Hogg. Thankfully Hugh landed Vermithor almost on
top of the building, she could not bring herself to call it a keep, and
after the usual round of greetings she was once again whisked off to
the rooms of the Lord, where she would spend the night. Again, a
bath and a change of clothes were provided and again a feast was
laid on, the great hall of Sow's Horn was to her mind barely
deserving of such a title, but nevertheless the household and the
Lord's vassals were crammed into it.
Over the noise and the hubbub, she asked about Ser Hugh, for she
did not see him seated in the room.
"Oh, him, he's eating in the servants' quarters, best place for him!"
guffawed the fat and rather disgusting Lord of Sow's Horn, Lord
Markas Hogg.
Rhaena did not know why, but that comment insulted and annoyed
her, but before she could say anymore Lord Hogg was busy toasting
her and her father Prince Daemon, and she let this insult slip from
her mind. Again, she went to bed as early as was polite, and judging
from how drunk Lord Hogg was, it was probably a good thing too.
The morning dawned clearer but more blustery and soon they were
on their way again, following the Kings Road southwards, until by
early evening they were flying over the walls of Kings Landing.
Rhaena had slept most of the way, and instead of landing at the
Dragonpit he had delivered her direct to the Red Keep, Vermithor
and Hugh taking off again once she had alighted and her bags and
baggage were removed. She briefly met with her father, who greeted
her and hushed her off to bed, saying that she was to attend court
the next day.
She luxuriated in sleeping in the quarters assigned to her in the Red
Keep, and she slept the sleep of the dead until woken up by maids
the next morning. She was bathed and her hair was done up into a
court style, a dress of what was the latest court fashion according to
one of the maids was draped around her, a grey silk dress, patterned
with blue flowers, the underdress was of a light woolen cloth to
provide sufficient warmth now that winter was settling in. The
underdress was fitted and tight, its sleeves hugged close to her arms
almost to her wrists, the silken over dress had he typical wide
sleeves that had long been a feature of court fashion.
Once prepared she broke her fast, bread, cheese, and smoked
meat, along with a glass of small beer, but for some reason her
tummy was unsettled, and she could eat only very little of this fare.
Arriving at court she took her assigned place and waited for her
father to arrive, he was now the Regent to the King, Aegon the
Second her half brother and it suddenly dawned on her why she had
been brought back to Kings Landing. Her father was going to betroth
her to the boy, that was what he was going to do, and her heart
quailed at the thoughts of this, to be betrothed to a, a child!
And she a flowered maiden, ready for marriage, and she would be
forced to wait how many years to be married? Though she would be
Queen, there was that to consider, but the boy was ten, and she was
ten and four, far too old for him! As her mind ruminated on this her
father entered the Throne room, resplendent in scarlet and black,
and as everyone knelt he mounted the Iron Throne like he was born
to it, seating himself comfortably upon it.
He began speaking, mainly about the war and its progress, then he
moved on to other matters, what sounded to her like mundane
courtly business, and she ignored her father's voice, returning to
ponder her soon to be betrothal, and probably marriage. For she did
not think her father would delay matters given that fact that there
was a war on.
Thankfully her mind was not so occupied that she missed the
sudden change in atmosphere, and she concentrated on the Throne
room once again.
Her father was reading out something from a scroll and, and was
that Hugh kneeling at the foot of the Iron Throne? It was, and did she
just hear that correct? She let her jaw fall in shock, her father, her
father had just acknowledged Hugh as one of his bastards, and not
only that, he, he had just legitimized Hugh as a Targaryen!
Her fathers voice boomed out calling for her to approach the Iron
Throne, which she did as if in a dream, a terrible fear gripping her
insides, she came to a stop beside Hugh, who was at least finely
dressed a part of her mind observed.
"I have good news daughter mine, regarding your betrothal and
marriage, I have decided on a suitable husband for your hand. And
who better for your hand than my son, Prince Hugh Targaryen!"