4 Whims of Fate
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105 AC
Kingswood
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The arrows flew together, cutting through the wind. The hart reacted, albeit too late, with them piercing both of it's hind legs at the calf, immobilizing it and tainting it's white fur with blood.
"Nice shot Daeron!"-Viserys congratulated him, impressed by his ability to shoot two arrows at the same time at that distance and hitting the Stag whiteout alerting it of their presence.
"You honor me, Your Grace. It is only my duty as the King's huntsman to hit a target that close."-Daeron said with not-so-covert humility. He had been awarded the position after winning the archery competition in the King's Tourney the previous year. Though a small post granted on the King's discretion, it gave him a place at court above that of a bastard brought by the whims of the Rouge Prince, and a justification for gifting Daeron with a Dragon Bow without suffering over-resistance from the Lords, though he was still not strong enough to actually use it.
With the Queen late into her pregnancy, the sighting of the White Hart in the Kingswood had been considered a auspicious sign, and so the King ordered a hunt for it in the name of his soon to be born heir. A regal gift for the birth of his firstborn son, he'd declared. All the Lords and Ladies had set off on the hunt, and with the three hundred Targaryen guards added to their number, it was a large party that had left the Red Keep in the morning.
As the King's personal huntsman, Daeron rode at the head of the hunting party, and when the Stag was spotted, he got the first shot.
As the guards went forward in order to rope the Stag so the King could deliver the mercy blow, Daeron rode back and noticed a commotion farther back, where Rhaenyra and the Velaryon siblings rode.
Daeron got goosebumps, like the ones he had right before he suffered a hard blow during his sparing matches, and with all his instincts screaming that something was wrong he immediately headed towards the commotion.
Soon, he spotted the reason for the ruckus, a giant boar, bigger than a man and at least 80 stone in weight with tusks three palm big facing a dozen guards.
But even though they had managed to block its charge, they weren't faring well against the beast. Of the dozen men, four were injured. The beast had mauled one, and he was now rolling on the ground spilling out his guts. Another's legs the beast had crushed in rampage, he was lying unconscious on the forest floor. The other two weren't doing well either, one's skull had been fractured and another's arm was lacerated.
Eight remained fighting the boar. And even though the beast itself bled from over a dozen cuts, it's fierceness only grew.
Without thinking, Daeron shot a arrow from his horse's back that went right through the boar's eye, not quite enough to kill it, but still robing it of half its vision.
As he nocked another arrow to finish the job, he saw a blur of white run past the guards, and taking advantage of the beast's faltering, pierced it on its now blind side with a great boar spear.
In pain and rage, the beast let out a terrifying squeal, trying to use its tusks to skewer the knight, but Daeron was faster. He shot his second arrow from atop his galloping stallion, hitting in the same place, this time pushing deep enough reach the beast's brain, killing it instantly.
With the threat dealt with, Daeron rode to find Rhaenyra and the Velaryons-"Is everyone alright?!"
"Daeron! How?!"-Laena said, flabbergasted.
"I saw the commotion while returning, what happened here?"
"We received word the Stag had been spotted and we should wait here, and as soon as we dismounted, th-that beast attacked us."-Rhaenyra said, her voice still quivering.
"So those arrows were from you?"-The Kingsguard asked as he approached, his white cloak colored in fresh pigsblood.
"Yes."-Daeron answered curtly, for some reason, he never truly liked Ser Criston, though the fact that he recently took Ser Ryam's place in the Kingsguard did not help his impression. To be fair, Daeron had the inkling Ser Criston didn't like him either.
"Thank you for protecting us, Ser Criston, Cousin."-Rhaenyra interrupted, breaking the tension.
"I was only doing my duty, Princess."-Ser Criston answered her back, while Daeron only gave a small smile she always seemed to get.
Soon after the incident had been resolved, Laena came up to Daeron to thank him. They talked for a while, before Daeron excused himself, saying he had to go back to the King's side.
As he walked, he saw of the remaining guards. Some were busy butchering the boar, while others were tending to those injured under Ser Criston's direction.
Just as he was about to leave, he heard the blowing of horns, indicating the King was returning to the Red Keep.
He turned to Rhaenyra to see if she knew of the reason for the King's unusual early retreat, even more so when they had just caught the Stag, and he overheard her talking with her shild.
"Princess, I just received a messenger from the castle. The Queen is in labour."-He said- "And from the sound of those horns, I gather the King is returning as well. I have ordered the men to carry back the boar. But I think it's best if you and I return to the castle post haste."
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The golden rays of the autumn sun shone down on the castle's courtyard, not a speck of gray tainted the bright blue sky. The morning air had a chill to it, and the occasional breeze carried with it the damp, earthy scent of wet grass.
The Queen had died. As had her newborn son and Heir to the throne, outliving her by only a day. Yet, the world continued unbothered, as if to mock the somber mood of it's inhabitants.
The entire Targaryen family had gathered to mourn her death together. As had the Velaryons and the Hand. Everyone wore black in mourning. Even the Kingsguard had tied black scarves to their gauntlets.
Usually, the funeral of the Queen would have been attended by the entire court. But Viserys had wanted to avoid a spectacle. He wanted to bid farewell to his wife in peace and quiet.
Daeron stood beside his father as Rhaenyra stepped forward to complete the final parts of the funeral. By Targaryen tradition, the husband should step forward to cremate his wife, but with the Black Dread long dead, it fell onto the young Princess to perform the ritual.
She led Syrax carefully over to the funeral pyre, her eyes, red and swollen, betrayed her cold facede. The girl was barely eight name days young, much too young to burn her own mother's corpse.
"Dracarys!"-Her voice shook.
But Syrax's flame didn't, as a gout of golden yellow flames consumed the pyre in its entirety.
The next seven days were to be days of mourning. There were to be no Feasts or celebrations in the City, the King had decreted.
Lost on what to do, Daeron went to find his father's room, only to find it empty. 'Where could he have gone at such a time, when their family needed them the most?' Daeron wondered to himself, aware he was in no position to comfort the King and Princess. Besides, what would he even say?
He wondered aimlessly, once again lost in the ramblings of his own mind.
"The Princess is tired, what is your business with her?"-Ser Criston's voice broke him out of his stupor, just outside the Princess chambers.
"Why have I come here?"- he asked himself, the reason already evident. "I wish to speak to Rhaenyra. Tell her I am here."-He said, wondering what he would say.
"The Princess is tired. She asked me to keep everyone out. Now go!"-Said the Kingsguard in a threatening tone.
"You are no one to speak on her behalf. Make way, I shall speak to my cousin."-Daeron demanded.
"I am in no mood, bastard! This is my last warning. Go!"-The Kingsguard said, reaching for his sword.
Daeron's face morphed in anger-"You-"
"Ser Criston, what os this commot- Ah."-Rhaenyra interrupted opening the door, coming to a halt as she saw him-"Daeron, what are you doing here."
"I have come to check up on you, rhaeny. I am worried about you."
"Well, don't be. I'm fine. And don't call me rhaeny, I am not a child anymore."-She said her voice growing colder with each word-"You should go comfort my father as well. He must be so heartbroken he didn't have time to talk to his daughter."
"Rhaeny-"
"Goodbye Daeron."-She interrupted him-"Ser Criston, don't let anyone bother me again."
She slammed the door shut before he could argue.
Rhaenyra was hurt. Broken. And yet, what could he do? Even if she were to listen to him, there was nothing he could say that would bring her back her mother.
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The entire Court had been summoned to the throne room for a royal announcement.
The King wasn't on the Iron Throne. Instead, Otto sat it today, and as the Heralds brought the court to order, he said-
"In the name of His Grace, Viserys of Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, and by my word, Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, I hereby declare the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen as Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne. Further as per King Viserys' wishes, all the Lords of the Realm, from the greatest Lords Paramount to the lowest of the landed knights, will assemble at King's Landing to do obeisance to the Princess. They shall swear fealty to her as their future Queen."
Immediately, the courtroom exploded in a flurry of voices at the news. It was needless to say, the Lords were unsettled by the news.
But Daemon was another matter. Standing beside his son, he was seething in fury, fists clenched at his sides, teeth gritted in anger.
Suddenly Daemon stepped out from the crowd of nobles, and walked upto the Iron Throne.
"This is preposterous."-He declared-"Never has there been a woman ruler in our history."
"I am only the King's Hand, I enact his will.
If you have any objections you should present them to the King. Though you can't, can you? He has denied you audience, after all."-Otto said gleefully.
Daemon ground his teeth.-"Very well, if this is his decision then so be it."
He stripped off his gold cloak, throwing it onto the floor of the throne room.
"I, Prince Daemon Targaryen hereby resign from my position as Commander of the City Watch."-He declared.
"My brother can award the position any one of his lickspittles. I am done with this City."-He said, striding off.
Daemon took hold of Daeron's hand and pulled him along as he left the Great Hall.
"Where will we even go?"-asked Daeron as he followed after his father.
"Home."
