The White Hart

Chapter III - The White Hart

Shadow was eating a freshly killed deer when his best friend called upon him. Arthur had been able to warg since he was a toddler, and more than a few birds had been seen flying dangerously close to Winterfell's courtyard at that time. However, the bond between Direwolf and Stark was the strongest a warg could have asked for. Shadow constantly felt it, every time Arthur mixed his mind with his. Picking up Rhaenyra's scent hadn't been as difficult as they had imagined, indeed, Valyrians had a unique scent. Impossible to describe, yet terribly bewitching. Shadow ran across the trees as fast as he could, while Arthur started doing the same, their minds perfectly in sync. When Shadow caught the scent of a campfire, he slowed down a bit for his friend to catch up. Rhaenyra wasn't even a mile away from the camp, but the night had provided a very useful cloak for her to hide from any lords, but not from Arthur.

As the Stark came closer, Shadow stayed in the shadows and listened to the conversation the Princess was having with her Kingsguard.

"Do you think the Realm will ever accept me as their Queen?" She asked.

Arthur wanted to scoff.

"Accept you? If it were up to them, they'd declare independence from the Iron Throne."

"They will have no choice but to, Princess." The Kingsguard answered.

"They do have a choice, Aegon has been born, and a second, perhaps even a third child is on the way."

Arthur slowed down his pace, not because he was tired, but because he was approaching and didn't want to scare the Princess and her knight. However, Shadow picked up a scent, and a noise echoed in the small clearing were they had started a campfire, alarming the knight.

The Direwolf and the Stark knew what kind of scent it was and weren't as alarmed as the man was.

"Perhaps the Gods do favor my mission." Arthur thought as he stopped warging.

He was but less than a quarter mile away from the fireplace, and he had already prepared his entrance.

(-)(-)(-)

Rhaenyra hadn't felt fear when she had heard a strange noise coming out of the bushes, but when a boar large as a barrel had emerged and knocked Ser Criston flat. The rush of adrenalin and endorphin she experienced had paralyzed her on the spot. The boar made an arc before charging at her. For an abominable second, she thought her life was over, she was a ninety pounds young woman facing a two-hundred-and-sixty-four pounds meat bag with tusks. As the beast approached she couldn't help but feel exasperated by her death, the Princess of Dragonstone… murdered by a bloody pig…

But as the animal was about to reach her, a gigantic shadow came out of the woods and locked its titanic jaws around the boar's neck, who started squealing in terror and pain as the monster's fangs teared out its flesh and bled out its veins. Rhaenyra's paralyzis turned into sheer terror, and she scrambled backwards when she saw the immense creature tear out the boar's flesh as if it was paper.

Meanwhile Ser Criston had gotten up, and charged at the monster the moment it saw it. But the beast disappeared as fast as it came into the darkness, taking the squealing boar with it.

The Kingsguard immediately scanned the area with worry and sword in hand, expecting the creature to come out of the shadows and attack him or the princess. But once the boar's squealing had ceased, a human form came out of the darkness with a cocky smile on his handsome face.

"Looks like you're having quite a party." Arthur Stark mocked as his direwolf came to stand by his sides, the boar's neck still stuck between his jaws. "Mind if we join in?"

Ser Criston looked ready to tell him to get back, for Shadow scared the shit out of him. But Rhaenyra, who had gotten up during his more than dramatic entrance, eyed him from head to toes, before giving her consent with a nod.

"Well, since you and your… direwolf are here, you might as well get conformable."

Arthur smiled at her and nodded in return.

"Thank you, Princess."

He sat on a log as Ser Criston kept eyeing the wolf with worry, but the animal didn't pay attention to him, and proceeded to eat his boar under the amused gaze of its owner.

"Haven't you stuffed your belly enough?" He playfully said as his monster devoured the pig.

Rhaenyra didn't stop eyeing the newcomer, nor did she stop eyeing its creature. Sure, he might not be as frightening as a dragon, but Targaryens didn't fear dragons, that thing was something else entirely, and Syrax was nowhere close enough to defend its rider.

"What are you doing here, my lord?"

It was Ser Criston who had spoken, the knight still had its sword in hand, and couldn't keep his gaze off the direwolf.

"I was sent to find the princess by the King." Arthur answered as he drank a swig from his wineskin. "Though I expect his Grace to be asleep by now, he was quite drunk when I left him."

Rhaenyra threw a dirty look at the Northerner while Ser Criston partially relaxed and slightly dropped his sword.

Arthur noticed the knight's worried look, and spoke:

"There is nothing to fear, Ser. Unless you wish harm, Shadow here won't hurt anyone. I swear this by the Old Gods and the New."

The Kingsguard appeared to be convinced by the Northerner's word, and sheathed his sword. Rhaenyra wasn't so easily convinced.

"Why did my father ask you to search for me, my lord?"

"Because your father asked me to be your personal adviser, princess." Arthur admitted as he took a sip from his wineskin. "His Grace judged that since our personnel interests aligned, we would make perfect allies."

Now Rhaenyra's interest -and wariness- was truly picked.

"What do you mean?"

"Simple;" Arthur said as the Goat's milk was getting the best of him. "Among the Kingdoms, only the North will declare you as its Queen simply because Lord Rickon swore the oath. The others will take more than a few convincing words, and since the North tied its destiny to your claim, well, we have every interest in seeing you succeed."

Rhaenyra's eyes widen in realization and relief as she heard those words. Finally, she was given an ally in her quest. Ser Criston looked more dubious though.

"How dare you question the honor of the Southern Kingdoms?" He growled with anger.

"The southern kingdoms will go to the highest bidder, as they did under the Cruel's rule." Arthur retorted with annoyance. "Look at Lord Lannister, the King offered him a match with the Princess, yet all Lord Jason could see was the opportunity to gain a Valyrian bride for his offsprings."

Rhaenyra almost bit her tongue when she heard that, yet she couldn't deny his claims. Lord Jason had made his point painfully clear.

"As for the Reach and the Stormlands… Well… no one contradicted lord Hobert when he called Aegon: 'the Conqueror babe second of his name.' Where they stand is obvious. And the Riverlands are as weak as they've always been; they'll choose the strongest side as always. The Vale might actually back your claim, given your mother's lineage. But your uncle's unfaithfulness might have undermined you in their eyes. Though, I admit I can't be sure enough to affirm anything. Those are just theories."

Rhaenyra felt her teeth grit, she couldn't believe the audacity of this northern savage.

"You speak bold words, for a man who isn't even a Lord." She vociferated, remembering Ser Criston's reassuring words. "How could any of the southern lords contest my claim to the throne?"

"Through a Great Council, Princess." Arthur almost laughed, for it was so evident in his eyes. " The southern lords will argue that they swore their oath before Aegon's birth. And will pretend that King Viserys was mad with grief over Queen Aemma's death. They will not dare say it to his Grace's face or yours, but the moment your father dies, I expect our Lord Hand to call for a Great Council. And if you don't have any political support as you don't right now, you'll loose the Throne. That is almost certain."

Rhaenyra couldn't believe her ears, was her position as precarious as Lord Stark was saying? Could she truly be seen as expendable as he pretended?

"Then what would you have me do?" She almost cried. "What sacrifice do I have to make in order to obtain what is mine by rights?"

Arthur raised his hand to calm her down a bit, then he spoke :

" When your father wanted you to marry, he didn't do it for his profit, he did it for yours. The best way to make alliances is through marriage. You need armies, gold and influence. Right now, you have none. And your father's word will never be enough for you to obtain all three."

Rhaenyra snorted loudly, knowing where this conversation was going.

"And I suppose marrying you would solve all my problems?"

To her surprise, Arthur looked appalled by her question.

"By the old Gods, No! I'd be a terrible match; I'm merely the nephew of a great Lord already sworn to you. There is nothing I could give you but what you already have. You need to aim higher if you expect the Seven Kingdoms to bow to you."

Rhaenyra was taken aback, she never expected a man to describe himself as a 'terrible match'.

"What if I don't wish to get married?"

"Then you're fucked, in a way you'll never enjoy." Arthur retorted coldly.

Both Rhaenyra and Ser Criston were appalled by the Northerner's crude words, the Kingsguard in particular, looked ready to punch Arthur. He would have done so if not for the Direwolf next to him.

"How dare you speak to me this way?!" Rhaenyra almost screeched with anger.

Arthur merely shook his head, and pierced the Valyrian woman's purple eyes with his cold grey stare.

"King Viserys ordered me to, and I quote : ' shower you with as many Northern hard truths as I can.' I'll never tell you what you want to hear, Princess. But I'll always tell you what I believe you need to hear."

Rhaenyra looked at her new adviser with a dumbfounded expression, it took her a moment to recompose herself.

"If I have to marry…" She spoke slowly as she sat on a log. "Who's the best match to back my claim?"

"Laenor Velaryon."

Rhaenyra snorted the moment that name escaped the Northerner's lips, Ser Criston was eyeing her with worry.

"I know my cousin better than you do, Stark. He has no interest in women."

"Now you see… that doesn't matter," Arthur shrugged as he joined his hands. "He's the heir to the wealthiest house in the Realm. By marrying him, you'd acquire the Velaryon's fleet and wealth, as well as three dragonriders and the Sea Snake's political influence. Through the Princess Rhaenys, you'd have a tie with the Baratheons. It might not be enough to secure the Throne completely, but this would be a gigantic step forward."

Despite her internal disgust, Rhaenyra paused to consider every point the Stark was making. It didn't take long for her to realize that he was right, Laenor was the best political match she could find. But… despite the fact that she liked her cousin well enough… She would never be happy if she were to become his wife. It was so unfair! Her father was King and had married for love twice! Why did she have to put up with all the shit men were demanding her to do in order to obtain what was hers by right?!

She was interrupted in her thoughts by a wet nose against her cheek, she turned her head to discover that the Direwolf was standing right in front of her, his yellow eyes looked filled with compassion as he proceeded to rub his hairy head against the Princess's face, who giggled in relief.

"Thank you," she whispered genuinely as she hugged the creature's neck under the wary look of Ser Criston. "What's his name?"

"Shadow," Arthur answered with a puzzled look, "and he isn't usually as comfortable with strangers."

A cocky grin appeared on Rhaenyra's face as she kept scratching the wolf's head, she eyed the handsome face of her new adviser and raised an eyebrow.

"I've realized that I still don't know your name, my lord."

"It's Arthur, Arthur Stark."

"Well met then," she said as she eyed his wineskin. "Is that wine?"

"No, it's fermented Goat milk. Strongest stuff you'll find in the Seven Kingdoms. Your father coughed so violently when he drank it, that the Kingsguard had thought that I had poisoned him and almost slit my throat."

Rhaenyra laughed loudly.

"I wish I could have seen that." She said as she held out her hand.

Arthur rose a playful eyebrow and passed her his wineskin, the Princess drank a small swig from it, and widened her eyes as her throat started to burn her like all Seven Hells combined.

She coughed so hard that both Arthur and Criston had to gently strike her back, Shadow rose his head from her laps to prevent being covered in postillions.

"You… you weren't jesting," she croaked as she passed the wineskin to her sworn shield. The Stormlander eyed it warily.

"I shouldn't drink during duty, Princess…"

"Drink!" she nearly screamed as she started to feel the effects of the milk. "Your princess commands it."

Ser Criston took a small sip from it, and to the Valyrian girl's annoyance, managed to prevent any coughing from escaping his throat.

"That was the worst thing, I've ever drank," he croaked as he gave the wineskin back to Arthur who laughed. "Do Northerners really drink this?"

"Only wildlings do, and not for the taste." the Stark japed as he took another swig.

"Wildlings?" Rhaenyra repeated interested. "You've been North of the Wall?"

"Of course I've been North of the Wall, that's where I found Shadow when he was a pup."

The direwolf didn't react to his name, he had put his head back on the Princess's laps and proceeded to sleep in order to digest his last meal.

"Do wildlings truly eat human flesh?" Rhaenyra asked.

"Not all of them, just a few Ice River clans."

Rhaenyra then proceeded to shower her new Stark acquaintance with questions about his homeland and the lands beyond the Wall. Soon enough Ser Criston joined her, curious about the way wildlings fight.

They spent the entire night talking, drinking and japing. And for a night, Rhaenyra forgot about the Throne and the Court affairs. She wouldn't admit it outloud, but she was glad to have found an ally in Arthur Stark, who didn't hide the truth from her and actually offered her real solutions to her problems, no matter how unpleasant they were. And he was also handsome and good company.

When the sun started to rise up, Rhaenyra informed the two men at her sides that she wished to admire the land from the highest point they could find, despite both Arthur and Ser Criston's urges to go back to camp.

Rhaenyra had ignored them, and quickly enough, had found the perfect place to admire the countryside, even if the King's camp was ruining it with all the smoke that came out of it.

The Princess felt at peace here, far from her father and all the Lords that lusted after her Valyrian womb or her birthright. She enjoyed the fresh air of freedom, knowing it would be quite long before she could taste it again.

A loud footstep caught her attention, and she widened her eyes in wonder when she discovered the magnificent beast that had presented itself before her.

The White Hart, The King of the King's wood, the symbol of Royalty in Westeros before the arrival of the Dragons. Rhaenyra couldn't believe her eyes, a wave of relief washed over her heart.

She saw Ser Criston unsheathe his sword while Arthur seemed ready to order his beast to tear the animal to pieces.

"No," she whispered to not scare the Deer away.

But Arthur turned his cold grey stare at her, slightly startling.

"By killing the White Hart, you'd sent a very powerful message across the Realm. You'd prove that the Gods have favored you, that you're the one true heir to the Iron Throne. The Most pious lords would be convinced to rally to your side simply by killing this beast, the Faith would be on your side too."

"I agree with Lord Arthur, Princess." Ser Criston urged her. "This is a golden opportunity for you."

In the span of a second Rhaenyra's calmness was replaced by anxiety, she hadn't expected her knight and her adviser to discuss her decision, and now she felt lost and undecided as the White Hart turned to leave.

"Princess." Arthur urged her.

But Rhaenyra didn't listen to him, a memory had flashed through her head; Otto Hightower's cocky grin and the arrogant words he had dared to pronounce right in front of her:

"A regal portent for Prince Aegon's name day."

Rhaenyra had dreamt, often, of the day she would force the Lord Hand to swallow his pride back and acknowledge her as Queen. Today was that day.

"Kill it," she commanded as the Stag was already running away.

Arthur didn't need to be told twice, his eyes rolled back, and his Direwolf went for the hunt.

Rhaenyra was astonished by the sheer speed of the Northern beast who caught up with the White Hart before she could even blink. Ser Criston and Arthur hadn't lost any time, they had drawn their swords and rushed after the animals.

Shadow caught the hind leg of its prey between its jaws and ripped off half of it, the stag's cries of pain echoed through Rhaenyra's skull as she finally snapped of her trance. She kicked her horse and galloped after her two companions.

The White Hart rolled on the ground and tried to get up quickly despite its missing leg to avoid another attack from its predator. But Shadow hadn't slowed down its pace, he grabbed the other hind leg and crushed it between his fangs. The prey cried in agonie and tried to harm the wolf with its antlers, but the predator had quickly backed down where the half legless stag couldn't reach him.

Arthur and Ser Criston rushed for the White Hart while it was being distracted by Shadow, the Kingsguard slashed the animal's neck muscles to weaken the movements of its antlers. However, one of the stag's antler grazed his armor, forcing him to back down and giving Arthur the opportunity he needed to slash the other side of its neck.

The White Hart cried in agony as his neck was no longer able to support its heavy head, and collapsed in the dirt, still breathing.

Rhaenyra arrived while her knight and adviser were strongly grasping the antlers of the White Hart to prevent her from being harmed, Shadow had climbed atop of the wounded prey and crushed it with all it weight.

"Princess," Ser Criston called. "Take my sword and stab its heart."

The heir to the throne picked up her swornshield's weapon, and sparred a sad glance towards the agonizing creature. Arthur caught a glimpse of her expression.

"The path towards power is drenched in blood, my lady." He said with his cold northerner's voice. "Either you run away from it or you plunge into it, there is no middle-ground."

Rhaenyra's strength returned to her when she heard his words, and a cold and determined expression colored her face. She walked towards the beast's flank, and raised Ser Criston's sword.

"A bit more to the left, Princess." Her knight told her.

She followed his instructions, saw her men nod their heads, and stabbed the White Hart.

A spurt of blood spattered her face as the King of the King's wood let out one final cry of pain in agony before it stopped moving and breathing. Rhaenyra felt her heart rise to her lips, as Arthur and Her Criston came by her sides.

Her knight pulled a handkerchief and proceeded to clean her face, he noticed the few tears that were shining in her purple eyes.

"Was it the first time you killed, Princess?"

She barely nodded, Ser Criston and Arthur exchanged a knowing look.

"You need a moment." The northerner said. "Ser Criston and I will find a way to bring the White Hart back to the camp while you recompose yourself."

Once again, she barely nodded, her attention solely focused on the corpse of the King of the King's wood.

She didn't even hear the northerner and the stormlander walk away, what she did feel, though, was Shadow's tongue on her cheek.

It still amazed her to see how tall the Direwolf was, despite the fact that she was standing, the beast was still taller than she was. But what really warmed her heart was the obvious concern that she could see in his mesmerizing golden eyes. She smiled as a few tears ran down her cheeks and hugged the wolf tightly. Thankful for its support.

Her thoughts went to the beast's master, this unusual barbarian who had appeared out of nowhere to support her despite the fact he had never met her.

His words resonated inside her skull.

"The path towards power is drenched in blood, my lady. Either you run away from it or you plunge into it, there is no middle-ground."

" By killing the White Hart, you'd sent a very powerful message across the Realm."

"The North tied its destiny to your claim, we have every interest in seeing you succeed."

This man was nothing if not confusing. For someone like Rhaenyra, who had been surrounded her entire life by schemers and manipulators, having a man like Arthur, who was ready to advise her and fight for her out of duty only, was refreshing and heartwarming. If he had been the heir to half as much wealth as Laenor, she would have considered making him her consort. But she would settle in having him as an adviser, and would find a way to reward his loyalty in the future when she'd sit on the Iron Throne. Arthur Stark was her very first loyalist, she would not forget that.

(-)(-)(-)

Despite the fact that it was already midday, Viserys' skull still hurt like hell from all the wine he had drank the night prior. Fortunately, the large yet ordinary stag he had killed this morning had eased his headache partially. He had been so worried he had made a mistake into naming Rhaenyra his heir, he feared that, should the Gods be cruel enough to prove him wrong by offering the White Hart to Aegon, he'd have to destroy what would remain of his family by reversing his decision.

But it hadn't happened, and Viserys had felt both relief and disappointment when he saw the brown stag. Relief because his decision to make Rhaenyra his heir hadn't been proven wrong, and disappointment because his dream ended up being just that, a dream. Which meant he had killed Aemma… for nothing more than the selfish desire of being remembered as a dreamer… He was despicable… and his illness was a punishment he would endure until the day he died for his crime.

Otto had wanted to send a searching party after Rhaenyra, but Viserys had dismissed the idea. Knowing his daughter, she was probably enjoying her time with her sworn shield and her new adviser.

His thoughts went to Arthur Stark, for he liked the lad perhaps more than he would care to admit.

He was smart, strong, honest, he had a legendary beast by his sides, and he was dutiful enough to travel across more than half of the Realm to prepare the future of his country by aiding Rhaenyra. Viserys secretly hoped that Aegon would follow in the Northerner's footsteps, and that him to, would do his duty and help his sister in her rule.

In the mean time, he hoped the Stark lad would have a good impact on his daughter, and would help her prepare better than he ever could.

But despite all of his hopes and positive feelings, he would have never dreamed to picture such a triumphal return for his daughter.

He was sitting at the grand table, with his council and his family, when he saw a crowd form itself around the entrance of the camp.

Rhaenyra overlooked the people as she stood straight on her mare, followed by Ser Criston and Lord Arthur, who seemed to be towing something with their horses.

The Direwolf was quick to involuntarily scare the crowd away, allowing Viserys to catch a glimpse of the creature they had caught, his eyes nearly popped out their sockets when he saw its white skin.

He got up in an instant, startling Otto and Alicent in the process but he didn't notice. He was possessed by a mad hope, the mad hope that in the end, he had been right. He quickly walked around the table in order to catch a better look of the beast his daughter was bringing back, and when he did, he felt tears of joy and pride fill his eyes.

Rhaenyra's hair and clothes were still covered by the White Hart's blood, but according to Arthur, this enhanced her looks in a warrior-like way.

"People will look at you and they'll see a new Visenya." he had said with a satisfied smirk.

And he had been right.

The highborn and small-folk alike had looked at her in a new light, some had bowed deeper than they ever had, others had looked more terrified than she had ever seen them. All in all, she saw this as a massive improvement compared to the boring and bored looks she got the day prior.

She saw her father standing near the grand table and rode in his direction, she acted nonchalantly, as if her trophy was something that they all should have expected her to bring back.

When she dismounted however, she froze the moment she saw her father's eyes.

Never in her life, had Viserys looked at her with as much pride as he had done at this moment. The tears of joy she saw run down his cheeks filled her own heart with pride and joy. She was so caught up in the moment that her neutral expression broke, and a shy smile appeared on her face.

But then, she saw the furious look in Ser Otto's eyes, and a cruel satisfaction rose in her purple iris.

"It appears that the King of the King's wood has chosen its Queen, my dear Lord Hand." She said in a petulant voice, that she was sure, would make Arthur Stark roll his eyes in amusement.

The Hand of the King looked as if he had been slapped right across his arrogant face, perhaps her father would reprimand her later, but she didn't find it in her to care. The Hightowers, Otto and Hobert, had humiliated her multiple times yesterday, as her adviser had pointed out, they had deserved retribution.

Arthur Stark walked towards the Grand Table, and poured himself two cups of wine in front of the outraged looks of Lord Lyonel, Lord Hobert, and Lord Jason, and the disbelieved look of the Queen. He then proceeded to walk towards the King and his heir, and offered his liege a cup that he took with a curious glance. Then, the northerner raised his own cup as high as he could, pierced Rhaenyra's purple eyes with his grey ones, and declared :

"Hail, Hail, Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of her Name! The Future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

"Hear, hear!" Viserys gladly joined the Stark.

Ser Criston was the first to applaud her, followed by Ser Harwin Strong and many other knights and small folk alike. Even Alicent smiled at her friend's success and joined in the applause, before her father and uncle reluctantly did the same, conceding defeat for today.

Rhaenyra's composure cracked the moment Arthur had toasted her, she felt tears of joy run down her cheeks as her father clasped a proud hand on her shoulder. She thanked her northerner with a goofy smile that made him laugh a little. For the first time in years, she felt pride, joy and satisfaction fill her heart.

For the first time in her life, she truly felt like a Queen.