Fire and Blood

Chapter 23: Grand Hunt (Part 3)

The Crownlands ― Kingswood...

Nighttime in the kingswood was cold and the unknown kept Criston on high alert, especially with Rhaenyra and Daemon nearby. He somehow couldn't fathom how two Targaryen royals were related to each other given their respective personalities. Rhaenyra treated Criston like a friend, yet Daemon continued perceiving him as an annoyance. Perhaps the Rogue Prince was still sore over his defeat years ago? Criston would have figured a warrior of his stature would accept his loss with dignity, not act like a sore loser. All he could do now at a time like this was to gather more wood to keep the makeshift campfire burning so everyone could stay warm.

"Hae hunē kirine Zaldrīzdōrot īlō vestretas, kepus. (You seemed so content on Dragonstone, uncle.)" Rhaenyra said to Daemon. "Ao sydlivas ēdas olvie dorolvie vestriarja ivestretan. (You must have quite a few stories to tell.)"

Daemon looked at his niece with a sense of amusement. "Aye. Angez Iksan jiōrinna ao skorȳso rit aōla. (A few, as I'm sure you've no doubt heard yourself.)"

"Sīr... Dāri ej Dekuragon dōra Ȳrda. Olvie pa eglives. (So... King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. Quite the title.)"

"Ñuha menti nȳmagon nykebona tolī īlon ērinagon vīlībāzma. Yn olvȳni dōronrizmon lōragon nyke. Sizi konir mēre Dārys. (My troops called me that after we won the war. But a bunch of rocks and sand bored me. Besides, there is only one king.)"

"Bona mēre Dārys sylutan liortān yne hen naejot Lānisa Jason. Ziry ñuho lī qrīdrūdan nyke mērī. (That 'one king' tried to sell me off to Jason Lannister. He would not leave me alone.)"

"Gaomagon ao jāeltan yne asēntan zirȳla? (Do you want me to kill him?)"

Rhaenyra could not help but hold in a chortle. First Ser Criston, now you? Gods, you're funny when you choose to be, uncle. She listened to the insects chirping and the flames crackling as they continued to burn brightly.

Criston arrived with more sticks, placing them beside the campfire. "Princess, I must make a final plea that we return to the camp," he recommended once more.

"Leave her be, Crispin," Daemon scoffed.

"I rather prefer it here," Rhaenyra agreed.

"His Grace is certain to be worried by your absence."

"His Grace can worry himself to death if he so likes." Rhaenyra refused again.

"But what about the queen―"

"Fuck the queen."

Well, at least I have tried. She is even feistier than I thought – much different than her calculating brother. Criston simply complied with the princess's request and threw in more wood for the fire. But the sound of the horses' neighs and twigs cracking in the underbrush caught everyone's attention. Turning to the side, Criston's sense of awareness heightened, and he instinctively reached for his scabbard.

Daemon heard the noise too and was quick to unsheathe Dark Sister. The Rogue Prince had been out in the kingswood for a long time, so he suspected a lone animal had somehow gotten lost or they were being targeted by someone or something. "Stay here," he warned his niece.

But it was too dark to see what was in front or behind them. Seven hells everywhere were dark aside from the only source of light they had in their makeshift campsite. Ser Criston slowly moved south; sword raised in anticipation of an attack. Daemon, meanwhile, crept eastward while he too prepared for the unexpected. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, merely stayed still as both men had their guard up. If whatever was making those noises were out there in the kingswood bypassed either Ser Criston or Prince Daemon, then Rhaenyra would be left with no defense. She was vulnerable. More twigs snapped and the rustling of the underbrush grew louder, causing both men to turn in the direction of the source.