WARS TO COME, game of thrones

𝐕. south

"The king demands to see you." Lark stood in the entrance to the tent that had been pitched for him. They had stopped somewhere along the King's Road, between trees swaying gently in the wind and lush green meadows that reminded him of the valley, his homeland. The babbling of a brook somewhere in the distance now brought a tiny echo of Riverfall's song to him and Anrir felt a gentle, warm peace in his chest.

Anrir had actually been looking forward to finding some peace and quiet. But apparently Robert had other plans for him. And you obeyed the king of the seven kingdoms if you had any sense at all. Even if that king was probably one of the best friends you had left. How pathetic.

"Of course," Anrir had just settled down on the cot, his cloak draped over a chair and Beast lying next to it. His traveling clothes were plain, but even here he had taken the liberty of having them decorated with silver embroidery. He struggled to his feet, his back aching from the long ride. Perhaps he was getting old.

Lark put the cloak on him and reattached Beast to Anrir's waist. The knight's calloused hands were firm and cautious in their touch, pausing not a second longer than necessary. "You're not a squire, you don't have to do this," Anrir sighed and the knight smiled slightly. "You have no squire to do that," Lark reminded him and Anrir snorted.

Outside was a busy chaos, but Robert had brought a table and chairs to a quiet meadow a little way off. The guards kept a respectful distance, stationed above a small slope, and Lark stayed behind with them. In his black Riverfall armor, he stood out, looking like an outsider on the one hand, but on the other, the sight of his knight filled Anrir with pride.

Anrir joined Robert and Ned, who had already taken their seats. Food was ready and Anrir would probably have taken something if the atmosphere had been a little more relaxed. Robert's tension hung in the air like a gathering storm.

Ned gave him a quick glance and Anrir curled his lips into what was probably meant to be a smile, but judging by Ned's look was not.

Ned passed him a piece of paper, crumpled and yellowed from a long journey. With a furrowed brow, he unfolded the paper, feeling the eyes of his childhood friends on him.

"A Dothraki," Anrir spoke after reading, "Unusual choice for a Targaryen princess."

"She's not a princess," Robert growled and Anrir realized that he had entered dangerous territory.

"She's a child and an orphan. We can only feel sorry for her, she was probably sold to that Khal Drogo," Anrir spoke anyway and meant it. He had no deep hatred for any Targaryen. Aerys had been a madman and Rhaegar had turned the land into a battlefield with Lyanna's supposed abduction. But there had also been innocent Targaryens. Rhaenys and little Aegon, for example. And her mother Elia. Sometimes the sight of the dead family on the floor of the throne room still haunted him.

Daenerys Targaryen was also innocent. She didn't deserve Robert's hatred. She was a girl at the end of the world and almost completely alone. She and Anrir were probably not so dissimilar.

Robert wouldn't want to hear any of that, though.

"Soon she'll spread her legs and bring her wretched dragonspawn into the world. And then her son will cross the sea with the Dothraki and take my throne," Robert growled darkly.

"They have no ships, Robert," Ned also sighed, "There is nothing to fear. You've wiped out their entire family. Leave them in peace."

"Leave them in peace? After what her family did to you? What they did to Lyanna, your sister. The woman I loved!" Robert was seething with rage now, his voice loud in the peaceful clearing, reminding Anrir of Robert's battle roar at the Trident. "I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on!"