𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓢𝓸𝓷

Chapter 65 You are the key, Sylvina

The sun had just begun to rise as Aegon and Rhaenyra rode back toward camp, their horses' hooves creating a rhythmic sound on the forest path. The morning mist lingered, casting an ethereal glow around them. Suddenly, out in the distance, they spotted something that made them both stop in their tracks.

A majestic White Hart stood amidst the trees, its regal form almost shimmering in the early light. The creature's eyes locked onto theirs, and a sense of awe filled the air.

"A White Hart," Rhaenyra whispered, her voice filled with wonder. They both knew what this meant—legends spoke of the White Hart only revealing itself to true royalty, those destined for greatness.

Aegon dismounted first, followed closely by Rhaenyra. He approached the creature slowly, holding out his hand to show that he meant no harm. Rhaenyra mirrored his movements, her heart racing as the White Hart slowly approached them.

When the creature was within reach, Aegon gently placed his hand on its soft fur, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A White Hart," he whispered again, reverence in his tone. Rhaenyra stepped closer, her hand joining Aegon's as they both petted the magnificent animal.

"Alicent is going to be so jealous," Rhaenyra said with a playful grin, breaking the spell of the moment. Aegon chuckled softly in agreement.

Suddenly, the White Hart backed up a step, its head lowering in a bow—a sign of deference and recognition. Rhaenyra's eyes widened in surprise, and she looked at Aegon for guidance.

"What do we do?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon took a deep breath, the weight of the symbolism not lost on him. "As much as this is the proof we need to show the world that we are the rightful rulers," he began, "we have to let it go. The White Hart is not ours to claim."

Rhaenyra hesitated for a moment, gazing at the creature in front of them. She knew Aegon was right. With a soft sigh, she stepped back, allowing the White Hart the freedom to choose its path.

The White Hart stood tall, casting one last glance at them before gracefully retreating into the woods, disappearing into the mist as if it had never been there.

Aegon turned to Rhaenyra, a solemn expression on his face. "Come on, we'd better head back," he said, climbing back onto his horse.

Rhaenyra followed, still feeling the weight of what had just happened. Together, they rode back to camp, knowing that their encounter with the White Hart was a sign—one that neither of them would forget.

Aegon and Rhaenyra rode back into camp, their presence drawing the attention of everyone around. Conversations quieted, and all eyes turned toward the pair as they dismounted. Alicent and Varla sat with Viserys at the table, watching as Aegon helped Rhaenyra down from her horse.

Darvon and Ser Harwin stepped forward, taking the reins of their horses, allowing Aegon and Rhaenyra to walk ahead. As they made their way through the gathering, people bowed in respect to the royal couple, acknowledging their return. Rhaenyra exchanged a quick glance with her father, who gave a subtle nod of approval, while Alicent's gaze lingered a little longer, curiosity flickering in her eyes.