Chapter Text
RHAENYRA
She met him on the day her mother died.
When Princess Rhaenyra asked Ser Harrold about the unknown knight from an unknown house who excelled in every duel, he´s taken up, she got very little as an answer.
That perhaps prompted her curiosity. She always liked mysteries.
And when he walked up to the royal balcony after kicking her proud uncle into dust to ask for her favour, Ser Criston removed his helmet, she was at awe.
A warrior skilled and handsome. Even with the patch of fresh blood in the corner of his mouth, the curtesy of Prince Daemon, face smeared with sweat, the sight made her young heart flutter.
Rhaenyra realized pretty soon that the Valyrian looks of pale hair and gemstone eyes born by her family did not really attract her that much.
Ser Criston Cole had jet black hair and dark chestnut eyes. As her dear friend Lady Alicent, who hardly ever left her side, whispered to her ear, he was very possibly Dornish.
And a long way from home. The Princess made a wish, as her favour glided through the air, down, to him, that she could see this handsome knight some time again.
Though when the news of her mother´s passing reached Rhaenyra´s ears, her flattered heart turned to stone pretty quickly.
It would be six moons before she saw him again.
-
Prince Baelon Targaryen was born was small and sickly, but a fighter. Queen Aemma has laboured and paid for his life with her own, that alone made him even more precious.
The long-awaited heir.
Uncertainty about the royal succession plagued the country no more. Many Lords and Ladies have let out a breath of relief when it became official that Prince Daemon would not be succeeding his brother on the throne, should the situation come to it.
Baleon yet hardly kept his eyes open and slept for the better portion of the day, but already all the great houses had sworn loyalty to his delicately carved wooden cradle.
It was highly unusual for a new-born child to be officially announced as the successor of the King so early, but after years of uncertainty no one dared to complain.
When all the Lords and Ladies have come to swear fealty to her little brother, she saw him again.
Ser Crison Cole was amongst the candidates for the newly opened position of a Kingsguard member. Her father trusted her with selecting the next member, giving the Princess a taste of authority.
Ser Criston stood surrounded by visibly older, grey man without a squire to bear his house´s sigil, still in the simple armour.
Rhaenyra wondered what the pellets of his House symbolised. She wanted to ask him about it.
Though of course, her undeniable fondness of the Knight was not the only reason she granted him the honour to wear the famed white cloak. Amongst the candidates, he was the only properly seasoned warrior.
Those were hard to find in a kingdom that has known only peace for so long.
-
Years went by and her father has taken a new wife. The Lady Alicent of House Hightower, Rhaenyra´s long-time friend and a confidant.
The Princess would have never guessed that betrayal tasted so bitter.
There were no step-siblings yet, as the King was still grieving his late wife and Rhaenyra was told that the match was merely political.
She had her doubts though, as her cousin Lady Laena of House Velaryon seemed like a more fitting match considering her father´s quarrels with the Lord of Driftmark.
Rhaenyra was having a hard time getting used to her new stepmother, closer to her age than to her father´s, and the only comfort she had was in her sworn shield and protector.
Ser Criston Cole became her inseparable shadow. He went where she did, except to the skies on Syrax, of course.
Rhaenyra didn´t have enough confidence in her bond with the she-dragon, yet, that she´d command her to tolerate a non-Valyrian blood on her back.
One day, perhaps.
Though when she suggested it to her white knight, it was the first time she saw dread in his eyes and it made her giggle.
He always looked so stern, serious, but after spending years with him, she knew better. Ser Criston turned from a feared warrior to a playful young man with puppy-like eyes when they spent time in private.
In the woods, in the gardens. The closer they grew, he changed his position from walking behind her to next to her, but one hand still on the hilt of his sword, always mindful of his duty.
-
Ser Criston also rode by her side on the day the royal family ventured out to Kingswood to hunt in a celebration of her brother´s third nameday.
Baelon got bigger, stronger. With pale blonde hair from their father and crystal clear violet eyes from their mother. Rhaenyra was quite fond of him, at least when he was not angry and fussy.
He had some trouble with his voice, his child-like giggles always sounding as a choked whisper. The maesters had said it was due to the nature of the birth, that the poor Prince almost suffocated.
Nobody ever dared to tell the Princess how difficult Queen Aemma´s last labour was, wishing to spare her ears from it.
That did not mean Rhaenyra hadn´t known the nature of her mother´s passing, she overheard some handmaidens whispering in the kitchens when she sought comfort in eating cake.
That day the Princess realized nothing would ever scare her as the birthing bed, a women´s battlefield. Her mother had been cut open like a wild boar only to bring an heir for the Realm.
The symbolism was another reason why she misliked this hunt.
The original one was that her father, the King, has made himself clear.
She is old enough to be wed in the typical fashion of nobility. To a man she does not wish for only to strengthen her family´s grip on power.
And this royal hunt was not only a celebration of her brother´s third name day but also a peagent for her potential suitors.
Rhaenyra knew hardly any nobleman of major houses close to her ripe age of seventeen, save for her cousin Laenor perhaps, which made the prospect even worse.
She´s to become either a nan of a child or a nurse for an old man.
So after she ran away from the royal tent, after a rather public argument with her father, Rhaenyra mounted her horse and bid it to flee as far away from the camp as possible.
And surely enough, Ser Criston Cole rushed to follow his Princess, no matter where she went…