Chapitre 5: Landscape
99 AC.
When I woke up that day, I had no idea of the whirlwind installed for me. There was no indication of such kind. I woke before dawn, got my usual affairs in order, and set off for the Dragonpit.
I could tell Brien had pulled an all-nighter. His red-shot eyes stung at the morning light, "Hey, Theodore."
Theodore carried his satchel of ledgers, "Yeah?"
"You bring any bread?"
"No."
Brien was too tired to groan, "Remind me why we didn't eat first?"
"We did."
"I didn't hear anything?"
Theodore shrugged, "You skipped breaking your fast so many times that we stopped sending word."
"I can just hear Archmaester Hobard now…" Brien did his best tortoise neck, "' You can't be a maester if you can't care for yourself!'"
Ser Ryam rolled his eyes, "Quiet."
Due to King Jaehaerys doting over me, it was standard for at least one Kings Guard to escort me whenever I ventured from the Red Keep.
The man who drew that lot for today was the legendary Ser Ryam Redwyne.
Recently, Ser Ryam went through an intense few weeks, named acting Hand of the King until Jaehaerys decided on my grandfather Baelon.
You wouldn't think a knight with a career as long as Ser Ryam could gain any more prestige. But with his joust against Ser Clement and my portrait of it, public perception ran wild.
Ser Ryam could have hung up the cloak and gotten into politics. Alas, the Gods built him differently — true to his vows, a King's Guard till death.
I led our little procession through the streets.
Dawn was my favourite time in Kings Landing. The calm paths allowed stray cats their free reign and the atmosphere yet to thicken with the sun.
The sun's orange gleam folded over the Dragonpit as we arrived.
To my delight, Sundance was already above ground. Three acolytes tried to keep him at bay with sticks, but my Dragon thought it was a game and snapped his jaws at them.
"Sundance!" I called, and his head flicked in my direction like a Meerkat. We ran at each other as star-crossed lovers reunited on the beach, only instead of ending it with a hug, we wrestled.
And by wrestling, I mean we tumbled around on the dirt. Sundance was no fool and adjusted his strength so I could feel included in our skirmishes.
One of the Dragonkeeper elders — Zed, I called him, for the Z-shaped wrinkle on his forehead — greeted me in High Valyrian.
<" Welcome, Prince Rhaenar. As you can see, he grows more restless.">
<"You say restless,"> I replied, patting Sundance on the neck, <"I say lively.">
I noticed a fresh gash on his stomach. Zed's patchwork kept improving, < "Who was it this time?">
< "Dreamfyre. At this rate, he'll need to be separated. The other Dragons don't take too kindly to the constant play fighting.">
I could only laugh at that. How many fights did I witness in prison that started because both parties were bored? The mind yearns for anything when you're closed in by four walls.
By now, Sundance exceeded the size of a wagon, though he looked enormous when curled around me. He brought up his chin so I could scratch it, blinking his amber eyes.
During these three years, Brien worked closely with Zed and his acolytes, so we had extensive records of Sundance's growth.
He probably would have grown larger were it not for Zed's concern.
My daily visits ensured Sundance was well-fed, exercised, and stimulated before midday. However, Sundance had a gluttonous streak.
Zed could only make so many excuses before the increased livestock requirements of the Dragonpit became noticeable.
They say that Dragon and Rider share a bond, and you can often see glimpses of their personalities in each other. My only explanation for Sundance's appetite was that he made up for all the mushy rice I had to eat.
My taste buds had yet to recover despite my new body. Locked inside, all you wanted was the good stuff: Fruits, Nuts, and Water. Anything else was extra. To go from that to dozens of cooks in the royal kitchens wanting to whip you up a decadent meal… Pure culture shock.
(And trust me, the meals were rich! I'm surprised the entire family didn't walk around with gout.)
Brien circled Sundance, the daily inspection.
Those two had a peculiar relationship. Brien trusted Sundance with his life and vice versa. However, Sundance enjoyed messing with him. It wouldn't be a typical day if he didn't threaten violence to Brien at least once.
Again, if we shared a bond, I don't know where that behaviour came...
Boring science out of the way, Theodore and Brien retired to a station of tables and chairs under the shade.
Then, with the help of Zed, I played with Sundance.
A few hours must have passed when a toe-curling screech pierced our eardrums. When we looked up, Zed could spot immediately
< "Caraxes.">
With reckless confidence, Caraxes swooped down, his red scales shimmering. The silver-haired rider smiled at me.
Uncle Daemon spoke in Valyrian, < "Nephew, how good it is to see you.">
He and I got along in those days. Uncle Daemon was everything my father was not — a brash warrior quick to act on emotion.
Out of all my family, I admired Daemon the most.
Targaryen's were the most powerful family on the continent, and many in our history did as they pleased because of this. However, politics would bog our power.
Uncle Daemon couldn't fathom that. If we wanted to fuck our mothers, who could stop us? It's not that Daemon wanted to go around impregnating the whole clan, don't get me wrong, it's just that he detested the other houses trying to equate us to them.
As such, Uncle Daemon carried himself with an infectious, rebellious nature. Many would scoff at his antics in court, but we all enjoyed it deep down. I was glad King Jaehaerys gave Daemon the famed sword Darksister.
So naturally, I ran up to Daemon with the eyes of a child in admiration, < "Welcome back, Uncle. How was your trip to Essos?">
< "The Narrow Sea,"> he corrected, though I questioned the difference, < "The same as ever. I have a present for you.">
I shook my head at the silly Uncle, < "For which name day? The Third? Fourth?">
Uncle Daemon had a habit of showing up late for my birthdays. Not Rhaenyra's (despite her and I being born minutes apart).
She got her name day gift each year without exception. I got mine at such irregular times that you may not call them presents.
More so a 'box' to be 'ticked' before the following year, as it would be awkward for Rhaenyra to receive her present when I hadn't even got mine from the year prior.
< "You wound me, dear Nephew. How long have you been asking me for this?">
Daemon took a vial from Caraxe's saddle. The sight of it shook me into speaking the common tongue.
"That can't be—"
Uncle Daemon had a chuffed smile, "That's right. Shade of the Evening."
"My Gods, thank you so much!"
He held it just enough out of my four-year-old reach, "Hold on. Before I hand it over, I must ask you again—"
"I told you Uncle. It's not for me. Hey, Brien!"
Brien glanced over without a care.
"Get over here!"
Brien let out a great sigh, the kind you would lose your tongue for if I were anyone else. I could see Uncle Daemon hold back his anger.
His pace quickened when Brien saw the vial in Daemon's hands.
"Tell me that's not what I think it is?"
"You bet. Think it will be any help to your research?"
Brien took the vial from Daemon and held it against the sky, "Maybe not if only I looked into it. If we brought in that man I mentioned—"
I quickly changed the subject. That matter needed some serious schmoozing before Father or GrandGrace would agree…
"Yes, it would 'greatly accelerate your research', I know. Give me time. It's a touchy subject to broach."
That's when Uncle Daemon asked me seriously for the first time, "What do you intend on doing with it, exactly?"
I scratched my head, doing my best to play the clueless child, "Brien wanted to experiment with his consciousness. Whatever that means."
He looked to Brien, who shrugged with his best lie, "If I can glimpse the Shade's compounds, perhaps there is room to tweak its recipe for more 'recreational' purposes."
Brien ran his finger along his lips.
Uncle Daemon got a twinkle in his eye at that, "Ahh… I see. Be sure to keep me notified."
But the twinkle escaped him when he saw Sundance again, playing with Caraxes, nipping at his heels.
"Sundance is growing strong as ever, I see."
I took it as praise, "Thanks. We've put him on a more regimented plan as of late. Less food, more exercise. Zed's idea."
Uncle Daemon sometimes looked at me like I was some gold-standard Dragon tamer. But the only difference between the rest of the family and me was the idle time I put into it.
Everyone had a faint passive aggressiveness toward me whenever it came to Dragons. I wasn't even a rider, yet the time I spent with Sundance irked them.
If I smelt even a little bit dragon-ish: 'aw, pee-you! Someone needs a bath.'
Or the snickering whenever I'd ask to go to the Dragonpit after supper. All unnecessary and designed to bring me down a beg or two.
Having Brien and Theodore around did me no favours in that regard.
"I trust you've given Syrax the same attention?" asked Daemon.
"I make sure Syrax gets a run-around here and there. Got my Dragon to feed."
Daemon stirred. He didn't bother to hide who his favorite was, "That's your sister. If you're here every day, you should be helping out with Syrax."
My brow twitched. I didn't bother hiding contempt for this fabricated responsibility
"If Rhaenyra wants to raise her OWN Dragon, then fine. I'm always encouraging her to come along."
I didn't know why, but I had an immaturity about myself since my reincarnation. My only theory was that my brain was underdeveloped. Once or twice, I jumped someplace high only to scrape my knees and cry. Things seemed like good ideas at their time.
In any case, my immaturity always erupted when I felt like people tried putting me in a box.
I thought that was the end of the discussion. Uncle Daemon took his leave to the Red Keep after parking Caraxes. I wasn't there to witness what he did next, but I imagine it went something like this:
->Uncle Daemon prowled the Red Keep after announcing his arrival.
-> "There you are, sweet niece."
-> Rhaenyra was on the floor, role-playingaying with her dolls. You'd be surprised at the complex backstories she created.
->Knights, flowers, princesses in towers.
-> < "Uncle!"> Rhaenyra called with googly eyes. He picked her up when she ran up to him. < "You're back!">
-> < "Yes, Princess. I have something for you.">
-> Uncle Daemon proceeded to put Rhaenyra on his lap. I don't know what he gave her this time, but it wasn't Shade of the Evening, that's for sure.
-> After which, Uncle Daemon whispered his snake-like words.
-> "I just saw Sundance. He's getting big. Much bigger than Syraxes~"
-> "If you're not careful, Rhaenar will leave you behind."
I'm sure that before this day, my sister had no such insecurities. She and I loved each other very much, and I enjoyed her company more as time progressed.
There was something about her wit and tenacity. I also adored how she inherited Mother's cheeky way of getting Father to do her bidding.
The idea of Rhaenyra and I living in different worlds was never really a thing up to that point. She saw how I talked to the adults differently but always thought I was pretending for them, not for her.
My Uncle fucked all of that up. In truth, I was always pretending for the masses. Rhaenyra was one of the few I could put my walls down. Now she was not so sure.
->With rivers running from her face, Rhaenyra bolt through the Red Keep. The Guards spoke their usual concerns at the gate, but Daemon waved them off.
She didn't stop crying the entire way to me.
I was throwing a piece of cooked meat into the air for Sundance to catch when I heard her shriek.
"Rhaenar!"
I knew my sister's call. Immediately I stopped what I was going.
"Rhaenyra! What's wrong?"
"Are you…" she had to sniff back the snot every few words, "Are you doing all this with Sundance so you can leave?"
"What? Of course not. What brought this on?"
I glanced at Uncle Daemon, who shrugged innocently.
"You can't leave me. You can't! Promise you'll never leave."
I wiped the tears from her cheek, "I'm not leaving, okay? Look! I'm playing with Sundance like normal."
"You're going to fly away!"
Now, I had no intention of leaving home any time soon. Nor did I have any idea what brought this on from my sister.
But the way she told me, I 'can't'. The way she wanted me to make a promise I didn't know I could keep…
I felt trapped.
"And what if I did leave? I'll do whatever the FUCK I WANT!"
Never had I barked at her with such a tone. The regret I felt was immediate. Her eyes widened, more white than purple, and they drowned with tears of fury.
"I hate you!" she screamed before storming off.
I'll never forget Uncle Daemon's face. For a moment, I could have sworn he enjoyed the rift between Rhaenyra and me.
He ran after her. Someone had to make sure she was okay.
'Good!' I thought as I watched them leave.
Sundance growled and hissed at the sky.
Theodore and Brien just stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
Ser Ryam reacted differently.
"I beg your pardon, my Prince. You should go after her."
I scoffed, my nostrils still flaring, "Why? So I can apologise for nothing at all?"
"So she knows that you still love her."
My head was spinning at that point. The whole situation sickened me. Why was I the ass hole all of a sudden?
"She knows."
Ser Ryam didn't say anything for a moment. Looking back, I can tell now that he was disappointed in me. Ser Ryam held me to the emotional standard of an adult. My sudden outburst didn't impress him one bit.
The silence was unbearable.
"You should never leave things unsaid, my Prince. Especially after a spout like that."
He spoke as he knew from experience. All I heard was condescension.
"Bah!" I spat, "Screw this. Let's do something. There's this great spot down at the Rush I wanted to try.."
The idea repulsed Brien. He wanted to retire to his books in the Red Keep. Usually, Theodore would be the same.
Theodore resisted the urge to rub his hands together, "That's on the other side of the city. Which route would we take?"
I didn't care at this point. I wanted to do anything to forget my conversation with Rhaenyra.
"I was thinking we'd have a nice stroll through the Street of Steel," I said, and Theodore lightened with every word, "Then the Market, the Docks, the Fish Market, Street of Silk… Anywhere you want!"
Music to Theodore's ears. That man could sit in the Market and watch all day. The whole process of buy and sell — the bartering, relationships, fluctuations — was Theodore's bread and butter.
Suppose you enjoy dating and have ever played the guessing game with your partner. You look at people from a distance and try to guess details about their conversation, backstory, and relationship. In that case, you'll understand what I mean:
Theodore did the same. Only this was in the Market, and he was miles away from getting laid any time soon.
"Excellent!" said Theodore, packing his things, "Let's leave at once."
I heard Ser Ryam release a subtle groan. I had to respect him. The extra stress of escorting the Targaryen artist child through King's Landing in peak hour traffic would have sickened any other member of the King's Guard.
Though I'm sure it did, he never showed it. I'll never forget Ser Ryam's professionalism.
I sometimes wondered, however, if the escort was necessary.
As far as the townsfolk were concerned, I could have walked out of the Red Keep, and all they would see is a dapperly dressed boy accompanied by two unassuming bookworms.
Are heads turning at my clean appearance of high-quality garments? Maybe.
My silver hair raising a few brows? Sure.
It seemed like people were more interested in causing trouble for us when a paranoid Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, dressed in a white cloak and shiny, elitist armor, was following me around.
Eyes watched us the entire way through.
As we strolled the Street of Steel, Theodore did his usual speech.
"We see the sword, the end product. But no one sees the logistics behind it. The materials, transport cost, labor…"
Brien always kept him in check, "Labor, like this conversation right now."
Theodore ignored him, "People always praise the smith. What about the science that got him there?"
Ser Ryam took exception, "Smiths shape steel, not Maesters."
We transitioned to the Market, and Theodore wandered off like a sniffing dog.
I followed him, my dark green hood over my face. Listening to Theodore in the Market was the best form of cheap entertainment.
"Nice necklace. Where is it from?"
The vendor choked on his saliva, "I- ... It's silver, m'lord."
"Let's pretend for the sake of argument that's true." Theodore rattled the necklace, "My question was where it's from?"
Theodore would always say the difference between good and great sales clerks is having a story about where your product is from.
You could earn a fortune selling horse shit so long as you had your story straight.
One of these days, I'd have to challenge Theodore to put his money where his mouth is.
In any case, we strolled all the economic hot spots of Kings Landing, and for a while, Theodore's ramblings let me forget about my spat with Rhaenyra.
We happened upon a pier that extended into the Blackwater Rush. I noticed it one day when we walked at the Fish Market and noted that we must return so I could paint it.
Brien came back from the Red Keep with my equipment. He left us as we were walking the street of flour. His empty stomach couldn't take the smells.
With Brien's delivery, I set up my Easel, dolloped the paints on my palette with a merry whistle, and let the moment captivate me.
My idea was to paint a landscape of the pier. The way it reached out to the Rush invoked a sense of melancholy I wanted to capture.
I got more than melancholy that day.
It started with a pleasant surprise when a certain someone walked into the frame, and the lone pier gained an ethereal companion.
I got triggered by the sudden intruder at first.
"Hey, Ser Ryam. Get them to move along, will you? I'm almost finished."
But then, when I looked around the canvas, I saw a familiar face.
"Is that Gael?" I asked, confused.
"The Princess?" Ser Ryam said, "She hasn't been seen at court in months."
"I wondered about that. GrandGrace was rather cagey about the matter."
Princess Gael was the thirteenth and last child of the old King. A sweet girl with a soft voice and a passive nature.
I saw her often growing up. She and Queen Alysanne were like two sides of the same coin. Her absence made the Red Keep a little bleaker.
I put down my brush and palette and approached Princess Gael.
She stood at the end of the pier. Her toes inched over the edge.
"Gael! It's me, Rhaenar. Where have you been? I've missed you so much."
But when she turned, I saw no life in her eyes. Her hair clumped in knots, and the bloodstains at her groin spoke of no hope.
My heart sank. Princess Gael always held a strong front. When three of her sisters died in five years, Queen Alysanne would have fallen from grief were it not for Gael's support.
However, if all this time Gael was supporting Queen Alysanne, who was supporting Princess Gael?
"Gael…" my voice cracked with fear, and with each small step I took, I could see her wanting to jump
"Please don't do this. I can't imagine the pain and grief you're going through, but I promise things will get better. Your life is too precious to throw away. Take my hand. Let's go back to the people who love us. Let's go home."
Those were all the words I could muster, and for a moment, they almost worked. Gael's hand brushed against mine, but before I could take hold, she leaned back and slipped through my fingers.
As Princess Gael closed her eyes, I witnessed a fleeting moment of pure bliss that seemed to envelop her being.
It was a peaceful sight but also heart-wrenching, as it marked the last time I would ever see her again.
As she took her final breath, a radiant beam of light burst forth from the corner of her eye as if a tear had transmuted into something ethereal, otherworldly.
I'll always think back to that tear, a reminder of the beauty and fragility of life.
The Rush took Gael, never to be seen again.
Brien, Theodore, and Ser Ryam fell to their knees at the devastating tragedy before them.
As for me, the one most front and centre to it all? I'll never be able to explain why I reacted the way I did.
'Rhaenyra—!'
All I could think about was what Ser Ryam had told me earlier.
['You should never leave things left unsaid']
I ran.
Faster than my little legs could carry me. Through the Mud Gate and up River Row, I ran. Up and up that hill until I reached the Red Keep.
"Prince Rhaenar?" the gate guard offered his concern, "What's wrong?"
I didn't stop to answer. I ran past them too. Through the Outer Yard and Middle Bailey, weaving past anyone in my way.
['Especially after a spout like that.']
My heart exploded with a drum solo when I reached the royal apartments.
Father and Uncle Daemon were outside Rhaenyra's chambers.
Father gave me a worried look, "Rhaenar, what happened? Your sister is terribly upset. Only your mother was allowed insi—."
"Out of my way!"
I placed both hands on the door and pushed with all my might.
"Rhaenyra!"
My voice shrilled through the halls, a desperate battle cry.
Inside, Mother had my sister cradled in her arms. Sleeves soaked from Rhaenyra's snot and tears.
Mother put on her disciplinary tone, "There you are. Do you have anything to say about this?—"
Without hesitation, I hastily moved to the other side of the bed and pried Rhaenyra from Mother's arms.
"I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
Father and Uncle Daemon came in, and mother shook her head, just as confused about the situation as they were.
What followed was a mumble of
"I'm not leaving any time soon, okay? You don't have to worry about things like that."
I wrapped my arms around her. Whispers of apologies escaped my lips, mingling with the tears that drenched her forehead.
She responded weakly at first, still stubborn and angry at me, but as I held her, she snuggled her cheeks into my chest, melting into my embrace.
Then she spoke what I longed to hear:
"…'Kay."
With that, everything felt better. Father and Mother sighed with relief and joined to make it a group hug.
Uncle Daemon stood awkwardly to the side. I glanced at him and wondered if he looked sad because he longed for his own family.
Thus was my whirlwind of a day.
Princess Gael's passing was the final blow for Queen Alysanne, the straw that broke the camel's back.
The one thing that had kept my great-grandmother standing through her grief was ripped away. I watched in sorrow as the woman I respected for her sharp wit devolve into a shadow of her former self.
Her once roaring dragon flame was reduced to a mere whimper, its once mighty blaze now nothing more than a bygone ember.
She'd die a year later.
The only thing that kept Queen Alysanne going was my painting of that pier on the Blackwater Rush. She'd sit there gazing at it as if she wished to walk in and take Gael by the hand.
Princess Gael's despair was evident to me, but when the court announced her death as 'Summer Fever', I was outraged.
I altered the painting to depict Princess Gael walking towards the edge with her hair flowing in the wind and the Rush beckoning her death.
In the end, it turned out that Gael was impregnated by some wandering minstrel. Her love was not returned, the fool vanished without a trace. I can't imagine how alone Gael must have felt.
I named the piece 'Summer Fever' as a defiant gesture towards the court, the world, anybody.
I just wanted something to be angry at.
And besides~
What's art if it doesn't ruffle some feathers?
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone