Bab 49: Chapter 49 - Tides Of Change

124 AC

The third day of ninth moon.

Nettles Pov

Dodging the strikes that kept coming, I focused on maintaining my balance and moving with increased speed. "Faster, even faster," I whispered to myself, pushing my body to its limits. It was remarkable how much my strength had improved over the past few months. Gone were the days when I was skinny; now, my body boasted a well-earned weight, and my muscles had developed significantly.

With each passing day, my determination to excel grew stronger. Training had become a way of life for me, a path I chose to walk without hesitation. The mentor who guided me, a seasoned warrior with a heart of steel, pushed me relentlessly. I admired his skill and sought to match it with every fiber of my being.

In the beginning, I stumbled and faltered, struggling to keep up. But gradually, through countless repetitions, my movements became more fluid and precise. I learned to anticipate the strikes, almost sensing them before they even came. It was as if a sixth sense had awakened within me.

The training ground became my sanctuary, a place where I could express myself freely without judgment. Sweat poured down my face, yet I never let it deter me. I welcomed the physical exertion; it was a sign of growth, a testament to my determination.

"Well done, Nettles," came Ulf's voice, his approving gaze meeting mine as I nodded my head with a hint of blush creeping up at his praise. I welcomed the momentary break, settling on the floor to catch my breath after the intense training session.

Addam, always considerate, handed me a water satchel, and I eagerly guzzled the cool liquid, feeling it replenish my weary body. "Thanks, Adam," I managed to say between sips, my voice still slightly breathless.

Amidst the camaraderie, Rhaena couldn't resist a playful jab at me, saying, "Only if you were as good in your studies as you are in the training yard." She wore a smirk, clearly enjoying her teasing.

I shot back with a grin, not backing down, "Says the person who hasn't won a single bout against me." The retort made her bristle with a mix of amusement and irritation, and I relished the friendly banter we often shared.

Baela, always the peacemaker among us, chimed in to soothe her older sister's wounded pride. "She's right about that, sister," she said gently, "but remember, we all have our strengths, and Nettles' skill with a blade is unmatched."

Rhaena huffed, but her annoyance melted away under Baela's kind words. The bond between us was more than just training partners; we were like sisters, pushing each other to grow and improve in every aspect of life.

As we caught our breaths and the sun began to set, we sat together, basking in the camaraderie of the training yard. The training wasn't just about honing our physical abilities but also strengthening the bonds that tied us together as a team.

Ulf, our mentor, leaned against a wooden post, arms crossed. "You're all making progress," he said, his voice low but encouraging. "Remember, the key to becoming a true warrior lies not only in strength and skill but in the resilience of the heart and the willingness to learn."

His words struck a chord within me, as they always did. Training wasn't just about winning bouts; it was about growing as individuals, understanding our weaknesses, and striving to overcome them.

I looked around at my companions, each of us driven by our unique ambitions and dreams. Together, we formed an unbreakable bond, and I knew that with these friends by my side, I could face any challenge that lay ahead.

As the evening settled in, painting the sky with hues of gold and pink, we all rose to our feet, ready to head back to the castle. Tomorrow would bring more training, more banter, and more opportunities to become better versions of ourselves.

"So, how was the training?" Princess Rhaenys inquired with a warm smile as she approached her granddaughters, who were seated at the high table in the castle's grand hall.

"I have improved considerably, grandmother," Rhaena replied with a sense of pride in her voice, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. She was always eager to share her progress with her beloved grandmother.

Princess Rhaenys nodded approvingly, acknowledging her granddaughter's efforts. "Good, good," she said, her eyes reflecting the love and pride she felt for both her granddaughters.

Just then, Princess Rhaenys added, "Your father is coming." The announcement sent a ripple of anticipation through the room, and immediately, Baela's eyes brightened with excitement. She admired her father, and cherished every moment they spent together.

Rhaena's reaction, however, was different. Her expression remained composed, but beneath the surface, there was a hint of apprehension. The memory of the last encounter with her father lingered in her mind—a stern and critical moment that had left her feeling disheartened.

I remember that day vividly, etched into my memory like an indelible mark. It was a day of reckoning, when the weight of injustice hung heavy in the air. The princess, a woman known for her excesses and cruelty, had issued an unthinkable order—to have Adam's tongue severed.

Ulf, ever the protector, stood firmly in her way, refusing to let such an atrocity befall our companion. In doing so, he dared to challenge the whims of a madwoman. I couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, hidden behind a mask of feigned indifference, as I witnessed the outburst that ensued.

Her foolish son, a reflection of his mother's vices, attempted to justify his uncontrollable rage, desperately seeking validation from anyone who would listen. The absurdity of his reasons became apparent to all who bore witness. The princess's sons, products of an ill-fated union, were mere imbeciles, their brown hair and pug noses only serving to underscore their lack of intellect and grace.

Despite their obvious flaws, no one dared to openly criticize them. The power and influence of the royal family loomed like an oppressive shadow, quelling any dissenting voices. But for me, their status held no sway; I held no reverence for these pompous figures. Their privileged lives and self-proclaimed authority mattered little to me.

I had seen the true nature of those in power, witnessed their petty games and disregard for those they deemed beneath them.

And then the dinner came to an end, and I made my way to my room, seeking solace from the turmoil of the evening.

But as I settled into the quiet of my chamber, an unexpected knock at the door startled me. I approached cautiously and opened it to find Rhaena standing there, her eyes revealing traces of vulnerability and apprehension.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly, her voice a mere whisper. I hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, allowing her entry.

She entered my room, and I closed the door behind us, the latch making a soft click that seemed to echo in the silence. We stood facing each other, and I could see the weight of her emotions bearing down on her.

"I... I just wanted to talk," Rhaena said, her voice wavering slightly.

I felt a pang of sympathy for her. Despite our differences and the unease I felt around the royals, Rhaena was my friend, my training companion. And I could see that beneath the façade of privilege, she carried her own burdens and struggles.

With a sigh, I nodded, inviting her to sit with me by the window. We both took a seat, the moon casting a gentle glow upon the world outside.

Rhaena began to speak, her words hesitant at first but gradually gaining momentum. She shared her frustrations with the expectations placed upon her by her status, the constant scrutiny and pressure to conform to the royal image. She longed for a life free from the shackles of tradition, a chance to explore her true self without judgment.

"I envy your freedom, Nettles," she admitted, her voice laced with a mix of longing and admiration. "You're not bound by the expectations of our station. You can be yourself without fear of consequence."

I listened intently, understanding the burden she carried as a member of the royal family. While our circumstances were vastly different, the desire for authenticity and liberation was universal.

In that moment, I saw Rhaena not as a princess but as a young woman yearning for her voice to be heard. We were both trapped in our own ways, she by the crown's weight and I by the limitations of my upbringing.

"It may seem that way from the outside," I replied, my words gentle yet firm. "But freedom comes with its own set of challenges. We all carry burdens, Rhaena. The key lies in finding strength within ourselves to rise above them."

We continued to talk into the night, sharing our hopes and dreams, our fears and insecurities. In that intimate exchange, a bond deepened between us. Our differences became less significant as we discovered a common thread of vulnerability that connected us.

As dawn approached, Rhaena left my room, but her departure was different from her arrival. There was a newfound sense of understanding and acceptance between us. We were no longer just training companions; we were confidants, allies in a world that often felt adversarial.

From that day on, our friendship blossomed, and we supported each other through the trials and tribulations that life threw our way. And though we couldn't change the society we were born into, we found solace in knowing that we were not alone in our struggles. Together, we navigated the complexities of our roles and responsibilities, united by a bond that transcended station and status.

A few days had passed since my heartfelt conversation with Rhaena, and life at Driftmark settled into a more peaceful rhythm. The library had become our haven, a place where knowledge intertwined with camaraderie. Today was no different; we gathered around Ulf, as he delved into the histories of various kingdoms.

The library of Driftmark was a treasure trove of wisdom, its shelves lined with dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. It held the stories of the Seven Kingdoms, chronicling triumphs and tragedies, conquests, and alliances. Ulf's deep knowledge and passion for history brought these tales to life, capturing our imaginations as we sat in rapt attention.

As the sun filtered through the stained glass windows, casting vibrant patterns on the wooden floor, Ulf's voice resonated with authority and warmth. He shared tales of valiant knights and cunning strategists, of noble houses rising to glory and falling into obscurity. We learned not just about battles and conquests but also about the cultural nuances and intricacies that shaped each kingdom.

Rhaena, Baela, Addam and I sat side by side, absorbing every word like sponges eager to soak up knowledge. The library had become our sanctuary, where rank and title faded away, and we were simply young minds yearning to explore the vastness of history.

Ulf noticed our enthusiasm, and a faint smile played on his lips as he continued to regale us with stories. His teachings went beyond the mere recitation of facts; he instilled in us a deeper understanding of the consequences of actions taken by rulers and commoners alike. History, he reminded us, was not just a collection of events but a reflection of human nature and its complexities.

During our breaks, we discussed the lessons and pondered the implications of historical decisions.

Ulf's question hung in the air like a challenge, and we exchanged glances, each contemplating our own strategies for the conquest of Dorne. As the gravity of the task sank in, I found myself recalling the history lessons in the library, seeking insights from past campaigns.

Addam, always the eager and impetuous one, was quick to respond. "I would march on them swiftly, overwhelming their knights with our forces," he said with enthusiasm.

Baela, on the other hand, had a more lighthearted approach. "Oh, Dorne? It's terribly hot, isn't it?" she quipped, her playful tone causing me and Addam to burst into laughter. Ulf, too, couldn't help but suppress a smile at her witty remark.

I pondered for a moment before sharing my thoughts. "Dorne is known for its fierce resistance and guerilla tactics. I believe we must be cautious and patient in our approach," I said, trying to be mindful of the complexities of such a conquest.

Ulf nodded, acknowledging our different perspectives. "All valid considerations," he said. "Indeed, the conquest of Dorne is no small feat. It's a land that has historically proved challenging for many would-be conquerors."

"I would station the royal fleet around Dorne, blockading their ports and cutting off their supply lines," Rhaena spoke, her voice carrying an unsettling determination. "By depriving them of crucial resources, we would force them into a desperate state, teetering on the brink of starvation."

Silence hung heavy in the room as we listened to her chilling strategy. The atmosphere grew colder, and a somber weight settled upon our shoulders. Rhaena's words painted a dark portrait of conquest—one stained with brutality and ruthlessness.

Her voice continued, unwavering in its darkness. "Once they are weakened and desperate, we would strike at their heartland through the treacherous Boneway. Using the devastating power of dragonfire, we would lay waste to each castle, leaving nothing but smoldering ruins in our wake."

A shiver ran down my spine as her words conjured images of destruction and suffering. I glanced at Addam, whose expression mirrored my own horror. Ulf's face revealed a mix of concern and disappointment, his wise eyes filled with a sadness that spoke volumes.

Rhaena's vision of conquest continued, casting a sinister shadow over our previous discussions. "We must ensure that their knights and nobility are vanquished," she declared with chilling conviction. "And to extinguish any flicker of hope, we would unleash unspeakable violence upon the innocent smallfolk until they are broken and devoid of any resistance."

Her words hung in the air, leaving us speechless, unable to fathom the depths of darkness that had taken hold of her mind. It was as if a different person had emerged, one consumed by a thirst for power and vengeance.

Ulf, broke the silence, his tone somber and cautionary. "Such thoughts are laden with the darkness of vengeance and cruelty," he said, his eyes filled with concern. "The path of conquest need not be one of ruthless annihilation. History has shown that lasting peace is not born from the ashes of destruction, but from understanding, compromise, and empathy."

The girl I had come to see as a friend seemed almost unrecognizable in that moment, consumed by a thirst for vengeance.

Addam, always quick to react, spoke up with a mix of admiration and unease. "But, wouldn't such a display of power deter future rebellions? It would show that the Crown is not to be trifled with," he said, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Ulf's gaze softened as he responded. "Indeed, strength is important, but it should be tempered with wisdom and restraint. Fear may quell uprisings in the short term, but it will breed resentment and rebellion in the long run. We must strive for a just rule, one that fosters loyalty and respect, not one founded on terror."

Baela, usually full of life and laughter, sat silently, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and bewilderment.

At that moment, a thunderous roar echoed through the air, and Baela's entire demeanor shifted. Her eyes lit up with excitement, and a radiant smile graced her face.

"Kepa's here!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her delight, and darted towards the source of the commotion, her spirit alive with anticipation.

As we reached outside, our eyes were drawn to a breathtaking sight in the skies—a blood-red dragon, its scales shimmering like rubies in the sunlight. "Caraxes," I whispered softly, recognizing the dragon from Baela's previous descriptions of the dragons on Dragonstone.

With a gracefulness that befitted a creature of legend, the dragon descended and landed slowly. As it touched the ground, a figure dismounted, and my heart skipped a beat as I recognized the rider—Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon possessed an otherworldly presence, his silver hair cascading down his shoulders, and his eyes a striking shade of purple that held a depth of knowledge and power..

Baela, the image of joy, rushed forward to embrace him, a radiant smile gracing her face. The bond between a Targaryen and their dragon was special, but the bond between a daughter and her father was equally profound, and I could see the affectionate connection between them.

As Daemon approached us, Rhaena's nerves were palpable. She seemed uncertain, as if carrying a weight on her shoulders. But as he leaned in and whispered something in her ear, a spark of relief and comfort illuminated her face.

Whatever he said had a profound effect on her, dispelling her earlier anxiety. It was a private moment between father and daughter, and I respected their bond, giving them some space.

Daemon then stepped forward and stood before Ulf, the air thick with anticipation. His expression remained unreadable, and we all held our breath, unsure of what was about to transpire.

For a few moments that felt like an eternity, the two men locked eyes, their unspoken communication enveloping the room. And then, to our surprise, Daemon's stern facade melted away, replaced by a wide grin. He pulled Ulf into a warm embrace, an unexpected display of affection between a Targaryen prince and a seasoned warrior.

"We have to talk," Daemon said as he held Ulf close, his voice hushed and serious. Ulf's expression shifted from surprise to concern, his brow furrowing slightly.

They moved to a more secluded corner of the courtyard, and Baela, Addam, and I exchanged curious glances. There was a sense that something significant was transpiring, something beyond the scope of our understanding.

As we watched from a distance, Daemon and Ulf engaged in a private conversation, their voices too low for us to hear the specifics. The tension in the air was palpable, and I wondered what could be the topic of their discussion.

Minutes passed, and it seemed like an eternity before they finally rejoined us. Ulf's countenance was a mix of emotions—pensive, yet with a glimmer of resolution. Daemon, on the other hand, exuded a sense of purpose, as if he had come to a decision of great importance.

"I guess I have to start packing ",Ulf said, his voice carrying a weight that hinted at the gravity of their conversation.

Daemon nodded, his eyes scanning our faces, each of us eager to understand the implications of their talk. "Indeed," he replied cryptically, his thoughts kept close to his chest.

"So, this is the girl who is going to be the next Jonquil Darke," Daemon said, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

His words caught me off guard, and I felt a rush of both excitement and trepidation.

"I... I don't know if I can live up to her legacy," I stammered, my cheeks flushing with a combination of humility and determination.

I looked to Ulf, who stood nearby, his expression one of silent approval. His training and guidance had been instrumental in shaping me into the person I had become.

"I have become stronger too," I interjected, eager to share my own progress and growth.

Daemon's grin widened, acknowledging my confidence. "I guess I have to take your word on that," he teased, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind my ear.

His touch sent a flutter through me, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest.

"And Ulf, your friends have come as well. I believe that you should go and greet them," Daemon said, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Ulf's eyes, which were downcast a moment ago, now shone brilliantly, reflecting surprise and delight at the unexpected news.

"My friends?" Ulf asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and excitement.

"Yes," Daemon replied, motioning toward the entrance of the courtyard. "They arrived not too long ago. It seems they couldn't wait to see you."

With a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, we all turned our attention to the entrance, where the sounds of laughter and camaraderie reached our ears. And there, standing by the gate, were familiar faces—companions from Ulf's past, people who had stood by his side through thick and thin.

Eager to reunite, Ulf wasted no time, and with a nod of gratitude to Daemon, he dashed towards his friends, his steps filled with the enthusiasm of a long-awaited reunion.

As we watched the heartfelt greetings and embraces, I couldn't help but smile. Ulf's friends were a testament to the profound impact he had on those around him. Their bond was more than just that of fellow warriors; it was one forged in shared trials and triumphs, a brotherhood that transcended time and distance.

"Ulf's presence brings light to every room he enters," I said, addressing Daemon as we observed the joyful scene. "He has a way of connecting with people, drawing out the best in them."

Daemon nodded, his gaze following Ulf as he laughed and clapped shoulders with his friends. "Indeed, he possesses a rare gift—a combination of strength and empathy. It's what makes him exceptional.

As dinner was served, we all gathered at the high table, an air of solemnity hanging over the usually lively atmosphere. The Sea Snake had decreed it a personal affairs dinner, and the gravity of the occasion was palpable.

As I glanced at her, I noticed a downcast look on her face, but it was tinged with acceptance.

"Grandmother, I will finally get to claim a dragon. Kepa said so himself," Rhaena declared, a spark of excitement evident in her voice.

Princess Rhaenys' face softened, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. She had always understood the deep connection between a Targaryen and their dragon, the profound bond that could shape destinies.

"And once I tame a dragon, I will take Ulf with me, and we will soar through the sky together," Rhaena continued, her eyes shining with unwavering determination.

But then, an unexpected silence fell over the room, like a heavy fog settling upon us. Confusion and concern danced in Rhaena's eyes, and slowly, realization dawned on me.

Something had happened.

"Princess," Ulf spoke softly, his voice carrying a weight of both sorrow and resignation.

Rhaena's gaze sharpened, her face darkening with a mix of worry and determination. "What happened, Ulf? You never use my royal title unless something is amiss," she said, her voice tinged with urgency.

Ulf took a deep breath, his single eye filled with a mixture of respect and sadness. "It seems that I will have to leave Driftmark for some time," he admitted somberly.

The words hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the room.

"That is fine, Ulf," Rhaena said, her voice surprisingly calm. "You can come to Dragonstone with us. Baela, Kepa, and I are leaving on the morrow. You can continue to train us there."

"Princess," Ulf began softly, his gaze filled with a mix of gratitude and concern.

"I cannot," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

The news hit us like a blow, a wave of uncertainty crashing upon us. Ulf's absence from our side was not by choice but by forces beyond his control. The fat bitch of Dragonstone, as I privately referred to her, had imposed her will.

"It's because of that bitch, isn't it?" Rhaena's voice seethed with anger, her words cutting through the tense air. The room fell silent, the weight of her accusation hanging heavily upon us all. There was no need to name names; we all knew exactly who she was referring to.

Daemon's voice cut through the tension, his tone icy and commanding. "Control yourself, Rhaena," he admonished, his gaze fixated on her.

Rhaena's anger burned brightly, her frustration pouring forth. "First, she insults him for everything he has done for our family and for me, and now she is just sending him away," she exclaimed, her voice thick with bitterness.

"Calm down, sister," Baela interjected, her tone filled with a mixture of sadness and restraint.

"Calm down? What the hell is wrong with you, Baela?" Rhaena's anger turned towards her sister. "Why don't you say something? Stand up for him, for us!"

Baela looked down, tears welling up in her eyes. "I miss Dragonstone, Rhaena," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of vulnerability and longing. "I miss our family there."

Rhaena's anger intensified, her frustration boiling over. "What is wrong with you, Baela?" she shouted, her voice filled with accusation. "You just miss that strong bastard and nothing more!"

Daemon's voice thundered through the hall, his patience wearing thin. "Rhaena, shut up!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.

"I don't want to hear another word from your mouth, do you understand?" Daemon's words were laced with a stern finality that left no room for argument.

Silence descended upon the hall as the weight of the situation settled upon us. In the midst of the tension, Ulf found his voice, his tone measured and calm. "I have been given a task, Princess, and that is the reason why I have to leave," he explained, his voice tinged with regret.

"You're lying, Ulf!" Rhaena's voice cracked with disbelief and pain. "She just wants you gone," she accused, her words filled with raw emotion.

"That is not true," Ulf replied softly, his gaze unwavering.

Understanding slowly washed over Rhaena's face as she stared at Ulf, her one remaining eye filled with a mixture of hurt and realization. She reached up and removed her eyepatch, revealing the scar that marked her, both physically and emotionally.

"Just say it. How I am a monster," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I disgust you, don't I?" Her voice trembled as she confronted her own self-perception.

"Rhaena," Ulf spoke softly, his voice filled with empathy and compassion, but before he could say more, Rhaena abruptly turned and left the hall, her footsteps echoing through the silence.

As Ulf prepared to depart, I couldn't help but feel a profound mixture of emotions. Gratitude, admiration, and sadness swirled within me as I stood there, watching him with misty eyes. He had been more than just a mentor; he had become a dear friend, a guiding light in our journey to greatness.

"Continue practicing, Nettles," Ulf said with a gentle smile, his eyes locking with mine.

Without a second thought, I pulled him into a tight hug, trying to convey the depth of my emotions. "Thank you for everything that you have done for me," I said sincerely, my voice choked with emotion.

He chuckled lightly, his deep laughter resonating in my ears. "If I die, I'll make sure to come back so you can kill me again," he teased, the warmth of his humor calming my heart.

"I am sorry, Ulf," Baela said softly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Ulf bent down and enveloped her in a comforting embrace, offering her solace in the face of their imminent parting. "I want you to concentrate on your studies, Baela," he said gently, concern evident in his voice.

He then had one more important request for her. "Take care of Rhaena. She is your younger sister. Can you do that for me?" he asked, his voice filled with sincerity.

Baela's determination shone brightly in her eyes as she nodded. "I will," she replied with unwavering resolve.

Ulf affectionately ruffled her hair, acknowledging her promise. "Thank you for everything that you both have done for me," he expressed, turning to face the Sea Snake and his wife.

"You take care, you understand me?" Princess Rhaenys said, her voice filled with maternal concern as she gently caressed his face.

"I will," Ulf responded, his unwavering loyalty evident in his eyes.

And then, it was time for him to stand before Daemon.

"White Knight," Daemon spoke, a touch of emotion in his voice.

"Rogue Prince," Ulf replied, their titles a testament to the bond between a prince and his knight.

They embraced, a gesture that conveyed more than words ever could. "Ulf, I am proud of you for everything you have accomplished. You surpassed my expectations, and I can proudly say that training you to be a knight was one of the best things I have done in my life," Daemon said, his emotions raw and genuine.

"Thank you for what you did for me since the start, Prince Daemon," Ulf replied with humility and gratitude.

"Next time we meet, I will tell you the truth," Daemon added cryptically, surprising Ulf.

"Very well, my prince," Ulf responded, his curiosity piqued.As Ulf finally boarded the trading cog that would take him to the Vale, Addam waved his arms in goodbye. My heart ached with the knowledge that our time with Ulf had come to an end, at least for now.

As the trading cog sailed away, leaving Driftmark behind, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the receding shore. A profound sense of loss and longing filled my heart as I watched Ulf become a mere speck on the horizon. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, I turned to look behind, and there she was—the figure of a young girl with silver hair, standing at the edge of the cliff, gazing towards the departing ship. It was Rhaena, her eyes locked onto Ulf with a mix of emotions that mirrored my own.

The wind played with her silver locks, her face a canvas of emotions. I could see the pain of separation etched on her features, the realization that Ulf's departure meant a void in her life—a void that couldn't be easily filled. He had been her rock, her mentor, and the one who understood her like no other.

As Ulf's departure left a void in our lives, I couldn't help but feel worried about Rhaena. The concern weighed heavily on my heart, especially with the memory of the swirling darkness I had seen in her eye.