'You should only see the curtains twice during a show. Bar any intermission, of course.
I envy all who don't know this fact.'
-From 'The Later Musings of Rhaenar ITargaryen' by Brien Flowers et al.
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"I'm sorry to see you go, my friend."
"And I, you."
The two sat at Dragonstone's eastern shore, legs dangling from the pier as they shared a bottle.
Rhaenar wiped the spiced rum from his lips. "In that case, stay a while longer."
Xhadho shook his head.
"Afraid not. A storm comes. If I don't leave now, I won't make it in time for the Titty Festival!"
Rhaenar glanced at the grey, ashen sky, seeing no sign of such weather.
"You can tell?"
"Of course. Any captain worth his breeches can tell. I can taste the tempest in the air. Ask Lord Corlys, he'd know."
"Taken a liking to him, haven't you? Fair enough." Rhaenar made no effort to hide the disappointment in his voice. "I shall delay you no longer."
He stood and motioned to the troops waiting nearby. They lugged a large chest over.
"Before you go," Rhaenar said, unlocking the chest. "A token to remember us by."
Xhadho's eyes widened at the contents. His crew watched from the deck of the swan ship, baited with curiosity over what could make their captain speechless.
Then they saw it. In Xhadho's trembling hands was a bow as black as ebony—curved and monstrous, with nasty edges. Like some kind of digit hacked off a monster of horrific legend.
Rhaenar ignored his shock, "We're not sure why the bones came out black. The maesters think it was the Cannibal's iron rich diet. I think it's because we burned him, as per our custom. In any case, this is the first newly made dragon bow in generations. I want you to have it, Xhadho."
The Summer Island captain searched for the right words. He couldn't accept such a gift. The absurd generosity of it all — there had to be a reason. And then it hit him.
"My friend," Xhadho stammered, "I've told you before: no outsider may look upon the Talking Trees of my homeland and know our history. I cannot promise this."
Rhaenar waved a tired hand, his face hardening with insult.
"I'm over that now. Plans change. But should I ever be fortunate enough to see your shores, at least a token of Dragonstone will have come before me. Don't look at me like that, Xhadho. You will take it."
That was the end of the matter. Xhadho, after a long pause, unslung his goldenheart bow and handed it to Rhaenar.
"Then I want you to have this."
His crew gasped. The captain never parted with that bow. He even took it into orgies. Who knows how many times it rubbed a member and enticed moans of delight...
Rhaenar accepted it with gratitude.
"You honor me. Now, you best be off."
The crew waved and hollered, "Goodbye, Prince Rhaenar! We'll miss you!"
Xhadho nodded, but before he could take that first step, a gnawing feeling gripped his stomach.
During his stay, he'd seen an interesting dark side to the prince — a side he'd known was there but hadn't expected to have grown so pronounced.
The gambling, the black-sailed ships, the underworld dealings a prince should never touch…
"What will you do now?"
"My mother's dead," Rhaenar replied flatly, as if it explained everything. "Nothing shackles me now."
The thought sent a chill through Xhadho, and in that moment, he was glad to gaze up at the banner of the three-headed dragon and recognize it as an ally.
At that moment, a screech pierced the air, and a golden speck of wings appeared against the backdrop of the grey sun.
"The King must have finally sent a formal envoy," Xhadho said.
"No," Rhaenar replied, smiling. "That would be my sister."
.
..
…
..
.
Rhaenyra blitzed through the sky, faster than she ever thought possible.
After years of watching her brother practice day after day, inching ever closer to a new best record, the trip to Dragonstone had always taken at least two hours at full speed.
Rhaenyra hadn't yet reached that mark, but she was damn close, faster than any attempt she'd made before.
As the island came into view, she was struck by the scale of activity below. Columns of men marched — or rather, patrolled — along the shores. Watchtowers dotted the land. A fleet of ships lined newly built docks. To the east, a grid of construction stretched, men hauling timber to and fro. Beyond the grid, a village of tents sprouted, and children played amidst the bustle.
Rhaenyra had never seen such activity on her ancestral home. The progress should have made her feel proud. Instead, it only deepened her dread. Everything was moving too fast. She saw too many things that would occupy her brother's attention.
Rhaenyra swooped down with haste, guiding Syrax into the natural caves that connected to the lair, which in turn led to the castle's underbelly. Here, the Targaryens kept their dragons in a more natural environment than the Dragonpit could provide.
As she dismounted, the bald monks of the Dragon Keepers moved in, attending to their duties and ushering Syrax to her quarters where food would be waiting.
Rhaenyra's feet hit the ground with a soft thud, and a familiar voice greeted her.
"Princess Rhaenyra," he said in High Valayrian, "Welcome home."
She turned, recognizing the high-ranking member of the ancient order.
"Zedd? What are you-?"
Now that she thought about it, Zedd wasn't there to help her saddle up back in King's Landing. The Dragonpit had felt emptier than usual — like only a skeleton crew remained.
"Shouldn't you be back home?"
"This is our home now," Zedd explained. "And since dragons will frequent here more often, we thought it best to move the majority of our order."
The Keepers were listening to Rhaenar? She never pondered the command structure of this Order until now.
"I'll remind you that my father still leads this family."
"Forgive us, Princess. Our place is where the dragons go. For now, that place is here. We can send more assistance back if need be—"
"No," she said. "Worry not. Walk with me."
They made their way through the castle.
"What's happening, Zedd?"
Zedd sighed. "Your guess is as good as mine, Princess. Shortly after the Queen's passing, Prince Rhaenar ordered to relocate. The troops were already here when we arrived."
She gulped. "War?"
"If it is, the other Keepers don't think so. They've been here a long time; this activity is no different from the usual war games and patrols. What's new is all the construction and the influx of people. The island is growing."
They entered the dining hall. A strange laughter filled the room. Two men giggled as they rolled a large wheel in from the kitchens. Cheese?
"George?" she called.
"P-P-Princess!" Gorgeous George stopped and beamed at her.
"What are you two doing?"
"Fixing up a snack," the companion, Chit, grinned. "And you?"
Seeing he wasn't needed, Zedd excused himself.
"I'm here to see my brother," Rhaenyra said.
"Join the club," Chit said. "The boss has been mighty busy lately."
She turned to George. "Doing what?"
George blushed under her gaze, caught between his loyalty and the kindness she always showed him.
"Uh…"
Chit saved him. "Fuck if I know. We just follow orders."
George flushed. "Chit! Watch your mouth in front of the P-P-P—"
Rhaenyra waved a finger. "Worry not. Just take me to my brother."
"The boss went out not long ago," Chit said. "Why don't we show you a room? Freshen up. Plenty of serving women around to draw a bath."
"Later," Rhaenyra said. There were games afoot here. Fine then. She sat at the head of the dining table and motioned for them to join her. They did.
"But first," she said, fixing her eyes on George — satisfied at the way the handsome man shuddered under her gaze — "you will tell me what is going on here."
Again, Chit stepped in. "Same shit as usual, truth be. Only our job's a lot harder with all the new arrivals. The boss brought in all sorts of folk, and we've bust our asses building ever since."
"It's true," George said proudly. "The P-P-Prince tasked me with… what did say?"
"Quality control," Chit supplied.
"That! All sorts of lumber coming in. What, with all the homes to build and all. I've had to sign off on every delivery. Can't even read, and they've got me signing paper! Could be selling off my own mother for all I know!"
"That big bitch?" Chit laughed, "As if."
Rhaenyra's mind reeled. Chit noticed and filled the silence.
"All I know is the troops 'been earning their keep. The boss wants to turn the island into a hub, or whatever you highborn call it. In three moons we expect merchants from all over. Not looking forward to that. Bunch of gold-hungry cunts."
This explained why so many artisans had left King's Landing by ship. She breathed a small sigh of relief; for now, Rhaenar seemed focused on building Dragonstone's infrastructure. He can still come back. They could still...
Anxiety gnawed. Rhaenar was restless, always climbing higher. Even if his goal was only to turn Dragonstone into a rival port to spite their father, there had to be more behind it.
She cursed her inexperience. It fit too well. With Theodore Reyne in his ear, of course Rhaenar would think about coin, if he was truly distancing himself from the Crown.
She needed to the intentions from his own mouth. The weight of it all suddenly pressed down on her, and Chit's earlier offer became tempting.
"On second thought," she said, rising. "Show me to my room. And send word to my brother immediately."
Chit gave a crooked grin. "As you say, Princess."