Rhaegar sensed a wondrous power; truth be told, he rather liked Barristan.
Barristan was brave and clever, and he guarded his vows with utter sincerity.
He was no hypocritical White Knight; for a White Knight, the hardest foe to conquer is desire itself.
Some White Knights break their oaths to keep women—or men—on the side; others let themselves be used as pawns by greater powers. Barristan truly renounced lust and ambition, remaining faithful to his knightly vows.
Yet Barristan had no sense of fun—what people call a stick-in-the-mud. He might have many followers, but he had few friends.
Still, to be guarded by so great a knight was Rhaegar's honor. The man was a living legend of the age, as though haloed in light.
"Ser Barristan will defend you with his life, Prince Rhaegar," said Ser Barristan, gazing at the prince with fondness. He had forsaken earthly passions; now, protecting a dragon's son, he felt this was fate.
"The honor is mine, ser!" Rhaegar replied. He had many tutors—history, music, literature, deportment.
But those were the simple, basic lessons; the two who spent the most time with him were his combat instructors.
Fearless Barristan, and Sersa Wul of Braavos. Perhaps there was also a third teacher hidden in history's dust—the Shadow of Lys.
"Sersa Wul, of Braavos."
"Barristan Selmy, of Harvest Hall."
Barristan and Sersa sized each other up—two men whose temperaments and origins could not be more different.
Rhaegar watched them, feeling they truly embodied two separate worlds.
Barristan was heir to Harvest Hall, a landed knight; Sersa was a landless bladesman roaming Braavos.
Barristan wore the white plate of a Kingsguard and favored heavy horse and long lance; Sersa dressed in drab browns, cared little for appearances, and loved the Water Dance.
More importantly, Barristan was strict, while Sersa was carefree and fond of wine.
"I sense the will of fire in you, ser. We seem engaged in a grand experiment—fire and water dancing together for the prince," Sersa told Barristan.
"In Westeros, only fire dances," Ser Barristan snorted; he considered the Water Dancer's craft barely respectable.
Sersa merely laughed and let the matter drop.
Sometimes Rhaegar dined with his grandparents or parents; sometimes he insisted on eating with Barristan and Sersa. Though unconventional, King Jaehaerys II agreed at the prince's request. Prince Aerys consented reluctantly; Queen Rhaella heartily approved, calling it a fine way to nurture the boy's warmth. She did not want her son tainted by Summer Hall's melancholy.
Even Barristan marveled at Prince Rhaegar's hunger for learning.
"The prince drinks knowledge like a sponge—music, martial skills, history, anything intriguing. His gifts and energy outstrip other children; he is precocious and keen, especially in music and arms. I do not doubt that, at his birth, the queen swallowed books and candles, a lion's heart, and a minstrel's strings," Ser Barristan wrote to kin.
At supper Queen Rhaella sent a flagon of fine Arbor red.
Bound by his White Knight vows, Ser Barristan refused drink; the wine thus fell to Sersa, who fell in love with it at first taste. A good drink, it let him forget life's pain for a while.
"Mate, care for a cup?" Sersa asked, raising his goblet toward Barristan.
"Wine is a sin," Ser Barristan murmured, shaking his head.
"What a dull fellow," Sersa sighed, drinking alone. The liquor burned throat and stomach, and seemed to set his memories aflame.
Rhaegar watched the pair with interest; they made an amusing team. Though Ser Barristan disapproved of Sersa's ways, he respected the bravo's character—loving wine and cats, never pinching maids or hiring cheap whores. In short, the man cared only for swordplay and drink.
But when Sersa drank too much, he sang old Braavosi ballads.
"Fine wine—it lets a man forget the world's woes," Sersa declared.
Then he spoke of a memory.
"Your Highness, a Braavosi Courtesan—the Black Pearl—is kin of yours. Legend says she and your forebear King Aegon IV had issue," Sersa told Rhaegar.
Braavosi Courtesans are famed the world over; each keeps her own barge and retinue. Merchants, nobles, and assassins adore them—perhaps adoring not the women but the glory they bestow.
Courtesans are schooled in music, poetry, dance, literature—high-tier companions, refined for years. The most celebrated of them is called the Black Pearl.
Rhaegar knew it was true. If any king scattered dragonseed most freely, it was the sires of House Blackfyre. His passions burned so hot that even Braavos felt their warmth; for the continuation of House Targaryen, he surely did his part.
Rhaegar and Barristan listened without interrupting the bravo's tale.
Sersa Wul—a fine swordsman of Braavos.
Braavosi bravos are fierce, often fighting over Courtesans.
Duels and contests occur daily in Braavos.
Sersa, too, had loved a Courtesan—his love burned white-hot.
"Her name was Fala. No great Courtesan, but a girl who fled the pleasure houses—unknown. We danced beneath the moon, visited every Sealord's statue. Those happy days linger: perfume, love, and blood walked beside me."
"I won a hundred duels, yet I could not save her. A Water Dancer poisoned her to force me into grief-fueled fury. I slew him—his throat bore all my cuts. The Sealord heard my name, but I refused his summons."
"I will never return to Braavos; it is a city of sorrow."