In the woods bordering the clearing where Aegon and the others had spent the night, several figures drawn by the commotion witnessed it all as well.
At their head, Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, reined in his horse, his expression grave.
As commander of the White Cloaks, he had led men out to investigate signs of dangerous beasts during yesterday's hunt and missed everything that had happened in camp.
Yet when he brought his men back at dawn, he learned to his shock that the princess and prince were missing, and was ordered to lead another search deep into the forest-
In truth, Rhaenyra's disappearance with Aegon had only been discovered before last night's feast. Viserys, already in a foul mood because the White Hart had "turned into" a black stag, had nearly ordered the entire camp turned upside down.
Ser Harrold had no choice but to take the best men from yesterday's search for beasts, divide them into groups, and search through the night.
He was accompanied by his fellow Kingsguard, Ser Lorent Marbrand, the twin brothers Ser Alec Cargyll and Ser Erryk Cargyll, and seven or eight attendants.
They had searched all night, following the stream, the traces the princess and prince had carelessly left during their "escape," and the deliberate marks left by their white-cloaked brother, the young Ser Criston Cole.
At dawn, they faintly heard a waterfall and a stag's distinctly unusual call. They followed the sounds, and then-
They saw this scene.
There, in a woodland clearing bathed in dawn light.
The legendary White Hart was carrying a silver-haired, violet-eyed child on his back.
Beside the child crouched a wondrous golden dragon hatchling.
Behind the child, watching over him, stood Princess Rhaenyra, the "Realm's Delight" of the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.
And kneeling before the child was their young white-cloaked brother, Criston Cole.
Sunlight, a sacred stag, a dragon hatchling, a prince, a princess, a knight.
Together, they formed a tapestry depicting some ancient prophecy, so sacred and inviolable that one scarcely dared to breathe.
"Seven above..." Ser Lorent murmured, the first to trace the sign of the Seven-Pointed Star.
The twins Alec and Erryk exchanged a glance, then dismounted as one.
Neither spoke, but their movements matched: they knelt on one knee and bowed their heads in homage.
How could they not kneel before a sight so sacred?
The remaining attendants exchanged looks, then knelt one after another.
They understood little of lofty omens and symbols, but the sight before them was so overwhelming that their knees bent instinctively.
Only Ser Harrold Westerling remained mounted at their head.
He stared at the child seated on the White Hart's back, at the crouching Gold Dragon, at that sacred tableau, his expression shifting.
As Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he had witnessed countless grand occasions.
In his youth, he had served King Jaehaerys and experienced the majesty of the long-lived king;
Later, he had witnessed Viserys's coronation and watched the new king ascend the Iron Throne;
He had attended countless tourneys and court ceremonies, and thought himself long since numb to the auspicious omens rumored to symbolize royal authority.
Yet now, an unfamiliar emotion rose within him.
It was not fear, not awe, not even loyalty-it was something more primal.
Deep in his blood, some ancient memory stirred, telling him:
The scene before him was more real than any coronation, closer to the very essence of kingship.
At last, he dismounted.
He knelt not on one knee, but on both, bowed his head, and laid his sword across the ground before him-
This was the posture a knight assumed only when swearing allegiance to a king.
Seeing the revered Lord Commander of the Kingsguard do so, the attendants bowed their heads even more respectfully.
Seated on the White Hart's back, Aegon felt the warmth of morning sunlight on his face and the sacred stag's steady breathing beneath him. Yet he could clearly sense the tangled emotions coming from Sunfyre beside him-jealousy, confusion, and a trace of... approval?
Then, deep within his consciousness, the long-dormant, still-locked system finally responded.
[Sacred creature contact detected...] [Analyzing...] [Creature confirmed: White stag of the Kingswood (kingly omen · true)] [Contact type: Voluntary recognition · bloodline verification · fate binding] [Calculating rewards...]
The system interface lit up, no longer the crude gray panel it had been before, but suffused with a faint golden glow.
The gray sections that had always displayed "Locked" began to flicker.
[Bloodline purity fluctuation...] [Current purity: 45% (+20%) → 49% (+24%)] [Notice: Only 1% remaining to unlock "Bloodline Evolution"] [Detecting Dragon Resonance...] [Current resonance: Basic (16%)] [Additional Dragon Resonance increase granted for Sunfyre's presence alongside the White Hart] [New progress: Basic (18%) (+2%)] [Unlocking new function...] ["Kingly omen" event completion detected. Special status awarded]
On the system panel, which still displayed "Locked," a new icon slowly lit up: a white antler surrounded by a golden halo.
[Status: White Hart's blessing] [Effects:] [1. Regal presence: Others will perceive your bearing as more befitting a king, making it easier to inspire awe and loyalty] [2. Natural attraction: Your mere presence will more readily attract neutral or friendly attention, increasing the likelihood of unexpected assistance] [3. Charisma boost: Increased success rate in interactions with key figures, making it easier to establish trust and emotional connections] [4. Glimmer of luck: Grants a slight luck bonus in dangerous or critical situations (uncontrollable, passive effect)] [Duration: Permanent (may be strengthened or weakened by special events)]
Aegon stared at the system panel, complicated emotions rising within him.
White Hart's blessing-
This was the first time the system had granted him such a concrete bonus affecting social interactions and fate.
The "Dragon Resonance" and "Bloodline Purity" previously displayed on the system panel had been mysterious, elusive internal enhancements. This status, however, could directly and clearly alter how others perceived him.
Regal presence, natural attraction, charisma boost, glimmer of luck.
Each seemed tailor-made for him-
To survive in this world, lay his plans, and change history, these were precisely what he needed most.
The White Hart shifted gently, as though reminding him that it was time. Aegon withdrew his attention from the system interface and looked around.
He saw Rhaenyra lean close and stroke his face, inexplicable, tangled tears in her eyes, yet a proud and relieved smile on her lips.
He saw Cole kneeling on one knee, his head slightly bowed, his posture devout.
He saw Ser Harrold Westerling and several Kingsguard kneeling on both knees at the edge of the clearing, with the attendants bowing in submission.
Then he saw Sunfyre still crouching beside him, golden eyes fixed on him, a soft rumble in the hatchling's throat, as though asking, Have you had enough fun yet?
Helplessly, he reached out and gently patted the White Hart's neck.
"Thank you," he whispered, so softly that only he could hear.
The White Hart seemed to understand. He gave a soft call, then slowly lowered himself, letting Aegon slide off his back.
Aegon's little feet touched the fallen leaves again before Rhaenyra gathered him into her arms, and he looked up at the stag.
The white stag held his gaze for a moment, something ancient and wise seeming to shine in his amber eyes.
Then he turned and stepped toward the depths of the forest, as though bidding farewell. His steps were light and silent, just as they had been when he arrived.
Sunlight spilled over his pure white back, illuminating him as he gradually disappeared among the shadows of the trees.
In that final glimpse, his crownlike antlers gleamed in the morning light, then vanished entirely into the dense woods.
Silence filled the clearing.
Rhaenyra was the first to recover. She set Aegon down, knelt before him, and cupped his little face, examining him carefully:
"Are you hurt? Does anything ache? Did he touch you?"
Aegon shook his head and wiped the tear tracks from her face with his little hand. "Sister... I'm all right."
Rhaenyra pulled him into a fierce embrace.
"You little rascal," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "You frightened me half to death.
"Don't ever do that again, do you hear me? No climbing onto things whenever you please, no more-"
"Princess."
Cole's voice interrupted her anxious scolding.
The young white-cloaked knight had risen and pointed toward the edge of the clearing. "Someone's coming."
Rhaenyra turned to see Ser Harrold Westerling, who had watched her grow up, approaching with several Kingsguard and attendants.
Harrold stopped ten paces away and took the lead in kneeling on one knee.
"Princess. Prince Aegon." His voice was steady, but his eyes held conflicting emotions. "We were ordered to search for you both. His Grace is very worried."
Rhaenyra looked helplessly at him, at the attendants still kneeling behind him, and at the lingering awe on their faces.
She knew what they had seen. She also knew what it meant, beyond the collapse of her escape plan...
"Rise, Ser Harrold," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "We're unharmed. We merely... came out to clear our heads and encountered a little mishap."
Harrold rose, his gaze sweeping across the clearing:
The boar's carcass, the dagger the king had given the princess now embedded in it, the embers of their overnight campfire, and... Sunfyre.
The Gold Dragon crouched nearby, golden eyes fixed on him with a hint of warning.
"We will escort you both back to camp," Harrold said in a tone that brooked no argument. "His Grace is very worried. He has not slept all night."
Rhaenyra nodded and picked up Aegon.
She walked toward the little white horse she had "borrowed" before fleeing-miraculously, it had not gone far amid last night's chaos and was grazing at the edge of the clearing.
As she passed Cole, she stopped.
"Ser Criston," she said softly, without looking at him. "Thank you."
Cole bowed slightly. "My honor, Princess."
Rhaenyra mounted with Aegon in her arms and followed Harrold's party back toward camp.
Sunfyre followed behind, the golden body, not yet enormous, weaving among the trees like a loyal guard.
Cole remained behind, clearing away the traces around them as he watched the party leave.
The sunlight grew brighter, driving away the last shadows among the trees. He looked down at his hands-they were still trembling slightly. Not from fear, but from the power of what he had witnessed.
The White Hart, the prince, the dragon, the princess.
He recalled the words of his oath: "I shall protect the royal family until death."
Once, those had merely been words in an oath. But now...
On the way back to camp, Aegon rested against Rhaenyra's shoulder, his eyes half closed.
The system panel still flickered deep within his consciousness, displaying the "White Hart's blessing" icon.
He could feel a subtle change-not in his body, but in... his presence.
When he looked at the attendants in their party, something new appeared in their answering gazes. It was not polite attention paid to a prince, but something deeper, more deliberate.
Regal presence... it's already taking effect.
Rhaenyra was quiet too. Her arms held Aegon more tightly than usual, but her movements were gentle.
After her outburst before dawn and that sacred moment in the morning, she too seemed changed.
The sharp, ever-taut anger had vanished, replaced by something deeper.
Aegon looked up at her and found her looking down at him.
"What is it?" she asked softly.
"Sister... aren't you angry anymore?" Aegon asked.
Rhaenyra was silent for a few seconds, then gave a small nod.
"Not anymore," she said, watching the sunlight filtering through the trees ahead. "At least...
"Not as angry. What you said last night, and the White Hart... helped me understand a few things."
"What things?"
Rhaenyra did not answer immediately.
She looked at the boar's carcass the attendants had prepared behind her, at the camp's cooking smoke growing clearer in the distance, at the banners flying above it, and at the world she was about to return to-
That world of politics, schemes, marriage, and succession.
"Perhaps," she said at last, "some things cannot be changed. My position, my responsibilities, everything I must face. But some things..."
She lowered her head and gently rested her forehead against Aegon's. "Some things we can choose.
"For instance, I will protect you, and you will protect me. We will always be together."
Aegon reached up with his little hand and touched her face.
"Always together," he repeated.
Rhaenyra smiled.
It was a genuine smile, not the courtly mask she had worn while dealing with the nobles in camp over the past few days, not a reluctant concession, but a warmth that came from her heart.
"Yes. Always together."
The party continued onward, Sunfyre following close behind, golden scales glittering in the sunlight.
In the distance, the camp's horns sounded to welcome the prince and princess home.
Deep in the forest, the white stag stood beside an ancient sacred stone, his amber eyes watching the direction in which they had gone.
Sunlight flowed over him, his pure white coat as sacred as snow.
Hoofprints glowed upon the sacred stone, like a prophecy, like a blessing, and like-
A witness.
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