Farewells and Departure

The matchmaking gathering at Storm's End ended more quietly than anyone had expected.

There were no arguments, no awkwardness, and no one even mentioned the candidates again.

At the banquet on the final evening, Duke Borros raised his cup in a toast and said, "As long as the princess enjoyed her time in the Stormlands." There was a relieved lightness in his voice.

Lady Elena sat beside him with a gracious smile, one hand resting on her swollen belly, occasionally leaning down to exchange a few whispered words with Laena.

The lords of the Stormlands sat in small groups, drinking and chatting. None spared Rhaenyra another glance-they had been watching her for days, and everything was perfectly clear.

The princess had no interest whatsoever in choosing a husband...

Rhaenyra sat in the seat of honor, holding her wine cup, her expression calm. Today, she neither pressed a hand to her forehead nor sighed. She simply sat quietly, occasionally exchanging a few words with Laena or glancing down at Aegon, who sat on Laena's lap.

Aegon behaved himself today-because he no longer needed to keep watch. From the first day to the last, not a single candidate from the Stormlands had caught Rhaenyra's eye, and none had required him to step in and "ruin things."

They had ruined their chances all by themselves.

Too arrogant, too false, too old, too young, too nervous, too earnest, or already in love with someone else.

Aegon ran through the list in his mind and reached a satisfied conclusion: it wasn't that Rhaenyra was too picky or unwilling to marry. The Stormlands simply couldn't produce anyone decent.

Of course, he couldn't say that aloud.

When the banquet ended, Laena left Rhaenyra's side, bent down, and lifted Aegon out of his chair.

Partings always came when one least expected them.

Laena stood beneath the entrance to Storm's End. The sea breeze blew her long silver-gold hair across her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear as casually as if she were standing in her own courtyard.

Vhagar lay on the distant beach, her dark green scales gleaming like tarnished copper in the morning light. Her enormous head rested on her foreclaws, her amber eyes half closed, like a lazy old cat.

"Leaving tomorrow?" she asked.

Rhaenyra nodded. "The fleet is ready to return to King's Landing ahead of us. We'll travel overland next, first to Harvest Hall, then board ships on the Shipwright's River. Once we reach the Reach and the Westerlands, the fleet will sail ahead from King's Landing to wait for us in the Riverlands."

"Overland?" Laena raised an eyebrow. "You're not sailing around Dorne straight to the Reach?"

"They're still fighting in the Stepstones, after all..." Rhaenyra lowered her voice. "Ser Tyland says Dornish and Triarchy ships have been especially active lately. Whether we pass through the Stepstones or sail around the coast of Dorne through the Dornish Sea, traveling by sea isn't safe."

Laena fell silent for a moment. Of course she knew. Her father, Corlys Velaryon, and her younger brother, Laenor, were both in the Stepstones at that very moment.

Her dragon, Vhagar, still lay on the beach below Storm's End, while her family fought on a battlefield a thousand miles away.

She said nothing, merely shifting Aegon higher in her arms so he could sit more securely.

"What about you?" Rhaenyra asked. "Are you staying at Storm's End?"

"For a few more days," Laena said. "My cousin Borros still has some matters to discuss with me-about the Stepstones. He's the Duke of the Stormlands, after all, and the Stepstones are something of a gateway to the islands off their southeastern coast. With everything happening in the Narrow Sea, he can't just ignore it."

She paused and glanced at Rhaenyra. "Besides, I still need to lobby for more aid and reinforcements for my father and brother. No matter how well your uncle Daemon and our House Velaryon fleet fight, they still need allies. Your father issued his proclamation, but permission and a call to arms alone are little more than a drop in the ocean."

Rhaenyra did not press her. She simply stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Laena-and Aegon along with her.

Laena froze for a moment, then smiled. Freeing one hand, she patted Rhaenyra's back. "What's this? It's not as if we'll never see each other again."

"I know," Rhaenyra said, her voice muffled against Laena's shoulder. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

Rhaenyra did not finish. She only hugged her tighter and buried her face in the crook of Laena's shoulder. Squeezed between them, Aegon felt like a piece of bread being squashed. But he did not struggle. He rested quietly against them, listening to the two older girls talk. Laena's arm encircled him and Rhaenyra, her fingers patting Rhaenyra's back twice, gently, as if soothing a child.

"All right," she said, releasing her. "Don't start crying. You're the heir to the Iron Throne. What would these old-fashioned Stormlands lords think if they saw you in tears?"

Rhaenyra lifted her head. Her eyes were indeed red, but she had not cried. She glared at Laena and snatched Aegon from her arms. "I'm not crying."

"Of course you're not." Laena smiled. "You've just got sand in your eyes. We all know how windy Storm's End is."

Holding Aegon, Rhaenyra stood there looking at Laena. Laena looked back. The two women held each other's gaze for a few seconds, then laughed at the same time. Caught between them, Aegon felt his sister's laughter rumble through her chest, making his back tingle. He looked up at Laena, and she lowered her head and winked at him.

"Take good care of your sister on the road," she said.

Aegon nodded slightly, but after laughing, Rhaenyra was already on the verge of shedding tears.

So Laena turned back to Rhaenyra, who was working herself up again, and her smile deepened. "Rhaenyra, if you're going to miss me so much, why not leave little Aegon with me? Let us grow a little closer-after all, he might be my little betrothed one day."

Rhaenyra's face darkened instantly. She clutched Aegon so quickly that he felt as though he had just been seized back from someone. "Don't even think about it," she said, her voice as cold as the winter sea wind at Storm's End.

Laena doubled over with laughter. "I knew it." She reached out and pinched Aegon's cheek one last time. "Go on. You have a journey ahead of you tomorrow. Get to bed early."

"Actually, trading a betrothal for the king's wholehearted support wouldn't be so bad." She turned and walked into the shadows of the corridor. But those final words were so faint that the night's wind swallowed them completely. Before Rhaenyra or Aegon could make them out, she had vanished, leaving only her silver-gold braid swaying in the candlelight like a fish swimming into the deep sea.

Rhaenyra stood where she was, watching Laena's figure disappear at the end of the corridor. In her arms, Aegon felt her hold tighten a little.

"Sister?" he called softly.

Rhaenyra looked down at him. "Hmm?"

"Laena will be all right."

Rhaenyra did not answer. She simply held him and turned toward her room. The corridor was long, and candles flickered on wall sconces, casting their overlapping shadows, one large and one small, onto the stone walls. Wind slipped through the gaps in the stone windows, carrying the salt of the sea and the low, distant echo of Vhagar's breathing.

Early the next morning, the harbor at Storm's End was even busier than it had been when they arrived.

The fleet was already unloading-not supplies, but luggage. For an overland journey, wagons needed to travel lighter than ships. Tyland Lannister stood beside the gangplank, clutching a newly drawn map as he confirmed the arrangements for the final leg of the voyage with the captain.

The Cargyll brothers were inspecting the carriages. Alec checked the wheel spokes for cracks, while Erryk tested how well a carriage absorbed jolts-he jumped into the compartment and stamped hard several times, making the floorboards thud.

"Not bad, actually," he said as he jumped down. "At least it won't shake the prince to pieces."

Larys Strong stood at the edge of the dock with his cane, his gray eyes fixed on the sea.

Floris stood beside him with a stack of blankets in her arms, directing the attendants as they packed them into a carriage.

Aegon's uncle, Garwin Hightower, was once again the last to come off the ship. He carried Aegon's packed luggage, and his face actually showed relief at finally being done with sailing.

The carriages were ready. They would travel overland from Storm's End to Harvest Hall, a decision Tyland Lannister had reached after consulting several Stormlands lords along the route.

The fighting in the Stepstones was fierce, and the fleets of the Triarchy and the Dornish prowled among those broken islands. Traveling by sea was too risky. From Storm's End, they would follow the inland roads southwest, passing through Harvest Hall to the Shipwright's River, then sail downstream and take the Mander River straight to Highgarden. This route avoided both the Stepstones and the Dornish sphere of influence.

Aegon was quite pleased with the decision. Avoiding the Stepstones and Dorne meant they would not stop at Oldtown to rest and resupply. And that meant he would not have to see his grandfather Otto, whom his father Viserys had "banished" back home.

Resting against Rhaenyra's shoulder, he watched the attendants move their luggage from the ships to the carriages. Sunfyre crouched at the rear of the convoy, his golden eyes following every chest carried past him, as though checking that no one was stealing anything.

Rhaenyra stood on the dock, holding Aegon and watching it all.

Today she wore riding clothes, her hair braided, and a longer dagger at her waist-she had given her old one to Aegon. This one was a new gift from her father Viserys before their departure, with a ruby set in its hilt.

"Sunfyre has to stay with the convoy." Rhaenyra looked down at Aegon, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're riding Syrax with me."

Aegon opened his mouth to say something, then swallowed the words when he saw Rhaenyra's expression. He had wanted to say he could ride Sunfyre himself, but her eyes told him the matter was not open for discussion.

"Then can I-" He tried to bargain for something else.

"No."

"...I haven't even said what."

"Whatever it is, no." Rhaenyra carried him toward Syrax. "That flight you took at Massey's Hook nearly stopped my heart. This time, you're staying safely in my arms. You're not going anywhere."

Syrax lay in the open ground outside the walls, her golden-yellow scales glittering in the sunlight.

When she saw Rhaenyra approach, she raised her head and gave a low rumble. Rhaenyra strapped Aegon in front of her, his legs dangling on either side and swinging back and forth. Sunfyre poked his head out from the convoy, watching him with a trace of reproach in his golden eyes.

"Be good," Aegon called to him.

Sunfyre withdrew his head and slapped his tail against the ground.

Secured in front of Rhaenyra, Aegon took one last look toward the beach. Vhagar still lay there like a sleeping mountain. Suddenly, he felt reluctant to leave. Not because of Vhagar, but because of her rider.

Laena stood beneath the gates of Storm's End, with Duke Borros and Lady Elena behind her. Today, she wore a sea-blue gown, her silver-gold hair loose over her shoulders rather than braided. The sea breeze lifted the strands, and she casually smoothed them back.

Rhaenyra walked over. "We're leaving."

"Mm." Laena nodded. "Be careful on the road."

"You too."

They looked at each other. This time, neither joked nor winked. Laena reached out, took Rhaenyra's hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Write to me when you reach Highgarden."

"I will."

Laena released her hand and looked down at Aegon. "You too, my little betrothed. Write to me when you reach Highgarden."

Aegon lifted his head from Rhaenyra's arms and said earnestly, "I will."

Laena smiled and ruffled his hair. "Then you'd better keep your word."

The convoy began to move.

One carriage after another rolled out of the harbor, their wheels rumbling over the stone paving.

The Cargyll brothers rode at the front, their white cloaks snapping in the sea breeze.

Tyland Lannister rode beside the second carriage, still clutching his map. Every so often, he looked up at the sky, then exchanged a few words with the lords traveling the same way.

Larys Strong sat in a carriage with his cane beside him, his gray eyes half closed as though he were dozing. Floris chatted with a maid in another carriage, her laughter drifting through the window.

Garwin rode at the very rear, his own luggage swaying where it was tied to his horse's back.

Dressed as she was, Rhaenyra naturally did not choose a carriage. Holding Aegon, she walked toward Syrax again.

Syrax rose, shook out her wings, and lowered her head. Rhaenyra swung onto her back and secured Aegon in front of her. Sunfyre flew over and crouched beside Syrax's feet, looking up at them with a plaintive rumble in his throat.

"Stay with the convoy," Rhaenyra said.

Sunfyre lowered his head, the tip of his tail sweeping back and forth across the ground like a large dog whose owner had left him at home.

Nestled in Rhaenyra's arms, Aegon looked at Sunfyre and felt a little sorry for him.

But he said nothing-he knew Rhaenyra would never let him ride Sunfyre alone, at least not in the Stormlands. The winds were too strong, the sea too close, and Sunfyre was still too small.

Syrax spread her wings and beat them twice, sending sand and dust swirling through the harbor. She rose into the air, swept over the walls of Storm's End, circled the castle once, then flew southwest.

Sunfyre crouched on the ground, looking up at Syrax's retreating form, and gave a long cry. The sound was clear and shrill, like a young bird left behind in its nest.

Laena stood before the gates, gazing up as Syrax became a tiny golden speck in the sky. She remained there for a long time, only turning back into the castle once that speck had vanished completely beyond the sea's horizon.