It had been barely a year since Rhaekar last found himself in the throne room, and yet here he was, once again, standing with many other lords and ladies in the presence of the new King of the Iron Throne. The banners bearing the red, three-headed dragon of House Targaryen had been torn down from the walls of the throne room, replaced instead with the golden serpent over the scarlet field of House Hammer. Hugh Hammer himself stood tall and broad shouldered in the middle of the room, and on his head was the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. The High Septon had already blessed him, and was turning to face those present.
“All hail King Hugh of the House Hammer, first of his name, king of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”
The words stung Rhaekar’s ears like bitter food in his mouth. He turned his head away, unable to gaze at the sight. While he could hear the words of the High Septon, and the murmurs of those around him, all his mind could focus on was the memory of his wife’s screams. Those horrible, terrible screams of agony as she saw her father, her stepmother, her sister, her cousins – all her kinsmen – either hanging from gallows or stuck atop poles. She had sobbed for much of the journey to Stokeworth, until she simply passed out in his arms. Albar and Andrian had gone with her once they acquired a wheel house, but those screams stayed with Rhaekar all the way back to King’s Landing. They echoed all the more within his head as he came across the “Dragon Forest” outside the Dragon’s Gate. Rhaenyra still hung above his head, suspended by the ropes, as he rode by.
Had Rhaenyra been a merciful queen? Rhaekar had to admit she had not always shown love for her subjects when it would have been more prudent to do so – the episode with the Bar Emmon boy especially came to mind. Some said she was trying to prevent the rebellion of the Lannisters, Fossaways, and Hightowers from spreading to other parts of the realm. Some said she was teaching those who wished to imitate the disloyalty of Hugh Hammer a lesson. Was this the case? If so, did this permit Hugh Hammer the right to commit such murder against House Targaryen? Maelor, the son of Aegon the Usurper… he had not even begun his schooling when Hugh ordered him hung. Not even Rhaenyra had shown such cruelty to the Usurper’s line. With such a man as this, who would be spared? Was anyone safe within the six kingdoms with this man sitting upon the highest authority in the land?
It was not to end this way, Rhaekar thought.
His mind went back to that moment on the cliffs of Duskendale, watching the approaching storm with Albar. The Unicorn Prince hadn’t raised his banners to join Rhaenyra’s cause only to see her hung like a common thief outside King’s Landing. Had he fought and served for the Iron Throne only to see it taken by a usurper with a lust for blood and power? Part of him felt like he should have fought harder outside King’s Landing, when they faced the Hammer’s host, but the other part of him knew that the battle was decided by forces far beyond his control. Everything had been going so well: Aegon and Rhaenyra were there with their dragons; their levies outnumbered the enemy two-to-one – and then four-to-one when further reinforcements from the west came. Then Aegon and Rhaenyra had been defeated in battle by Hugh and Vermithor, and suddenly everything turned around. The ranks of the loyalist soldiers melted away to both enemy assault and fire. The Dance of the Dragons had begun as a conflict within House Targaryen, and had ended with a usurper on the throne, and the near destruction of the entire House Targaryen.
The House of Targaryen had nearly been obliterated. All were dead… except, of course, for his wife.
When the coronation was done, the attendants were dismissed, to do whatever they desired before the feast was to commence. There was expected to be a sixty course meal, which would make it much more impressive than the feast Rhaenyra had held after her own coronation. Rhaekar did not intend to eat too much – perhaps just enough to enjoy the liquor and not feel nauseous. Every time he thought of food, he was reminded of the half-eaten corpses hanging outside the Dragon’s Gate, and immediately lost his appetite. Therefore, he decided to leave the throne room for now and head to the godswood where he would most likely have some privacy.
“Good to see your dragon arse alive and well.”
Rhaekar paused in mid-step. The voice had come from his side. Even before turning around, he recognized the voice – his old friend Lord Alliser Langward. He turned, and saw the older man standing there in the same armor he had gone in battle with. It didn’t even look clean: mud was still dry on his boots, with traces of it running up his greaves. Rhaekar grinned. “Good to see Langward Hall will not have to change its name. Well met, Lord Alliser.”
Alliser grinned, then looked down. “Your wife is well?”
“As well as she can be.”
Given the circumstances, Rhaekar wished to add, though he held his tongue.
Alliser nodded. His lips pursed and relaxed a few times, as if there was something he wanted to say. Finally he brought his lips into his mouth, then said, “I am happy to hear it. See you in the ballroom when we stuff our faces. Maybe even in the privy, when we shite ourselves raw.” With that, he turned and stepped away.
“Lord Rhaekar.”
Now a voice from behind. Rhaekar turned around, and saw Arryk Cargyll, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, standing there. His armor was obviously freshly polished that morning, for it shone in the light peering through the windows in a majestic, near mirror-like state. It was a strong contrast to what had just been seen with Lord Alliser. When the Unicorn Prince made visual contact with him, Arryk bowed low. “His majesty wishes to have a private word with you.”
This cannot lead to anything good, Rhaekar thought. Nonetheless, he forced a smile. “I am at his majesty’s beck and call. Tell me where he is.”
“He is behind the throne, my lord.” Arryk took a step back, then bowed low again.
Hiding behind his power, came words in Rhaekar’s mind. It seemed quite fitting, given how Hugh Hammer had come to power. He gave the Lord Commander a courteous nod, then stepped past him to head towards the Iron Throne. Already most of the coronation attendants were leaving, and only a few stayed behind. Even then, most of those were heading towards the door, pausing only to have a chat, or to discuss rumors and recent events elsewhere. Rhaekar bypassed everyone, and moved around the Iron Throne. He found the Hammer standing there, on the dais, looking at a sword he held in his hand. The steel glimmered brightly – almost magically – in the sunlight from the windows. Rhaekar paused momentarily upon catching sight of him: up close, the Hammer posed an impressive figure, being so tall and so muscular. One almost forgot about it looking at him from a distance, but up close like this, it became all the more obvious. The Hammer might as well have been fifty feet tall, for that was how minuscule Rhaekar felt at this very moment.
Hugh turned and saw him. He curled his lips across his face. “Unicorn Prince. There you are.”
“Lord Arryk sent for me,” Rhaekar said.
“Good, good. I knew he would.” Hugh turned his sword around and slipped it back into the sheath. It made a loud rubbing nose as the metal went in. “I am happy to see you came to the coronation. How does the crown look on me?”
Rhaekar forced another smile. “Marvelous, my lord.”
“It does, does it not? But let me cut through all the talk. You performed well in the war, and many speak highly of you. Even my wife Nettles speaks well of you.” Rhaekar was taken aback he did not refer to her as “the queen,” since she was such now, but he left it alone. “I wish to offer you the position of commander again. Do you want it?”
“Yes, your majesty. Though I am amazed, with your capability, that you need a commander at all.”
Hugh chuckled at that. “Indeed, I seem to have proven myself, have I not? Can you believe everyone thought I was done for? Idiots! Curse them all! I will see them all hang!”
“It seems many have already.” Rhaekar realized then he had said it a bit more accusingly than he meant to. His already pale face turned an even lighter hue as he awaited the Hammer’s response.
Instead of being upset, the Hammer just smiled. Two rows of teeth were on full display. “The Dragon Forest. That is what you are referring to, are you not? The Dragon Forest. Many have asked about it. Many did not wish for me to do it. Queen Maegor’s council did not want me to do it, of course – but the Iron Throne is ruled by cruelty, not by love. Surely you understand that?”
All too well, Rhaekar thought. He remembered the conversation he had held with Andrian quite some time ago, shortly before the siege of King’s Landing. He had said the cruelest or harshest rulers were often necessary during the cruelest and harshest times of a nation’s history. Nonetheless, what Hugh had done had gone well beyond limits. Even Rhaenyra had not been this cruel. Aegon the Usurper had been merely gelded; he was still permitted to serve the court, let alone live. His family had been permitted to exist as well. She was the sort of leadership that Westeros could have permitted – instead, she had been overthrown, and treated like a dog carcass hung in a butcher’s shop.
Sensing Rhaekar’s uneasiness, the Hammer smiled even wider. A chuckle left his throat. “Do you know what gave that dragon slut legitimacy to take the throne? It was not her father’s desires. If the king had nominated some scullery maid to be crowned after his death, do you think the people would go along with it? If she was cheated, do you think the scullery maid could raise banners and fly about on a giant lizard to kill all who oppose her? Of course not. She would have been tossed aside. But Rhaenyra… Rhaenyra was different. Rhaenyra had dragons, and with dragons she conquered. What equal right do I have to the throne? A dragon. A dragon that proved itself better than all the rest. With a dragon, I took what I wanted. It destroyed all other dragons that opposed it. As did its rider. As did its rider...”
Rhaekar forced a smile for the third time that day. “Very good, your majesty.”
The Hammer raised an eyebrow. “Do you doubt me, Unicorn? You saw me at King’s Landing twice, and how I handled myself. You saw how Vermithor destroyed my enemies. With my dragon and my skill I took down Aegon the Usurper – twice! With my dragon I took down his slut Heleana, and then I took down his kinswoman Rhaenyra. All who opposed me were tossed to the ground! It was I who took King’s Landing for the queen, and then I went and took it for myself. Now I have made certain there will not be any threat to my reign. All Targaryens have been taken care of. All those with claims to this throne have been dealt with. All except...” Hugh lifted his chin, gazing at Rhaekar. The Valyrian turned his eyes away, staring at the stone of the floor. Hugh laughed again. “All except… your wife.”
Rhaekar’s eyes remained on the floor. “Yes, your majesty.”
Hugh chuckled still. “Do you love her?”
“As much as any lord loves his lady, your majesty.”
“But do you
love her?”
“Your majesty, we are not lovers to some day be found in the annals of song, but neither do we despise one another.”
“I see.” Hugh reached up with one of his immense hands and began to stroke his chin. “I understand that she has a dragon on the way, already prepared to be born.”
Rhaekar nodded, but kept his gaze still averted. “Yes, your majesty. She was given another egg some time ago as a gift, after her last dragon disappeared.”
“Oh no,” said the Hammer. That teeth-bearing smile was still on his face. “I mean the child in her belly.”
In an instant, the blood in Rhaekar’s veins went dead cold. He lifted his hand up towards the hilt of his sword. The palm stopped a few inches from it. His fingers curled into a fist, opened, then curled again. After a moment’s hesitation, he lowered his hand back down to his side.
“I would like to make you commander, Unicorn,” Hugh said. He turned and walked over to the Iron Throne. Rhaekar shifted his violet eyes, and saw the exposed part of Hugh’s neck, just above the collar of his chest piece. The lord’s feet were on the verge of moving to spring towards it, but he kept them firmly planted. Hugh turned and plopped himself down onto the throne, then leaned back. He brought his hands together, pressing them together at the knuckles. “I will send you away to take care of that Hightower rebellion. Once that is done, if you are willing, I will make you my marshal. My marshal, Unicorn. The commander of all armies in the realm. How does that sound to your ears?”
Rhaekar’s lips twitched, then curled on one side into a smile. “It sounds delightful, your majesty. I would be honored to take the position.”
“It will be yours… but first, you must think about where your loyalties lie.” Hugh smirked again. “Especially if it is towards the throne, or to your blood.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think I will go into specifics now?” Hugh asked. He snarled at that. “Summon your wife and have her brought here, so that I may be hosts to all of you. If you do this, then I will know where your loyalties lie. You must ask yourself whether they lie with the Dragon, or with the Hammer.”
One of Rhaekar’s violet eyes twitched. “I will think on it, your majesty.”
“Good. Now go. The feast will begin shortly.”
Rhaekar bowed low. He stood up, turned sharply, and headed towards the door.
“Oh, and Unicorn?”
Rhaekar paused at the door and turned again to face the Iron Throne.
Hugh’s smile turned into a large grin, two sets of teeth on display. The canines seemed especially sharper than normal. “Do not forget that unicorns hang and feed carrion just as well as dragons.”
Rhaekar stood up tall.
A unicorn may look majestic... He opened his mouth to speak his motto, then stopped. He kept the rest to himself.
...but it still has a horn. Instead, he said aloud, “A good reality to ponder, your majesty. I will see you at the feast.” He bowed again, then left.
As he made his way down the lonely halls outside the throne room, towards the Queen’s Ballroom, Rhaekar’s mind raced with all the things that had just happened. The king, he now knew, had his eyes set on Rhaena. He had managed to kill off every member of House Targaryen… except Rhaena. She was the sole surviving member of Aegon the Conqueror's line. If she could be killed off, then the line would be forgotten forever. Furthermore, he would not spare their child. The child… she was so close to pregnancy now. Rhaena said she had been praying for a daughter, while Andrian swore it would be a son, and Albar repeated over and over again that such guessing games were a waste of precious time and air. Either way, that was Rhaekar’s heir in her belly. Now the Hammer had his sights fixed on them, and was ready to bash in their skull as soon as they were out.
“Lord Rhaekar.”
Rhaekar paused and turned. Out from another hallway came the master of shadows himself: Larys Strong, the Lord of Harrenhal. He grinned at Rhaekar. “May I join you on your way?”
Rhaekar lowered his gaze. As the lord stepped towards him, a loud, steady
thunk-thunk-thunk followed his footsteps. One of his feet bore a large, thick boot. Rhaekar lifted his gaze back to Larys “Do you have something you wish to discuss?”
“Nonsense. I simply wish to accompany you to the feast. If we begin to discuss anything, well, who is to fault us for chatting like any two men might chat?”
He is lying to me, Rhaekar immediately thought. Still, given the conversation he had just had with the king, he felt much safer with company than being alone. How ironic that his feeling of safety came with the sovereign of all spies and agents across the six kingdoms? “Yes, you may join me. I could use some good conversation.”
Larys went beside Rhaekar, and continued the trek towards the Queen’s Ballroom with him. Given his foot, it was slow-going. “It is good to see you well. Lord Alliser Langward was asking about you before you returned.”
“I met him in the throne room. It was good to see him alive and well – I did not see him since the battle.”
“There are many who are lucky to be alive.” He glanced over his shoulder, then turned his face forward again. He spoke in a lower tone. “Including those on the small council.”
“Has Hugh threatened you?”
“Not me, no. He knows he could not. I know far too much about far too many people, and hence I am owed favors across the land. If my life ever came under threat, I know what strings to pull. Some others are not so lucky. I am certain you saw what happened to Lord Daemon?”
Rhaekar frowned. “Unfortunately.”
“It was not I who consented to the order, if you are curious about that,” Larys continued. “King Hugh gave the order unilaterally – and shortly after he had killed off the head of the gold cloaks and replaced him with one of his own.” Larys shook his head. “So much death these past few weeks. Hugh has dubbed Rhaenyra ‘Maegor with Teats,’ yet he is turning into more like Maegor than anyone I know.”
Rhaekar was not aware how extensively Hugh’s cruelty had extended beyond the House Targaryen. Now he truly wondered just why history had chosen to remove Rhaenyra from the Iron Throne. He recalled once lamenting her cruelty to House Bar Emmon – that action paled in comparison with what actions Hugh was committing within only a few weeks of rule. “It is unfortunate, yes.”
Larys turned his face to Rhaekar’s own. “I hope your wife is well?”
“Yes… under the circumstances. She knows what happened to her family. In fact, she saw their corpses as we were leaving the city.”
“Oh, I am most sorry,” Larys said, in a tone that suggested he was already aware of that. The
thunking under his cloak seemed to grow louder, so that Rhaekar could barely hear him as he spoke low. “I do not suppose the king has mentioned his… dislike for your wife?”
Was this where he was steering our conversation? “Yes. If I may be blunt, I believe he intends to have her killed.”
The
thunk sounds continued to vibrate off the walls of the hallway. “Yes, he spoke with me about it...”
Rhaekar froze in place. He snapped his eyes to Larys. “He
what?”
Larys grinned. “He spoke to me about it. As soon as she’s within the walls of the city, he intends to have her arrested, quartered, and murdered. If your child is not born by then, he will tear it from her belly and have it hang by the chord from her dangling body. If your child is already born, he intends to have it impaled alive by our best torturer. He wishes to hear it screaming for hours.”
Rhaekar suddenly realized just how hot it was under his clothes. His flesh felt like it was burning. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, and for a split second he imagined Hugh’s mangled corpse propped against the Iron Throne, the various sword points splitting his body apart.
“Calm,” came a soft voice from Larys. “Calm.”
Rhaekar let go of his sword hilt. He looked away.
“This will not be the only end of his cruelty. I fear he may be far crueler in the future.” Larys leaned forward. “Lord Rhaekar… are you aware who might take over should…” Larys looked away, considering his words a moment. “...anything unfortunate happen to King Hugh, as a result of his cruelty?”
Rhaekar shook his head. It still felt like fire was raging under his tunic.
Larys smiled more. “Why,
you would become Lord Protector.”
Rhaekar stopped in mid-step. “What?”
Larys motioned for him to continue walking, and Rhaekar listened. The
thumping continued. “Yes. That is how the succession law is to be carried out. Hugh has no heir, and I have a feeling Nettles is not sharing her bed with him very often these days. She thinks much higher of you than him. As do many people, because of your duty and martial ability. Should anything happen to King Hugh, you would become Lord Protector, and be expected to see that a proper heir comes to the throne. A council will have to be called, of course, and you will be overseeing it.”
Rhaekar sighed. “A lot of good that does my wife and heir at this moment.”
“Ah, but I was jumping ahead of myself.” Larys sniffed a moment, then began to step with his larger boot much harder. “You see, there are many who believe something… unfortunate might happen to King Hugh very soon.”
Rhaekar glanced Larys’s way again. “What are you implying?”
Larys gave a half-smile. “What am I implying? Lord Rhaekar, you have seen how ungracious his majesty can be. He has wiped out all of House Targaryen save your wife. He has wicked intentions for your wife and child. Who knows how many more wives and children he intends to kill off? Who knows how many more lords he will anger during his reign? If we believe the Dance of the Dragons was a violent war, we shall soon see blood the likes of which would make Maegor look like a Silent Sister. My point is, there are many, many lords and ladies within Westeros who would like to see Hugh perish. As the master of shadows, I know this.”
I am certain you do, Rhaekar thought. Larys was being clever, he had to hand it to him. Rhaekar was no master of intrigue, but neither was he stupid to affairs of court. What Larys was saying any fool with eyes could see. If Larys were accused of anything stemming from this conversation, he could defend himself as having plainly stated the truth. However, given the context of their conversation, it was quite clear, and blatantly obvious, what it was precisely that he was suggesting to the Unicorn Prince. “What do you wish me to do about this?”
“Well, Lord Rhaekar, you can think on that, and perhaps later on,” Larys adjusted his cloak, “you can tell me whether or not you wish to see King Hugh perish as well.”
With that, Larys suddenly picked up speed, and continued on towards the doors of the Queen’s Ballroom. He moved as if his large boot didn’t impede his movements at all.
Later that night, long after the feast, Rhaekar received a letter from the Maester’s Tower. A raven had arrived from Duskendale, addressed to Rhaekar, and coming from Maester Albar. It said that Rhaena had given birth: she had borne him a daughter. Albar reported that Rhaena and the baby were doing perfectly fine, and should both be in good health by the time he returned.
Rhaekar sighed.
When I return. When would that be? With the uprising from the Hightowers, and the possibility of more chaos coming to the Six Kingdoms due to Hugh Hammer’s treachery, when would Rhaekar find peace? All he wanted was to return home and see his baby daughter. She was his heir – he had received a female heir. Boy or girl, it mattered not; he could not wait to return home, take her in his arms, and introduce himself as her lord father. After he had taken a seat by the window, he found himself thinking about it more and more. Eventually exhaustion overtook him, and he fell asleep.
As he slumbered, he had a dream. In the dream, he was standing before a bright light. Before that light was a tall pole, and hanging from that pole was a standard bearing the familiar white unicorn over scarlet field. Out of the light came a woman of middle age and yet exquisite beauty. In the woman’s hands was a small baby, naked and covered in post-birth filth. It was easy to discern that this child was a girl, with white, curling hair sprouting from her soft head. The woman smiled at Rhaekar, and held the baby high above her…
Then, all at once, the vision changed. The banner no longer bore the white unicorn over crimson, but the golden serpent over red. The woman no longer held the baby – now it was a man in a dark cloak, with a blackened face that gave the subtle appearance of a skull. Behind the figure, all the light went out, and the entire scene was clothed in dim light. The figure held the baby up higher...then brought her down.
At once, the baby was impaled right onto a stake. Blood dripped down the sharpened wood. The child scrunched her face in agony. She screamed and wailed. Her little legs kicked. Her arms and hands thrashed about. Her tongue vibrated as her piercing shrieks broke through the sky. Below her was Rhaekar, helpless. He couldn’t move, as if he was held by invisible chains. He wanted to rush and save her. He wanted to pull her off. He wanted to kill the dark figure that had done this. He could do nothing but watch his own flesh and blood die a slow death. Tears burst from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks like a hard rain that had burst from the sky. His heart ached so badly he wished to die. Her arms and legs slowed. Rhaekar wanted to lift up his hands and gouge out his own eyes. He wanted to draw his sword and stab his chest. He couldn’t move. As the child’s arms, feet, and hands still, and her scream gurgled into nothing, her father had to watch it all…
Suddenly, the entire scene went black.
A moment later, light flowed onto the area around him, as if someone had just ignited a torch. Before him, Rhaekar saw an elderly woman, decked in a cloak and bearing a lantern that gave a soft, green glow. She studied him momentarily, then held the lantern closer towards his face. She pursed her lips for just a moment, and then at last spoke. “You must choose.”
“Choose what?” Rhaekar asked.
“You must choose,” she repeated.
Her bony, gnarled hand lifted up, and pointed to her side.
When Rhaekar turned, he saw a small cloth bearing his family standard lying on the ground. The white of the unicorn, however, was stained with blood. A tiny foot stuck out from the end of the banner. Over the body, a young woman Rhaekar did not recognize sat on her knees, weeping. Her hands covered her face, and her shoulders shook as she continued to cry. One of her hands reached down and gently planted itself against the infant figure covered by the banner, and then she hunched over and pressed her crying face against it.
From the shadows nearby came a tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing the armor of a knight. He had a sword which was red hot, as if taken straight from the anvil. The man turned it around, then plucked the sword into the ground. Then came another man, shorter but just as brawny, with a plain tunic and trousers, and a dark apron down his front. This one held up a hand, and on it was a crown. Rhaekar recognized this immediately: it was the crown worn by the sovereign who sat on the Iron Throne. The man placed the crown upon the hilt of the sword, letting it dangle.
Now the old woman pointed to her other side.
When Rhaekar turned, he saw a series of stakes rising up from the ground. Hanging from each one was a square piece of cloth bearing the standard for House Darklyn. A short distance from these banners lay a large dragon egg. It was scaled, with interchanging red and white plates. It shook and wiggled as it lay there. A crack at last appeared on the surface, and spread further. Finally, something sharp and black poked out, tearing through the shell of the egg. As it tore through more of the egg, it was revealed to be a short, black horn. As the shell broke from the top downward, a small, black beast emerged, with four hooves and a long snout. The creature toppled onto the ground, weak from exertion and moist with egg fluid. After taking several deep breaths, the black beast turned itself on its belly, then began to push up on its long, skinny legs. As it did, the moisture evaporated bit by bit, and the creature grew taller in stature. At long last, Rhaekar realized that the creature was a unicorn. The horn itself, which had been used to hatch it from its shell, was rising forth from its head, growing inch by inch as the creature itself matured by the second. Once the unicorn had become fully grown, it turned and looked at the Darklyn banners. It waved its horn. As soon as it did, several of the banners were lit aflame. One banner was sent spiraling into the sky, where it disappeared in the blackness. Another one was torn from the stake and flew away, only to burst into flames like its kin.
“Choose,” whispered the old lady.
Somehow the Unicorn Prince knew that he was being asked to choose not just between two visions, but two destinies. His eyes looked between the two, not able to discern what either of them meant. He did not want to cause the Darklyns any harm, if that was what the second vision meant, but at the same time… the sight of a deceased infant’s foot sticking out from under his own banner filled him with dread and exhaustion. The initial vision, of his child being murdered under orders from the Hammer, returned to him, and refilled his being with sadness. He knew at once what he had to pick. He turned and pointed to the second vision.
The old woman lowered her head, and the lantern began to dim. The lower and lower the light fell, the more darkness swirled about the woman and the scene entire. Soon, everything was black again.
And with that, Rhaekar found himself waking up by the window, his arm leaning against it. He looked out. It was still night, the skies of King’s Landing carpeted by stars. In his tunic, he could feel his heart racing, only gradually slowing down. When things settled, Rhaekar knew what he had to do. He stood and prepared to go to Lord Larys’s quarters to talk with him.
He would not see King Hugh take any more lives. Not while the Unicorn Prince still breathed.