"What should we do now?"
"Can't you see? His hair is white. He's definitely Targaryen..."
"Should we return him? I think it's too dangerous."
"Hmm... When did you become such a coward? If we keep him and ask for money... Blood of the Dragon, how much do you think they will give us?"
"Even so, it's dangerous. Sure, we might take the money, enough to live leisurely for the rest of our lives in Essos, but the risk is too great."
"I know... But it's worth it, isn't it?"
"Haaa... I suppose. Sooner or later we will be killed anyway, so... We might as well take the risk."
Two men in tattered clothes were talking with each other. The first was a gaunt man with a creepy smile, brown hair and brown eyes, his clothes were dirty, and he was holding an old sword with rust creeping along the blade.
The second was shorter but more muscular, with black hair and green eyes and dark circles beneath them. He seemed calmer and more composed, trying to make a rational choice, unlike his partner, who was blinded by greed.
As for Zalarys, tied and lying beside the campfire, had his eyes closed, listening to their conversation with curious expression.
Hmm... Looks like I've been kidnapped. He thought with a wry smile, wanting to shake his head in amusement but deciding against it so as not to alert them.
Now... How did I end up in this situation? They probably heard the screams of the beasts and came to investigate, then found me hanging from the cliff. That would make sense. And having realised I'm Targaryen, they want ransom in exchange for returning me.
Zalarys mused, cleaning his teeth with his tongue absentmindedly. To be honest, I'm not even that angry. In their place, I would probably have done the same. Without risk, what is life, after all? However, I still need to get back. And I have no desire to become famous as the prince who joined the hunt out of arrogance and ended up kidnapped. That would be embarrassing, ughh...
He opened his left eye slowly, observing them while tensing his muscles then relaxing to create small gaps, and began rotating his wrist slowly.
Hmm... This is exhausting. It isn't as easy as people describe... He thought, still rotating his wrist to loosen the knot. He had already been at it for half an hour. Escaping, as it turned out, wasn't as dramatic or cool as people made it sound. It was hard work, ans it required patience and perseverance.
Shit... He gritted his teeth, feeling a sharp pain from his twisted finger, but made no sound. His heart was beating wildly as he glanced at the bandits and let out a quiet breath of relief when he saw them butchering the bear and not paying attention to him.
Wait... That's mine, though... He thought, disheartened, exhaling gloomily. But soon his expression brightened.
Wait! My bear... Pfthhh... Raghhahahahaha! He laughed in his mind, his lips twitching as he held back the sound, so delighted he could have danced from joy.
Now let's think... Mwuheheheh... He thought, licking his lips as he continued loosening the knot with diligence. If it's the female bear, the toxic smoke would only have damaged her lungs and blood, and if they avoid those parts they would be safe. But I doubt they climbed down to the shore and dragged her up. Which means...
It is the male bear that fell into the trap. The poisoned spears pierced its body and the venom already seeped into the flesh and blood. Hunters usually cut away the poisoned parts, but these idiots don't know the spears were poisoned. And besides, so many spears pierced the body that cutting away the affected parts would be pointless. The entire carcass is saturated with venom...
Now wouldn't you call that a pleasant surprise... Well, it isn't much of a surprise. Why would they leave the bear behind? Its fur is valuable, nobles and knights pay well for it. There is meat too, and fat, and bones for tools. In other words, the bear is worth too much to leave rotting. Of course they wouldn't... They also need food since they're bandits and live here in the forest.
He sighed, feeling a little disappointed that his kill was being butchered, but there was nothing to be done. He could only watch as they cooked the meat and prepared to eat.
"Wait..." The black-haired one stopped his partner before he could take a bite.
"What's wrong?" The other asked in annoyance.
"Do you see those dark marks?" He set down the meat and pointed at the fur, where black lines branched outward through it.
"Shit, is it poisoned?" The brown-haired one grimaced, groaning with exaggerated disgust.
"It isn't, idiots."
Both of their heads snapped toward Zalarys, who yawned, his eyes half-lidded and exhausted, his face drained of colour, and his body weak.
"Hah? The little shit is awake." The brown-haired one grinned. "Do you know what situation you are in, boy?"
"I can guess. My family will pay you and we will be done with it. A few hundred gold dragons are nothing to Targaryens." Zalarys spoke as if he were already familiar with being kidnapped. But the real reason he had decided to speak was to get them to eat the poisoned meat.
"Hmm... There, what did I tell you? He really is a prince." The brown-haired man laughed, slapping his partner's shoulder. However, the black-haired one was eyeing Zalarys coldly, not trusting him in the slightest.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked flatly.
"What I meant is that It isn't poisoned and it has no disease. After hibernation, bears lose weight quickly, and those lines appear the same way they do on a man who loses weight fast. You didn't know that?" Zalarys said with a yawn. He doubted these two were educated, but even so, the black-haired one was no fool. He was perceptive and Zalarys was sure of it, considering how calm and composed he was.
"And how would we know whether you are lying or not?" The black-haired one grabbed him by the hair, hauled him upright and stared at him without expression.
"I'm not-" Zalarys began, but in the next second the man slapped him. His head snapped back and blood began flowing from his lips. The man's hand was the size of Zalarys's entire head, so the force behind it left Zalarys little stunned.
"Tell the truth." He spoke coldly, his hand still raised, ready to strike again the moment he sensed a lie.
"If you don't believe me and want to waste food, just give it to me. I will eat it. I am starving for Seven's sake." Zalarys sighed, offering himself as a test subject. After all, if he ate the food and nothing happened, that meant he wasn't lying, right? It was a reasonable enough argument.
And so they fed Zalarys the cooked meat, watching him carefully for any sign of poisoning. And after half an hour passed and nothing happened, both bandits sighed with relief and began eating eagerly while the boy was full and yawning, already wanting to sleep. However, je didn't, instead he watched them enjoy the meat with a malicious grin.
That's why I told you to keep your tongue in your mouth, Viserra... He thought with displeasure. Who cares about fame when hiding it can save your life? If they had known I was immune to venoms, they would've never believed me.
He felt a sudden irritation now that his aunt had crossed his mind. This was exactly why he had chosen to keep his immunity secret. It was a tool, best used for deceit and misdirection, the kind of thing that worked precisely because no one saw it coming. He hadn't understood that himself at first, though. That had been Hihkran's idea, and his master not only ordered him to keep it hidden but had gone further and removed anyone who already knew about it.
For that, he was grateful. Without Hihkran, Zalarys wouldn't be a tenth of what he was today.
Sighing, he stood up, massaged his wrists and cracked his sore neck.
The bandits looked up at him, blinking in bewilderment, their eyes widening with disbelief and anger as they scrambled to their feet to tie him again.
"Look at your veins." Zalarys rolled his eyes, smoothing his coat as they looked down and saw their veins turning black. They weren't even aware of what the dark lines on the bear meant.
"Three... Two..." He counted aloud as their eyes began to bleed, foam bubbling at their lips, their hands clawing at their own throats. They tried to scream but couldn't manage to even whisper, and fell back, choking in silence.
"One."
Zalarys nodded to himself, glancing down at his twisted finger and deciding to leave it alone. He wasn't experienced enough in the healing arts like he was in the poison arts so he guessed it would've been better to let Nick handle it.
"Now... Time to gather my things and head back..." He laughed, shaking his head, and began collecting anything useful, including the bandits' horse.
"Hmm... This was boring."
________________________________________
"Daemon! Where is your brother!?" Alyssa shouted at Daemon, who looked down, not meeting his mother's eyes.
He had searched the forest, he truly had, after the little shit had sneaked away, but he couldn't find him. And now, two days later, he had returned filled with anxiety and a looming sense of doom, cursing himself silently.
Why didn't I go back and tell them in time... If I hadn't been so prideful, thinking I could resolve it myself... He bit his lower lip, his hands behind his back and fists clenched tightly.
"Calm down, Alyssa. I'm sure he did everything he could." Baelon sighed, though he too was worried, his stomach churning at the thought of something happening to Zalarys.
At the same time, Arnold was drinking with Beatrice, a gleeful smile on his face, while Beatrice was a little worried as well. She wasn't close to the Prince, so she couldn't say she cared deeply, but he was just a boy, and she pitied him for that.
"Calm down. Shouting won't solve anything." Jaehaerys told Alyssa, patting her shoulder, then ordered his knights to search the entire forest and bring his grandsire back.
Alysanne was biting her nail, staring down at the table with a tense expression, not saying another word. She was just sitting, her body shaking and her eyes watering. I have lost so many of my children and grandchildren… Please, gods. Please, not again. I beg you.
She prayed silently, her desperation barely contained.
"I am sure he will be okay, Mother." Gael smiled gently, sitting beside her, trying to encourage her so she wouldn't be so worried. Of course, this incident wasn't something to take lightly, but Gael didn't want to see her mother in such a state.
As for Viserra... I told you already, you're just a boy.
She sighed, not particularly emotional about Zalarys's disappearance. What she felt was closer to exhaustion and annoyance, the feeling of being right when no one listened.
She remembered telling Zalarys that he would fail, that he was too young to join the hunt, but the stubborn boy never listened, and as a result, this happened.
Meanwhile, Alyssa turned and glanced at the dark-skinned man who was staring into the forest, his onyx eyes gleaming coldly, reflecting the campfire and his arms crossed.
Alyssa bristled at his indifference and rushed at him with seething anger. "It is your fault! You poisoned my boy's mind with fantasies! And now we don't even know whether he's alive or not!"
However, Hihkran remained motionless, raising one hand in a gesture for her to stop. It was a great disrespect toward a Princess, enough to warrant execution, but before Alyssa could act on it he spoke.
"My protégé isn't done yet. Keep quiet..." A wide, malicious grin split his face as his eyes sparkled with excitement. "Here he comes..."
From the forest, a young boy emerged, stepping forward and breathing heavily, dragging his body as each step felt like a chore. He was exhausted, his body sore, every muscle strained, sharp pain coursing through him as his bones shook with each movement. Yet his eyes were starkly clear, and he pressed on relentlessly to reach his destination, his heart stalwart, refusing to give up until he stood before the one who had waited for him all this time.
Behind him, the horse carried a boar, several birds, the remains of a bear, and a young deer.
He wore tattered dark robes drenched in blood, his finger twisted at an unnatural angle, his face hidden beneath a hood and hanging from his hands were things that made onlookers freeze.
In his left hand, he held the heads of the male and female bear. In his right, gripped by their hair, were the heads of two men, their faces frozen in terror as if cold fingers of dread were tightening its grip around their hearts. Foam leaked from their lips while dark lines branched outward from their bloodied, weeping eyes.
Their throats were exposed, blood dripping from where their heads had been cut by an axe, windpipes dangling uselessly, creating the horrifying image.
Those who watched were frozen in place, unable to move or speak, rooted to the spot as they stared at the boy dragging his aching body forward.
He looked up, hood sliding back to reveal his face. His white, lustreless hair was drenched in blood and dirt, matching his face and clothes.
He didn't glance at his parents, grandparents, aunts, brothers, septas, maesters, nobles, or knights. His expressionless, exhausted face, saliva dripping from his lips, sought someone else.
And he found him, standing tall with crossed arms, a wide smile on his face.
Zalarys approached his master, dragging his body forward until he stopped. His fingers loosened, and the severed heads fell to the ground, rolling across the grass, dyeing the green red.
Then he looked up, his expression gradually changing, a twisted grin spreading across his face like the maw of a beast.
"Master, look! I've done it… I'vedone it!" He grinned, spreading his arms wide and throwing his head back, laughing crazily as his mismatched eyes burning with deranged glee.
"Preys are SLAUGHTERED!"