"We couldn't find him..." Baelon took a seat, sinking into the chair as he covered his face, conflicting emotions rising within him.
"We searched the Narrow Sea and even the Free Cities. There is nowhere he can be found, damn it." Alyssa cursed, pouring wine into her cup, gulping it down before throwing the glass against the wall, shattering it into countless pieces. "Where is that damned brat hiding!?"
The chamber fell silent. The only sound was Alyssa's occasional cursing. Jaehaerys was absent, discussing something with his small council, though no one cared about that right now.
"Mother, what should we do now?" Viserys asked in a concerned voice. Alyssa had already explained everything to them from the very beginning, Zalarys's plan, goal and deceit. Well... At least as much as they could piece together.
"Nothing... I have received a letter from Lord Corlys as well. The poor man thinks it was his fault that such an incident occurred and feels responsible for bringing your cunt of a brother back home." Alyssa spat with venom, already imagining the smug smirk on her son's face.
"He also took Maester Nickolas. The knights searched his chambers and found a letter that warned us about this. Zalarys threatened him and dragged him along as well. This boy..." Baelon let out a long, exhausted sigh, his eyes bloodshot, dark circles beneath them from lack of sleep.
Daemon's lips twitched as he covered his face, barely holding back laughter. Alyssa noticed and smacked the back of his head. "I'm not in the mood for your nonsense, Daemon."
"You have to admit, it is funny, Mother." Daemon grinned, crossing his arms. "An eleven-year-old boy played you all for fools. And he even managed to kidnap his own maester... Hahaha."
"I hope he is doing well..." Gael whispered softly, staring into the fire, her stomach churning with anxiety.
"He will, my child." Alysanne sighed gently, trying to reassure her sweet daughter.
Viserra, meanwhile, appeared to be the calmest in the room, a faint smirk on her face as she continued reading the records of Westeros, idly playing with her curly, dazzling hair.
Seeing this, Alysanne furrowed her brow, displeased by her reaction. "Might I remind you that he is your betrothed, Viserra?"
"I am aware, Mother." Her lips curled slightly as she tapped her cheek in thought. "However, there is nothing we can do. Of course, I wish for nothing more than his return, to finally see my beloved, but alas, the gods are cruel."
"Pray that the gods are merciful and that he returns. Because the moment..." She hesitated, complicated emotions flashing in her lilac eyes, pain and sorrow mingling beneath the surface, yet she forced the words out nonetheless. "he is declared dead... you will be sent to Oldtown and become a septa, like your sister Maegelle."
Viserra paled, the color draining from her face as she swallowed hard, her expression hardening in disbelief and shock. Yet instead of speaking back, she remained silent, standing up and leaving calmly without saying another word.
As she walked through the dark corridors, her tense face gradually relaxed, turning cold and expressionless as she thought about the future.
"Hmm... By the looks of it, not everything will go as planned. Haah, how vexing. I need more allies to deepen my influence. That's the only way I can obtain my freedom..."
_________________
A moon ago...
Zalarys stood on the shore, staring at the vast horizon with a look filled with such overwhelming desire that it felt as though a blazing inferno burned within his heart, filling it with longing and ambition.
Mirroring the dazzling sun rising in the east and bathing the world in its gentle light, nurturing life itself.
Yet even if it was stunning, even if it was magnificent, Zalarys knew that this endless horizon, which filled his heart with passion and longing, offered not only warmth but unimaginable coldness as well, turning into something ghastly and harrowing.
And the incandescent sun would one day be replaced by the chilling claws of death and tenebrous darkness.
Leaving nothing behind but...
The Dreaded Horizon.
However, Zalarys couldn't stop. He simply couldn't allow himself to remain where he was.
Living in stagnation felt pathetic and miserable. So if that was the case, he would simply change it.
The only path left for him to walk was the one he would pave with his own hands, a path that would lead him out of the dark and into the dazzling embrace of the light.
He knew it was dangerous. He knew it would lead him to indescribable horrors. And deep down, he knew there was every chance he would come to regret ever stepping out of the Red Keep.
However, if he couldn't dare to take this one step forward, he would live forever in regret and sorrow.
"I want... to be remembered." he whispered, bitterness twisting his features as Murghagon let out a low growl and lay down beside him.
Turning to his dragon, Zalarys spoke with venom burning in his wide, bloodshot eyes.
"Daoris jāhor rūnagon yel, Murghagon. Īlon mīvojughamon..." [No one will remember us, Murghagon. We will be forgotten...]
Murghagon opened his left eye and stared at Zalarys, sensing his rider's desire and frustration. He spread his wings wide, his serrated fangs parting as he released a low, incomprehensible sound, as if urging him to climb onto his back so they could fly until they reached the edge of the world, until they found the Dreaded Horizon they were both searching for.
A sad smile appeared on Zalarys's face as he leaned his head against the bone mask of his dragon. He truly didn't wish to live in stagnation. Nor did he wish to be forgotten. This voyage might doom him, certainly, but was death truly the most horrifying curse, or more of a blessing in disguise, offering solace and rest?
No... The worst pain, far worse than the peaceful darkness of death, was oblivion. To be forgotten. Remembered by no one.
There was a saying, right? A man truly dies when no one remembers him.
And Zalarys, the third son, would die just like that if he remained where he was.
The third son, with nothing to inherit and no glory awaiting him, would die as just another Targaryen, like so many of his uncles and aunts. Like Valerion, Gaemon, Vaegon, Aegon, Daenerys, or Daella.
Who would remember them after a hundred years? What had they done to deserve the recognition of the world?
Nothing. And so they died as no one.
If he didn't change this, he would share their fate.
So he would do something great, something so outlandish that the world would have no choice but to bend to his will.
He would reach the edge of the world. He would make discoveries none had made before him. He would taste the blood of every creature that walked this earth and see the world in all its dreadful glory.
"Issi tha kuna qubor ēdrurys, drēje?" [It isn't such a bad goal, right?]
Murghagon licked his dark, gleaming fangs in agreement, staring at the rising sun as well while Zalarys let out a sigh, for some reason coming to a sudden understanding. Perhaps it was because he knew this person very deeply and intimately. He wasn't sure, but one thing was clear.
He truly did.
"Mayhaps that's what Viserra felt as well." he whispered to himself, with no particular emotion in his voice, sounding more idle and laid-back even as he thought about Viserra of all people.
"It makes sense in a way. The only way to be recognized by the realm would be by becoming queen or by making great accomplishments, like Elissa, whose footsteps I"m following right now. I'm sure Viserra wouldn't want to be just another broodmare, given away to bear children until the day she dies in childbirth, alone and discarded like a tool."
He paused for a moment before continuing.
"As painful as it is to admit, it's admirable to fight against inevitable fate. Isn't that right, Murghagon?"
He spoke with a melancholic tone as his dragon let out a low growl, staring at the sky with his sickly green eyes wide open.
Zalarys nodded, listening to the wind as well. His ears perked up at the sound the howling winds carried toward him. He reached for his crossbow hidden on Murghagon's back, where he kept most of his tools, then stretched and glanced at the sky.
"Looks like it's time." he said, his voice devoid of any rmotion as he raised the crossbow and aimed, his right eye closing while he stared at the raven crossing the sky.
Hmm... Wind is coming from the right... He tilted the bow slightly, exhaled and relaxed his body, and the moment his lungs were empty, he fired.
The arrow cut through the air with stunning speed and precision. It wasn't aimed at the raven directly, but the wind from the right pushed the wooden bolt, shifting its path until it pierced the bird's chest and punched clean through.
Zalarys set down his crossbow, walked along the shore to where the raven had fallen into the sand, picked it up and examined it, then removed the letter it had been carrying.
He stared at the folded paper for a moment, studying the coat of arms of House Velaryon, the silver seahorse on sea green, then broke the wax and opened it.
"I'm sorry, Rhaenys. I don't plan on going back. But I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed." he said expressionlessly, calmly unfolding the paper. "Sending ravens isn't always safe."
[It has been a while, Alyssa. I hope you are doing well, along with everyone in the Red Keep. I have missed you all dearly and wish I could see you now.
However, I have urgent news.
Zalarys wishes to begin a journey which will, without doubt, be dangerous, with a very real chance of costing him his life.
I tried to stop him, but I'm not certain he will listen. That is why I'm sending this raven to inform you. Please take care of him. He is still young and believes himself invincible because of his dragon, but we both know that isn't true.
Danger finds us even in the safest places, after all.
Now that you are aware of this, I can finally rest easy. I hope you can change his mind before he does something that cannot be fixed.
From Rhaenys Velaryon.]
"Hmm..." Zalarys licked his dry lips, tearing the paper apart and throwing the pieces into the sea. "As predictable as you are, I'm still grateful for your concern, cousin. As for you..."
He turned around, looking at the man standing on the shore, his deep eyes locking with his, his expression solemn.
"Making a prince wait isn't very polite, my lord."
Corlys Velaryon remained motionless, tilting his head and glancing at the dead raven, thinking hard about the events that had led to this situation, as well as the intentions of his prince.
"I see... you thought of this already. Even Rhaenys's rejection and the raven to King's Landing. You never truly cared about her part in this, huh? That will certainly hurt my wife."
"My sincerest apologies, my lord. I do love my dear cousin, but I couldn't risk getting caught." Zalarys bowed faintly, his tone polite and reserved.
"As for you... I knew you would come to me eventually. The mighty Sea Snake would never pass on such an opportunity. Sadly, my lovely cousin is too kind. I knew she would worry about my safety, so I presented a plan knowing it would be rejected. However, I was well aware of her cautious nature too. She is wise. That is why she sent a raven to King's Landing as a backup plan, in case I didn't listen to her."
He paused, wind blowing his hair back before he added with a gentle tone.
"But that doesn't matter. Her raven is dead, and the letter has already sunk into the waters, carried away by the raging sea."
"If you think that works, then you underestimate your family, my prince. Rhaenys will instantly understand what's happening the moment she doesn't receive Princess Alyssa's letter in time." Corlys sighed, already seeing the flaws in his plan.
As sharp as the boy was, he was still that, a boy.
"I'm aware." Zalarys nodded, stepping forward to stand before him. "That's why it won't be Rhaenys sending a raven to King's Landing, but me. For that, I will need your signet ring, my lord." He smiled politely, gesturing at the ring on Corlys's finger while taking out an already prepared letter from his coat.
Corlys stared at him, lost in his thoughts, unwilling to answer before weighing the odds first.
Noticing his hesitation, Zalarys let out a soft breath and spoke, trying to reassure him. "If you're feeling uncertain, you can blame it all on me. Say that I took advantage of your hospitality and stole the ring. Then, when you began your journey to the Free Cities for your own business, your informants notified you of the situation and your mistake. Feeling responsible, you decided that instead of finishing your business, you would chase me in order to bring me back in one piece. After we return, if there are still problems, I will confess and take the blame as well. Have no worries, my lord. I will take responsibility for everything."
"They will know, and you will be punished."
Zalarys hummed, his expression thoughtful as he considered the future. "Perhaps but I don't care. They can't prove it. As for punishment, by the time I return I will be an adult, and whether it's my parents or grandparents, they won't be able to do anything about it. All you need to do is give me the ring, my lord."
Corlys didn't agree right away. Instead, he seemed more curious about the contents of the letter and the obvious danger it carried.
"I'm curious, what did you write, my prince? Oh, and I should remind you, you cannot replicate my wife's writing style."
"I can't, on that much we both agree. However, I had an old letter my cousin once sent to my father, and I also have someone capable of replicating her handwriting. That is why I'm confident." He smiled faintly, staring at the sea for a moment before adding.
"As for the contents of the letter, it's nothing special. My mother will receive a letter saying I wish to learn the ways of sailors and serve as your squire, my lord. As for Rhaenys, she will receive a letter saying I resisted and tried to escape, but Meleys and Vhagar caught up to us and my parents dragged me back."
Zalarys sighed, staring at the rising sun, feeling a bit tired. "Of course, such a deception won't hold for long. However, it will buy us enough time, and time is what we need most. When Rhaenys figures it out, she will chart the most obvious route for our journey, the shortest path around the world. That is why we will restore our supplies at Lys, rest for two days, and then depart for Volantis. We will stay there for a few days for my own business and then sail immediately for the Summer Isles, avoiding the dragons of my family who will be searching over the Narrow Sea and the Free Cities. We will sail around the Summer Isles and from there reach Sothoryos."
Corlys was silent, but he definitely seemed impressed. So much reassurance, a detailed and sound plan, and the presence of a dragonrider filled him with confidence, so he removed the ring from his finger and handed it over.
"Fine, I'm in. But colour me surprised, I never expected you to be so capable at such a young age."
Zalarys paused, furrowing his brow in confusion as he stared blankly. "Well... I only had a general idea..."
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and pointed at the drunk man sleeping on the shore. "It was Maester Nick who refined the plan, removed the risks, and perfected it."
Corlys turned around, pausing, and then blinked in bewilderment as he noticed a man in Maester's robes and chains, snoring as he curled up and hugged his knees. "Well... that's even more surprising, I guess."
Zalarys smiled wryly, walking to his dragon and using its body to prepare the letter since there was no table here. "Don't be fooled by his appearance. Nick may seem eccentric, but he's a genius. Without him, none of this would've been possible. I still have a lot to learn from him, but I'm honored you thought I was as clever as my mentor."
He paused, his expression briefly concerned before quickly steeling his resolve. "As for his safety... there's nothing to worry about. I won't allow anyone to harm or punish him. Whoever tries will end up in the jaws of this one."
He spoke, pointing at Murghagon's serrated fangs as the dragon snorted, burying his head in the sand out of boredom.
After finishing preparing the letters, Zalarys licked his lips and approached his teacher, nudging him. "Nick, it's time. Wake up."
"Mhmm... five more minutes, my prince." He yawned, turning over and continuing to sleep while Zalarys and Corlys stared at him blankly, unsure what to say.
Sighing, Zalarys poked him with a stick, his expression unimpressed, regretting all the praise he had just given. "Come on, just do something, teacher..."
After a few minutes of prodding, Nick finally opened his eyes slowly, a scowl forming as he let out a wide yawn, rubbing his eyes and looking disoriented. "Fine, fine... what is it this time?"
Zalarys handed him the letters and the prepared ravens. "This time we need to reassure mother. We can't have her worry, can we?"
"Hmm... so, Princess Alyssa..." He tapped his open palm with his fist, understanding what was happening, but then paused, glancing at Zalarys with a hesitant look. "I won't lose my head because of this, right? No, no, I definitely will. It's obvious. Ah, what is life... But what can I do? Alas, even if I'm a pitiful Maester, I still can't leave my prince alone."
"Please, take it seriously, teacher." Zalarys asked sincerely, taking a seat while Murghagon growled, green flames escaping his maw and igniting the already prepared wood, forming a small campfire.
Corlys took a seat beside them, waiting for Nick, and soon, after a few minutes of complaining, the Maester began his work, preparing the raven.
"Hmm... fret not, my prince. We send the first letter to Princess Alyssa, to reassure her, of course, no other malicious reasons here. And after that, we wait for its return."
He said softly, caressing the feathers of the raven in his hands. "Oh, my poor raven, I still remember when you were an egg. Now it is time to leave the nest and fly in the blue sky, free and glorious as you were meant to be."
Nick proclaimed in a dramatic tone and released the bird, watching it flap its wings and soar toward King's Landing, nostalgia burning deep in his eyes.
"They grow so fast, right?" he asked, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Right..." Corlys replied, a bit uncertain, while Zalarys nodded with a complicated expression.
"We kill it after it comes back, though." Nick laughed, leaning back on the rock with another yawn as he shook his head. "Ah, that's too fast, right? There's a lot to do before we kill it."
"Teacher, you're getting carried away." Zalarys reminded him softly.
Nick raised his hands in surrender, shrugging with an amused smile. "Alright, my prince. Let's get serious then..."
He grinned, poking at the fire with a stick, and began explaining his plan fully.
"Basically, we remain here in Driftmark, my prince, waiting for our raven to return. Hiding isn't much of a problem. Murghagon is a good boy and can conceal himself in the water. As for us, Lord Corlys will keep us hidden. The moment our raven comes back, you shoot it down, I replace both the raven and the letter, and send it to Lady Rhaenys. The Maester at Driftmark will notice the swap, but I'm certain Lord Corlys can handle that, convince the man to keep his mouth shut. We don't appreciate damned cunts here."
He stood up, stretching and pacing in circles. "Once that's settled, we depart. I know, my lord, that you will be sailing for the Free Cities soon on your own business. That's precisely why I chose this moment, so as not to arouse suspicion. My prince, Murghagon and I will catch up to you along the way, and from there we continue together."
"How's that?" he smirked, tilting his head and glancing at them, but then he blinked, feeling his stomach growl and a sharp headache splitting his skull.
"Fuck, forget the plan. Isn't there wine here? Hangover's killing me."
[End of Volume I: Hunter]