A Song of Ash and Empire

The sea stretched before them, a vast, dark expanse beneath the starry sky. The wind that rolled in from the Narrow Sea was sharp and carried with it the smell of salt, the terrible stench of Kingslanding, and the lingering chill of night.

The wind tugged at Rhaegar's cloak, rustling the fabric against his frame as he stood motionless at the edge of the balcony.

Beside him, Ser Ryon Celtigar remained just as still. The man was disciplined, measured, never overstepping, yet always watchful. He had served Rhaegar loyally since the prince was old enough to need a knight of his own.

The knight stood a step behind and to the side, as was proper, hands clasped loosely behind his back. His sword hung at his hip, a constant presence, though tonight, there were no threats to meet—only the quiet of the Red Keep and the faint crashing of waves below.

Rhaegar had said little since he had come to gaze at the sea, his attention locked on the horizon in silence.

Then, without turning, he finally spoke.

"Ser Ryon," Rhaegar murmured, his voice low but deliberate.

The knight inclined his head slightly. "My prince."

"If I were in need of your help—truly in need of it—would you give it to me, without question?"

Ryon turned his head, his sharp gaze locking onto the boy beside him.

It was an odd question.

Not because the prince doubted him—Rhaegar had never needed to question his loyalty before. He knew where his knight stood.

So why was he asking now?

Ryon hesitated for only a fraction of a moment.

Was this a test?

A test in fealty?

But Rhaegar was a clever boy, too clever. He spoke with the certainty of men three times his age.

And he was not the sort to ask empty questions of such nature.

If he spoke, there was purpose behind it.

Ryon straightened slightly, his expression serious. "You are my prince. My sword is sworn to protect you."

Rhaegar did not turn from the sea. "That is not what I asked."

A sharper pause.

Ryon frowned.

"My prince, your safety is my duty," he said carefully. "There is nothing I would not do to uphold it."

Rhaegar exhaled slowly as if weighing his next words.

"What if what I ask of you is not to protect me?"

Ryon did not let the flicker of surprise reach his face.

What could the prince possibly be leading to?

A task that did not involve guarding him?

The thought was unsettling.

Rhaegar was his duty. His only duty at the current time.

What could be more important than that?

The knight did not answer immediately, because he knew that the prince would see through any empty reply. Instead, he carefully chose his words.

"If duty and loyalty require of it from me, then my blade will follow your command, my prince."

That, at last, earned a reaction.

Rhaegar turned, his gaze piercing, the torchlight casting flickering shadows over his sharp features.

"Even if it takes you far from me?"

Ryon inhaled, measured and slow.

So that was it.

Was he asking him to leave?

The knight studied his prince for a long moment.

A test, a game, a trick?

No.

Rhaegar Targaryen did not ask such things for amusement.

There was something else here.

Something his prince was not saying.

Ryon exhaled through his nose.

"If you asked it of me, my prince," he said quietly, "I would."

A beat of silence.

Rhaegar's gaze did not waver, his expression unreadable.

"You would follow my will, even if it was only mine to bear?"

Ryon did not hesitate and nodded his affirmation.

Rhaegar's lips pressed together for a fraction of a moment.

Then, he exhaled.

"Good," he murmured. "That is what I needed to hear."

Another pause.

Then, just as abruptly as the conversation had started, Rhaegar turned back to the sea, his expression unreadable once more.

Ryon, though curious, did not press him further.

The prince would speak when he was ready.

And speak he did.

Ryon knew not what to make of Rhaegar's words when he heard them.

Of what his prince was asking him to do.

But he had already given his answer and his answer.

And what his prince asked of him, he would see it done.