[27] Blood in the Kingswood

Chapter 27: Blood in the Kingswood

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The moonlight glinted off silver armor, and there they were. I recognized the sigil that flew on their banner and glinted on their armor. It was… House Velaryon. It was one of the only other houses besides the Targaryen that had Valyrian blood in them.

The first thing I noticed was the white hair; it shone even in the darkness, unmistakably Valyrian. It was a hoax. The group of two dozen riders pulled their reins as they spotted me, curiosity evident in their glances. At the front of the armored group, a man with sea-weathered features, dark skin, and a regal bearing observed me, his expression one of cautious curiosity.

I'd done my study before coming to Kings Landing from Dorne, so while I didn't recognize his face, I recognized his identity. Lord Monford Velaryon, head of House Velaryon, and beside him rode his young son Monterys.

“You there!” Monford called out, his voice carrying across the clearing. He nudged his horse closer, the animal’s hooves crunching against the underbrush. His eyes narrowed as they settled on me, taking in my appearance—the light armor, the white hair. “Who are you? What are you doing out here in Kingswood?”

His tone wasn’t overtly hostile, but there was an edge to it. I was more curious about what he was doing here, apparently hunting with his son, from the looks of it. We Targaryens allowed House Velaryon to hunt in Kingswood when we ruled as a show of appreciation to their loyalty. However, that changed when Robert took over. He only allowed himself to hunt here. I doubted Joffrey would allow them considering that.

Wait no, they support Stannis, not Joffrey. So they were here uncaring of Joffrey’s decree? They were close to Kingswood, from the other side, the seaside, so it made sense. They came here, sure that they'd not find anyone else. Then, they found me. This could be troublesome if they choose to eliminate me, thinking I'd report them to Joffrey.

I straightened, giving them an easy smile, though my mind raced. “Rys, my lord,” I said simply, adopting a nonchalant tone. I couldn't use the Vis identity here. “I am a wandering mercenary from Volantis. I’m just making my way to King’s Landing, but got a little lost in the woods. Am I not allowed here?”

Monford’s gaze was sharp, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment before drifting to my hair. What was he looking at?

“Volantis, eh?” He nodded, and somehow he sounded fully convinced. “If not for your hair and eyes…” his voice trailed off as he scrutinized my eyes, “I might’ve doubted it.”

I froze for a heartbeat, the corners of my smile faltering. My hair was black, right? Why was he…

The wind blew a lock of my hair in front of my face, and I caught white. Shit, fuck. What happened?

I needed a moment, but I realized what had happened—the System’s little ‘Old Valyrian blood strengthened’ notification wasn’t just fluff. It had simply overwritten Kinvara's little hair-changing magic and returned my hair to white. I could feel the weight of my gaze shifting, checking the reflection in my dagger’s blade for a glimpse of my eyes. Sharp purple, unlike the faint one before that, was almost unnoticeable unless someone looked too closely.

Was that why I could see better now?

I nodded, keeping my smile in place. “Yes, it seems some features are hard to shake off,” I replied easily, letting my gaze drift pointedly to his own locks of hair. “Like that familiar silver hair, my lord. Beautiful braids.”

The little boy, who sat beside his father on a smaller horse, couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from me. I failed to recall his name. Was it Monty? He was staring intensely.

The boy’s gaze was wide, openly fascinated as he took in my appearance. There was something innocent in that curiosity, something that made him easier to read than his father’s scrutinizing stare.

“Whoa…” Monty blurted, his voice high-pitched with the kind of wonder that only children possessed. “You have Old Valyrian blood too? Do you… do you know magic?”

“Monterys.” His father gave him a stern look, but there was no denying the boy’s eagerness, the way his fingers fidgeted against the reins.

I chuckled softly, shrugging. “Just a wandering knight, young lord. No magic, I’m afraid. Only a spear and some luck.

Monford eyed me a moment longer, his gaze slipping to the clearing around us, to the faint glow of the embers from the earlier dragon fire was nowhere to be seen. I didn't remain in spots that were too burnt, and this place was as good as new. However, the scent of burnt meat did linger in the air, and his nostrils flared slightly as he caught it. I hoped he'd just assume I was cooking myself a game.

He glanced back at me, his expression guarded, though he didn’t press further. “We’re camped nearby,” Monford said, his tone shifting, becoming a touch more formal. “Why don’t you join us for the night, Ser Rys? It’s not wise to be alone in these woods after dark.”

The ‘invitation’ was clear, but so was the undertone. A lone knight out in the woods, an unfamiliar face—he didn’t trust me, and this was his way of keeping an eye on me before deciding what to do with me. I inclined my head, giving a small, seemingly appreciative smile.

“I’d be honored, my lord,” I replied. “But I’d rather not bother you. I plan to sleep the night out and continue my journey tomorrow if you’d allow me.”

He stared at me for a moment before grunting with a nod. “Sure thing,” he said, “then let’s talk for a bit more. It’s not every day I meet fellow Valerian. Who is your family?” His voice was polite, but his intentions were mixed.

I gave a slow shake of my head, my gaze going briefly to the moon before flicking back to meet Monford’s. “None that I know of,” I said. “My mother was a whore—a woman of common birth. My father? Never knew him. He is the one with the Valyrian blood, apparently, but I have no idea who he is. I’ve been on my own for a long time, my lord. Family’s not something I’ve ever had the luxury of.”

My voice was measured, devoid of sentimentality, just the way I wanted it. I could feel Monford’s gaze still weighing on me, searching for cracks.

“A wanderer with Valyrian blood, I see,” Monford mused, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Even rarer.” He left it at that, but his eyes lingered on me a moment longer, and I could feel the wheels turning in the man’s mind.

I think I'm safe. He wouldn't want to kill a kin based on pure suspicion. I hoped. The conversation paused, and then the boy broke the silence.

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” Monterys spoke with wide, eager eyes. For a moment, I was scared they’d seen my dragon soar the skies earlier, and that was the reason they were here, But his curiosity was as innocent as his father’s was calculated. His face was a picture of fascination.

I turned my head to look at the boy, my gaze softening, a faint smile on my lips. “Nope. But perhaps one day, young lord,” I said. “Perhaps one day, you will see one.”

Monterys’ eyes widened further, excitement lighting up his expression. “Really?!” He was ready to burst with questions, but his father’s hand rested on his shoulder, a subtle gesture to temper the boy’s enthusiasm.

“Enough questions for now, Monterys,” Monford said, his voice carrying both authority and warmth. He gave me a polite nod. “It’s been a long day for all of us. We’ll let our guest rest. We've interrupted his sleep long enough.”

He nodded and then rode the other way. His group followed him in tandem, hooves clicking against the ground. I stared at their retreating backs. I was perhaps really lucky that they’d just let me leave. It was probably because he sensed kinship in me, and part of him didn’t want to cause trouble for me. Any other day, and the result of this encounter might have been different.

House Velaryon, huh? I watched them leave, eyes lingering on Monford. The ruler of Driftmark was a small family from the old Valyria. They were once allies of House Targaryen, their fleets unmatched, their loyalty unshakable. That was in the past. I knew they supported Stannis now, and Monford paid dearly for that in the original timeline by dying in the Battle of Blackwater. I didn’t plan to save him from that.

Instead, my eyes were on that boy, Monterys, who’d become lord after that incident. House Velaryon could be an asset in time. The boy’s fascination with dragons could be a key.

When the time was right, I'd pay a visit to Driftmark, and that boy would remember me. “I guess I know which house I’d bring under me first,” I muttered under the cold whispers of the wind.

Then again, perhaps I'd already have the seven kingdoms under me by then. I had more than one plan, after all. One starting with Renly Baratheon’s death…

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Author Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I have a good feeling about 2025 for myself, and an odd feeling for the world as a whole... May nothing bad happen.