The Crown Prince Rhaecerys Targaryen found his gaze drawn restlessly to the window of his study. He was supposed to be reading and preparing for one of his lessons later in the week. The day was dull, grey, and chilly, but the window had been left wide open, a brightly colored cloth tied to its handle and waving in the wind. He would have liked to have said that it was the movement of the cloth that was distracting him, as well as the unpleasant cold, but there was a reason for both of those things, and he was not willing to give that up for a little extra comfort. She had been in King’s Landing for three days, and the urge to seek her out himself was growing stronger with every passing day.
Sighing heavily, Rhaecerys looked back down at the book in front of him, resigned to the fact that it was unlikely she would seek him today, with the sun already well into its downward journey. A heavy flapping immediately caught his attention, however, and his head whipped back around to look at the crow, perched delicately on his windowsill. He stood up so fast that his chair tipped over and crashed to the floor, and if this had been an ordinary bird, he would have been anxious that the noise might have scared it off.
The bird just watched him coolly as he hastily righted the chair and took two long steps towards her, reaching out his hands to touch her. The bird eyed him skeptically, then cawed and pecked at his hand. He readjusted his right arm quickly, stretching it out so that she could hop onto it. She never did like it when he tried to coddle her.
The crow ruffled her feathers imperiously, settling herself on his arm, her claws digging in just enough to keep her steady. He had to resist the urge to stroke her head with his free hand, as he had done so once before, and she had left immediately. Instead, he held her on his arm, amethyst eyes glued on the bird with a gentle adoration, as he began walking out of the Red Keep, shielding her from view with one large hand. She allowed him to carry her all the way out to one of the bronze gates with all the careless grace of a little queen, not even bothering to look at him, and as soon as they were out of the keep, she launched herself off his arm, flying forward to guide him.
Rhaecerys chased after the bird with a careless abandon, carefully plaited silver hair flowing behind him, and then there she was, leaning against the wall of a small shop comfortably. It almost looked like she was sleeping, but her eyes were open, only the whites of her eyes showing.
The crow flew to her and landed to her shoulder, and Silya Velaryon closed her eyes and then blinking them open again, silver-purple irises landing on him with the same, implacable expression the bird had given him. A smile came unbidden to his mouth. Her cold, almost arrogant look was charming in its own way, but especially when it cracked, and he got a rosy blush to spread to her cheeks, and he was learning.
Before she could say anything, Rhaecerys captured her hand in one of his and pressed it to his lips. “Lady Silya.” He said, smiling at her with the tiniest hint of mischief.
She pulled her hand from his, looking away from him, but turning just the slightest shade of pink. Pushing herself off from the wall, she began walking away, but the bird was a sign he was allowed to stay with her.
Keeping pace with her easily, he asked her, “Has your family come with you to King’s Landing?”
“Merely my sister Isabel and my parents.” She said, regaining her composure quickly. “Most of my other siblings have been lately married. I believe I have you to thank for some of that, your highness. The tourney celebrating your majority was where two of my sisters met the young Lord Willem Baratheon and Prince Kassian Martell of Dorne, and where Isabel met her betrothed.”
“And where I met you.” He added.
She looked over at him, eyes widening for just a moment, then she conceded, “Yes, I suppose.”
She gave him a complicated look, and he reached out a hand grabbed her elbow just a moment to stop her, letting go quickly. “Is it too much for me to hope that we might end up the same?”
The look on her face, he realized, was an answer to his question before he had even asked it. Not a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. She looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding what to say, then settled for shrugging her shoulders, and continued to walk.
“Where are we going?” He asked, knowing by now that her silence meant pursuing the conversation further would be fruitless.
“I don’t know.” She said, not looking at him, cheeks just touched with the slightest hint of pink.
He took her hand, then, and got a chance to see her look at him, lips just slightly parted and eyes widened a little in surprise. Gods, she was beautiful. “Then allow me.” She’d caught him as the perfect time of day this time.
Not letting go of her hand, he led her back towards the Red Keep. He’d never taken her in that direction before, and when she realized where they were going, he felt her hesitate, so he stopped and looked at her. Her expression was guarded, but she didn’t remove her hand from his. For a moment, the two of them just stood there in the street, watching each other. But he smiled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “If you would permit me, my lady. I only wish to show you something.”
Her face split into a small smile, though he wasn’t quite certain why. “Will it be dangerous?”
He tipped his head slightly to the side, thinking, “Perhaps a little.”
She took a step closer, and pulled her face closer to his. Her smile was knowing. She knew, didn’t she? The effect that she had on him. His breath quickened slightly, unable to tear his eyes away from hers.
“Will I like it, my prince?” She asked, eyes challenging, but curious, not quite flirtatious. Rhaecerys doubted she knew how much he wished he could say he truly was her prince.
He couldn’t answer for a bit, stunned by her closeness, but he finally managed to breathe, “I would not take you there if I thought otherwise.”
Silya nodded and took a step back, and he took a deep breath to shake off her spell, then continued walking, quickening his step a little. She’d distracted him long enough that they might be too late if they walked too slow.
He led her to the top of the easternmost wall, and for a moment, Silya looked amusedly confused, but then she looked out over the wall and caught her breath. The sun setting to their left cast its dying orange light and the wall’s heavy shadow on the silver waves of Blackwater Bay. The look on her face was priceless as she pressed her hands on the edge of the wall and leaned out to get a better view of the horizon, where the sky was already beginning to darken to a bruise-colored blue, clouds colored red.
The prince stood next to her, hands also on the balustrade, but eyes firmly on her face. “I know it is likely little different from the view from Driftmark castle at sunset, but-“
She stopped him by pressing a hand to his, taking a moment longer to drink in the horizon before turning to look at him, “It’s beautiful, your highness.” And then she laughed, and leaned a little closer, “Beautiful enough, perhaps, to allow a man a little hope.” She planted a kiss on his cheek so quickly, he didn’t have any time to do anything more than freeze, and with her long strides she was halfway down the wall before he could think to stop her.
He watched her leave fondly, though he thought it was a shame she hadn’t stopped to enjoy the sunset just a little longer. The light would’ve set off the glow of her cheeks, and perhaps his own. He pressed his hands to his cheeks, and looked out over the water again, knowing he would think of her every time he saw this sight again.