Hugh Hammer (ASOIF/SI)

 "Are we ready?" Ser Hugh asked, in that rather gruff manner of his.

 She felt an annoying blush come to her cheeks at this and before

 she could say anything Lady Arryn answered in the affirmative and

 she kept her mouth shut, for the whole thing was rather strained. A

 few moons ago with the news of the death of the Queen Lady Arryn

 had become much more withdrawn and, if not hostile, at the very

 least cold.

 She did not fully understand exactly why this would be, but she had

 been informed that as winter was upon the realm and that the

 weather was getting steadily worse that the Eyrie was being

 abandoned. The court of the Falcon was moving to the Gates of the

 Moon as it was wont to do, but apparently, she was to return to Kings

 Landing forthwith. And via dragon also, her maids and servants were

 to return by way of the Bloody Gate and overland.

 A few days ago, Ser Hugh had arrived on Vermithor, and poor

 weather had delayed them departing from the Eyrie.

 Ser Hugh had arrived with a set of 'flying kit' as he described it for

 her to wear, which had caused consternation when it was revealed, it

 was a smaller version of the bulky clothes he wore atop Vermithor.

 Her outfit, or her 'flying kit' was trimmed in scarlet though, and

 underneath the bulky coat and pants was a very comfortable woolen

 ensemble of what looked like doublet and trousers, with the trousers

 reaching up above her tummy, with straps over her shoulders to hold

 them up. Underneath this was another similar layer but made of silk,

 a triple set of gloves was also part of the outfit, silk, wool and

 sheepskin. Thick woolen socks with large boots, deeply lined with

 sheepskin protected her feet, atop her head she had to wear a sort

 of a tight-fitting helmet, again of sheepskin.

Like Ser Hugh she also had a silk scarf wrapped around her neck,

 his was black but hers was scarlet, and she moved like a stuffed

 animal in all this get up, clumsy and beginning to sweat despite the

 cold, crisp air of the Eyrie.

 Vermithor hulked in the courtyard of the Eyrie, a large and rather

 complicated looking saddle strapped to the base of his neck. Against

 the rear of the saddle were rolled up a good portion of her

 belongings, snuggly rolled tight within a large oilskin that was

 strapped and tied to the saddle.

 The journey was set to take them three days on dragon back as

 opposed to the several weeks it would otherwise take using the

 roads, stopping at Saltpans and Sow's Horn before making Kings

 Landing. In several separate saddle bags were some changes of

 underclothes, sleeping clothing and two woolen winter dresses, in

 case they were needed. Hugh had not stopped long at either keep

 on the way up, only overnight, but her presence might prompt a

 feast, and she would have to be at least minimally prepared in that

 case.

 A round of formal goodbyes were said and with that Ser Hugh helped

 her up into the saddle, she would be sitting behind Ser Hugh and the

 saddle contraption had a back for her to lean against and after he

 had strapped her in, he had draped and wrapped an oilskin around

 her to provide her with some protection from the rain that Hugh had

 said was likely on their flight.

 After this Ser Hugh jumped back down and walked around Vermithor

 and underneath the great dragon, she had seen him do this before

 when he had taken Vermithor up for his daily flights on the dragon.

 He would often raise an arm and run his outstretched arm over

 Vermithor's scales and belly, apparently this was something of a

 ritual that Ser Hugh indulged in before he mounted his dragon.

 Once finished Ser Hug mounted up and strapped himself in just

 ahead of her, her legs ran down on either side of where he sat in his

saddle and once he was ready Vermithor leaped into the air without

 any command from its rider.

 She felt her stomach lurch as the dragon took wing, thrilling as it

 cleared the walls of the Eyrie and the great vista of the surroundings

 of the seat of the Arryn's came into view.

 Not that she had not seen the view multiple times from the walls and

 towers of the Eyrie, but to see it atop a dragon, with the wind

 whistling past you and the heat of the great beast warming you, as

 its wings beat steadily, well that was something else entirely.

 Ser Hugh did not indulge in any fancy flying to salute the Eyrie and

 its occupants on their departure, he simply set course for the Gates

 of the Moon in the distance.

 After a few minutes Rhaena started to get a little annoyed, Ser Hugh

 had said absolutely nothing to her, beyond a brief 'are you all right'

 shortly after Vermithor had launched himself from the Eyrie, and it

 was beginning to grate on her nerves. She was not used to people

 ignoring her, not at the very least trying to engage her in

 conversation, especially knights….

 She knew a little about this Ser Hugh, that he had been a bastard

 blacksmith on Dragonstone, that he had tamed Vermithor and that

 he was well regarded even in spite of his humble birth. He had

 apparently fought well during the uprising in the Eyrie, or so she had

 heard some of the Household Knights of the Eyrie saying. But all had

 been in either small or large measure disparaging about him and his

 birth, and she got the impression that none of them truly liked Ser

 Hugh.

 She remembered he had been very curt for someone of his station

 when talking to Prince Joffrey, she had overheard some of what had

 been said between them and she had been horrified that one such

 as thus Hugh would ever dare to speak to a Prince in that manner,

 never mind that Joffrey was the Crown Prince! She had avoided

 Hugh as much as possible while he had been at the Eyrie but had

been forced to be in his presence numerous times, she had set her

 face into, if not a scowl, for that was un-princess like, at least a

 neutral if slightly hostile stare. And the shamelessness of the man,

 speaking to them almost naked while being attended to by an

 Acolyte, stitching his wounds closed over his bulkily muscled torso.

 He had been knighted after the battle of the Gullet, where the

 dragons had destroyed the fleet of the Three Daughters, and not for

 some achievement on the battlefield or in a tourney. So was he really

 a Knight then wondered Rhaena, and if he was not a knight, what,

 what was he then? Should she even be addressing him as 'Ser'?

 Pondering this she decided that mayhaps it was better if she did not

 engage in conversation with this Hugh, he was likely far too beneath

 her station. And with that she ended any thoughts of a conversation,

 and instead watched the stunning landscape pass her by.

 As they passed over the Gates of the Moon the threatened rain

 started, and she huddled deeper into her clothes, as the wind and

 Vermithor's flight drove the rain straight into them. At least she could

 shelter somewhat behind the bulk of Hugh up ahead of her, and she

 was thankful for that small mercy at least.

 On and on they flew in silence, the cold slowly seeping into her,

 despite the heat of Vermithor below her, the rain making her

 miserable, but despite the discomfort she fell into something of a

 fitful sleep.

 She awoke with dusk settling all around them and the dragon

 descending towards the ground, a castle obvious on a hill to her

 right, and a town sprawling at its base.

 "Saltpans" Hugh said, his voice sounded tired and muffled, "we will

 be landing in a minute."

 As if he needed to tell her that, was it not obvious that they were

 landing? She did not reply as Vermithor turned and flew slowly lower,

 but still yet not directly towards the castle, and she thought to voice

her notice of this when Vermithor heeled over sharply and turned

 directly towards the castle, hearing Hugh mumble what sounded like

 'Call the Ball, Maverick has the Ball' or some such. Vermithor flaring

 his great wings and settling down to the earth, to land outside of the

 town and before the castle of House Cox.

 Which was quite a way away she noted sourly, she was tired and

 sore and could not understand why Hugh had not landed Vermithor

 closer to the keep.

 "Ser Hugh?" she asked, deciding that it would be petty of her to not

 use the honorific that had been bestowed upon him, even though

 she did not believe that the man was any sort of a knight.

 "Your Grace" he replied, as he began to unstrap himself from his

 saddle.

 "Why did you not land closer to the keep? We are quite the distance

 away from it."

 "The land around the keep is mostly marsh, there is only a narrow

 causeway from the town to the Keep. I landed us as close as I could

 on solid ground your Grace."

 She was about to retort but was distracted as Ser Hugh began to

 unbuckle and unstrap her from her saddle, Vermithor obligingly

 lowering his neck until it was resting on the dark ground below them.

 Once he had her unstrapped Ser Hugh jumped down and held his

 arms up for her, and she was forced to make a little jump into Ser

 Hugh's arms, before he set her on the ground.

 He promptly ignored her and went off to do another of his ridiculous

 rounds of the underside of Vermithor, leaving her standing there,

 beginning to shiver despite the layers of clothing she was bundled in.

 In the distance she could see torches streaming out of the gates of

 the small castle, no doubt riders coming to her and the landed

 dragon.

Hugh appeared at her side after he had finished whatever he had

 been doing under his dragon and he just stood there, standing

 insufferably close to her mind, what did he think he was, her sworn

 sword?

 Eventually the party from the castle arrived and the usual

 pleasantries and greeting exchanged. She was whisked straight to

 the castle and given the quarters of the Lord of Saltpans, one Ethon

 Cox. The Lord was old and widowed, and his two eldest sons were

 away at war, leaving him with just a daughter of about her age and a

 son of about ten years.

 The keep was small and spartan, but at least a bath had been drawn

 for her and a hand maiden assisted her get dressed afterwards, her

 things having been delivered to her room from Vermithor's

 saddlebags.

 Despite being bone tired a small feast had been put on and she of

 course had to attend and be seated at the high table as guest of

 honour, to the right of Lord Cox. The old lord was pleasant enough in

 conversation, not too fawning nor intrusive, the same could not be

 said for his daughter who was being none too subtle about asking for

 a place as a lady in waiting in her retinue.

 Ser Hugh was down on the floor of the hall, sitting with the

 Household Knights of House Cox, in this case what looked like

 several grey beards who were obviously too old to take to the field.

 The dragonrider was dressed in rather plain garb, certainly not

 sufficient for his status as a knight, or a dragonrider, and especially

 not as someone who was escorting a Princess back to Kings

 Landing!

 He was tucking into the fare before him and drinking from a large

 tankard of what was probably ale, conversing now and then with his

 companions at the table. She tried a trick that she had learned in the

 Eyrie, keeping her eyes on Hugh until he would look up at her, then

 she would immediately shift her gaze elsewhere. But after the first

time she played that trick he ignored all her subsequent attempts to

 catch his eye, and she gave up in frustration.

 Once the meal was over she made her excuses, announcing that

 she was very tired and that she and her 'dragon knight' as she

 decided to call Hugh, would be leaving early tomorrow morning, the

 weather permitting.

 The next morning was drizzling and cold, but Hugh decided that it

 was good enough for flying, so that after they broke their fast they

 were off again on Vermithor's back, leaving Saltpans behind along

 with the frustrated ambitions of a rather plain looking minor Lords

 daughter.

 They flew much lower this time, below the cloud and were only

 troubled by the odd shower of rain, but as the approached Sow's

 Horn the rain began to fall in great sheets, drenching her despite the

 oilskin and her clothing.

 Sow's Horn was an even smaller keep that that of House Cox of the

 Saltpans, being nothing more that a glorified tower house and was

 home to House Hogg. Thankfully Hugh landed Vermithor almost on

 top of the building, she could not bring herself to call it a keep, and

 after the usual round of greetings she was once again whisked off to

 the rooms of the Lord, where she would spend the night. Again, a

 bath and a change of clothes were provided and again a feast was

 laid on, the great hall of Sow's Horn was to her mind barely

 deserving of such a title, but nevertheless the household and the

 Lord's vassals were crammed into it.

 Over the noise and the hubbub, she asked about Ser Hugh, for she

 did not see him seated in the room.

 "Oh, him, he's eating in the servants' quarters, best place for him!"

 guffawed the fat and rather disgusting Lord of Sow's Horn, Lord

 Markas Hogg.

Rhaena did not know why, but that comment insulted and annoyed

 her, but before she could say anymore Lord Hogg was busy toasting

 her and her father Prince Daemon, and she let this insult slip from

 her mind. Again, she went to bed as early as was polite, and judging

 from how drunk Lord Hogg was, it was probably a good thing too.

 The morning dawned clearer but more blustery and soon they were

 on their way again, following the Kings Road southwards, until by

 early evening they were flying over the walls of Kings Landing.

 Rhaena had slept most of the way, and instead of landing at the

 Dragonpit he had delivered her direct to the Red Keep, Vermithor

 and Hugh taking off again once she had alighted and her bags and

 baggage were removed. She briefly met with her father, who greeted

 her and hushed her off to bed, saying that she was to attend court

 the next day.

 She luxuriated in sleeping in the quarters assigned to her in the Red

 Keep, and she slept the sleep of the dead until woken up by maids

 the next morning. She was bathed and her hair was done up into a

 court style, a dress of what was the latest court fashion according to

 one of the maids was draped around her, a grey silk dress, patterned

 with blue flowers, the underdress was of a light woolen cloth to

 provide sufficient warmth now that winter was settling in. The

 underdress was fitted and tight, its sleeves hugged close to her arms

 almost to her wrists, the silken over dress had he typical wide

 sleeves that had long been a feature of court fashion.

 Once prepared she broke her fast, bread, cheese, and smoked

 meat, along with a glass of small beer, but for some reason her

 tummy was unsettled, and she could eat only very little of this fare.

 Arriving at court she took her assigned place and waited for her

 father to arrive, he was now the Regent to the King, Aegon the

 Second her half brother and it suddenly dawned on her why she had

 been brought back to Kings Landing. Her father was going to betroth

 her to the boy, that was what he was going to do, and her heart

 quailed at the thoughts of this, to be betrothed to a, a child!

And she a flowered maiden, ready for marriage, and she would be

 forced to wait how many years to be married? Though she would be

 Queen, there was that to consider, but the boy was ten, and she was

 ten and four, far too old for him! As her mind ruminated on this her

 father entered the Throne room, resplendent in scarlet and black,

 and as everyone knelt he mounted the Iron Throne like he was born

 to it, seating himself comfortably upon it.

 He began speaking, mainly about the war and its progress, then he

 moved on to other matters, what sounded to her like mundane

 courtly business, and she ignored her father's voice, returning to

 ponder her soon to be betrothal, and probably marriage. For she did

 not think her father would delay matters given that fact that there

 was a war on.

 Thankfully her mind was not so occupied that she missed the

 sudden change in atmosphere, and she concentrated on the Throne

 room once again.

 Her father was reading out something from a scroll and, and was

 that Hugh kneeling at the foot of the Iron Throne? It was, and did she

 just hear that correct? She let her jaw fall in shock, her father, her

 father had just acknowledged Hugh as one of his bastards, and not

 only that, he, he had just legitimized Hugh as a Targaryen!

 Her fathers voice boomed out calling for her to approach the Iron

 Throne, which she did as if in a dream, a terrible fear gripping her

 insides, she came to a stop beside Hugh, who was at least finely

 dressed a part of her mind observed.

 "I have good news daughter mine, regarding your betrothal and

 marriage, I have decided on a suitable husband for your hand. And

 who better for your hand than my son, Prince Hugh Targaryen!"