Kitty didn't follow them on the spiralling steps, choosing to fly directly down through the large empty space in the middle, just to come up moments later, floating up with her wings fully open.
"See? That's one reason because I come here often. She loves to drop down and them ride this wind that always flows up."
"Yes I see. You really love that dragon, don't you?"
"Oh I do! She's my dragon, but I'm also hers. You know that my family has this... connection with the dragons. I feel that I can trust my life to her and... Why you're looking at me like this? Are you... jealous?"
Lalli reached a landing and turned to Emil. "Me? Jealous? Of that beast? No way! Not for an instant! I'm just trying again to understand why you keep doing stupid things like climbing the tallest tower..."
Emil began to laugh "Jealous! Don't try to deny it! You..." He was interrupted by Kitty, that passed by them at high speed, diving to the bottom.
"We shouldn't stop!" Said Lalli, returning to the descent. "I don't want to meet an angry Onni searching for you."
"Don't worry! I bet your cousin is sparring at the training grounds like every morning."
They descended a little faster anyway, while Kitty passed by two more times, up and down.
"See, Lalli?" Said Emil while Lalli grabbed the heavy iron lock to open the tower lower door. "No problem!"
Behind the door an angry looking Onni waited, dressed in the Kingsguard full armour. "You... I mean my prince! And my stupid cousin! What are you both doing here when the King awaits?" He bowed slightly toward Emil, just under the mandatory minimum.
"My good Sir Onni Swann!" Emil replied, his voice obviously nervous. "What a... pleasure to see you in this beautiful morning! Shouldn't you be at your daily sword practice? Or it would be spears today?"
"No, my prince, not today. Not when there's an important meeting to attend, and I am supposed to accompany and guard you, also making sure that you are present when demanded." And he grabbed Lalli by his shirt's collar, almost lifting him "As my dear cousin here should have made absolutely clear to you!"
At that moment Kitty landed on Emil's shoulder, hissing at a startled Onni, that in turn let Lalli go. Lalli turned to the dragon, that looked back pretty satisfied. "Err... Thanks." Kitty let go a short roar, surprisingly loud for such a small animal.
"I see that you got another important friend, cousin!" Onni said, turning again to Emil. "We must go. Everyone is probably waiting, and it's still a long walk to the Throne Room." He didn't wait for a reply, turning and walking fast across the courtyard on the tower base, one hand at the pommel of his sword.
Emil and Lalli followed as fast as they could. "Did you said Throne Room?" Asked Emil. "Isn't it a meeting of the Small Council? Those take place at the Tower of The Hand."
"There's more people present. " Onni replied, without stopping or turning his head. "Visitors, from Braavos. or so I've been told."
"What?" Emil exchanged looks with Lalli. "Have you seen the Braavosi, Onni? Is there any woman among them?"
This time the knight looked back, without slowing his pace. "A woman? Are you now interested on Braavosi women, my prince?" He said, looking first at Emil and then, for a bit longer, at Lalli, before continuing. "I've seen them arriving, and it looked like there are two women. One is their leader, tall and beautiful, but I'd say a bit old for your age." He was smiling.
Emil couldn't hide the anxiety on his voice. "And the other?"
"I was unable to see her. She wears a long hooded crimson mantle that hides her face. All I could see was her hair coming out of it."
There was silence through the rest of the walk across the many corridors, until they arrived at the impressively tall iron doors to the Throne Room, where two more knights on white armour stood, moving aside to let them pass.
Emil straightened his back and entered the large room, trying to look as much impassible and royal as possible to hide the anxiety that made him sweat under his cloak. He saw that Lalli and Onni had taken position on his sides, one step behind. Lalli, on the left, had closed his own cloak, fastened with a silver brooch depicting a swan, symbol of his house. Onni, on the other side, kept his right hand on the sword and an extremely serious face.
At the end of the large and tall room the iron throne awaited, occupied by his father, King Torolf, flanked by large chairs where his mother, Helga, and the Hand of the King, Lord Trond Lannister, sit. Trond's eyes where on Emil, while her mother talked something with Sir Magnus Arryn, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
The air inside the room was cold, and before reaching the middle Emil felt Kitty lifting from his shoulder. He tried not to raise his voice while calling back her. "Kitty, come back! Now!"
But that was, as he already knew, useless. The little dragon darted towards the throne, deviating in the last second before any one was able to react, and going around, close to the huge stained glass window behind.
Then she came back, roaring and flying close to the heads of the other members of the Small Council. His uncle Torbjörn covered aunt Siv with one arm, while Grand Maester Taru crouched and Admiral Olsen took a big jump back, hitting his chair, that fell with a loud crash. Only Lord Ukko-Pekka kept his composure, seemingly unaffected.
Kitty took another turn and headed to the other side of the room. Just then Emil noticed the visitors Onni mentioned. They retreated fast to the wall behind, leaving space for the young dragon to pass. She roared again, obviously happy with all the attention, and flew back to the throne, landing on the King's arm.
Torolf bend closer and whispered something to the dragon, that lift of, making two circles around the throne and finally perching on an iron rod that held a large brazier. Kitty, lit from below by the flames, opened her wings, let out another roar and crouched, enjoying the heat.
"They like it hot, our dragons." Said the King, turning his gaze towards Emil. "And you must learn to command her, son. We are..." he looked at the members of the Small Council. "...or should be, used to them, but our guests had all the right to be frightened."
Emil knew better than replying, or arguing, with his father on that moment, so he just bowed. "Forgive my delay, father. I hope it didn't offend you or any of our guests."
Torolf raised from the throne and walked towards the visitors. "Speaking of them, let me introduce our esteemed guests."
Only then Emil could properly observe the tall, beautiful woman that Onni mentioned. She had clear blue eyes, a strong but elegant nose and red hair, cut short, and was wearing a sea-green shirt, with matching pants, and some outrageously red knee-high boots.
"Lady Sigrun Antaryon, a niece of Braavos' Sealord. Also a renowned adventurer and, so I heard, an excellent water dancer, meaning bad luck to those fools that let themselves be deceived by her beauty."
Sigrun bowed to the King, and them to Emil, speaking with a strong Braavosi accent. "It's an honour meeting you, Prince Emil."
Somehow Emil felt that she wasn't used to those pleasantries, but was doing her best.
The King continued. "And by her side is Lord Mikkel Forel, a cartographer and lady Sigrun's adviser."
Mikkel was a massive, strong man, with a large face and blue eyes. He was all dressed in black leather and had golden hair that continued on both sides of his face, creating the largest whiskers Emil had ever seen.
"I beg the King's pardon, but I'm no Lord, just a curious man that spent too much time around books and maps." Mikkel said, turning to Emil. "A pleasure to meet you, Prince."
Emil was getting more and more nervous, sweating so much that he would surely have to take a bath after leaving the room. It was all clear. These were a delegation sent by the Sealord of Braavos, and they have been scheming a betrothal with his father. The woman in the crimson mantle was to be his bride! And she was taller than he! Maybe even Lady Sigrun's sister, taking by that long red braid... And why she hid her face? What if she's ugly? But how, being her sister? Well, perhaps..." He couldn't think straight, his heart beating so strong that he imagined everyone would be able to hear it. Well, not everyone, but Kitty surely sensed his distress and left the brazier, landing a second later on Emil's shoulder. His claws were scorching hot, raising smoke from his cloak! Emil was sure they would leave a painful burn weren't him a Targaryen.
The King observed all that with a smile. "You probably noticed our third guest, my son. This is Reynir Vhassar, a priest of the Lord of Light."
Long, delicate hands pushed back the crimson hood, allowing Emil to see a beautiful figure, with red hair, lots of freckles and intense green eyes.
"I feel honoured, Prince. May the fire that burns inside you remain strong for a very long time."
That voice... "A man..." These words escaped Emil's lips before he was able to stop them.
"Indeed, honourable prince. I'm aware that most R'llhor servants are women, but the Red God only cares for the fire burning inside every person, and that fire is the same, women or men."
Emil took a long breath and looked over his shoulder to Lalli, that he could swear had a small smile on his lips. He turned back to the priest and nodded. "That long braid led me to think... you know."
"Yes, Prince, that happens a lot." Reynir replied with a smile, taking the long braid on his hands. "It's an ancient family custom that I keep as a reminder of my home island, Lys."
"A beautiful custom, I'd say." There was something special about the priest, Emil thought. He was so... likeable! As if they have been friends for a long time.
The King sat back on the iron throne and hit the floor with his sceptre, commanding everybody's attention. "Son, I suppose you are wondering our guests motivation, and why I sent for you."
Emil let go the relief he felt by realizing there wasn't a marriage on the horizon and stood before Torolf, now more King than father.
The King raised his voice so everyone could hear well. "Now that you come of age it's time to serve the Realm, for the King and his family are as much servants as the poorest peasant, and with their stance and titles also comes a much greater responsibility."
Emil cringed inside. Nothing good could come ever from that speech.
"Therefore the Realm has a mission for you, a mission where you can show the full value of being a Targaryen."
A mission! Probably dangerous, surely far away. Emil already knew that being the fifth and youngest son made him almost expandable. He have heard the stories of the courageous deeds done by princes like him before, usually the ones that weren't the best positioned to inherit the throne. Some never returned...
He gulped before speaking. "May I ask what is the mission my King sees fit for his son?"
"Sure! you will love it!"
