GOTP Chapter 34

Velmir sat on the highest branch he could find. The old oak creaked under him. Below, the northern camp was already stirring, men shouting, horses snorting, wheels crunching over dirt as they made ready to move west.

He cocked his head. So the Young Wolf actually listened… or am I a fool for thinking he did?

Thoughts crowded his little brain, not neat, not long. Maybe Rhaenys said no. Maybe Robb did it himself. Maybe the world decided to laugh at him again. Whatever it was, it buzzed at the edges of him.

A voice heard from below. "Velmir!"

He froze, head jerking down. Rhaenys stood below, one hand on her hip, glaring straight at him. For a second, he blinked, genuinely confused how she found him. Then remembered he was literally sitting on top of the tallest, leafless tree in sight.

Right. Dumbass.

He pretended not to hear, looked away, maybe she'd give up. But her next call came sharper, laced with irritation."Velmir!"

That tone. He'd heard it before, always meant trouble.

He looked down again. 

She planted her feet and folded her arms. Don’t test me, her face said.

His brain started running the odds. Stay up here and maybe deal with it later. Go down and get scolded now. One more shout tipped the feathers.

He climbed down, wings half-open to keep his balance, landing a few feet from her.

Rhaenys stepped forward, closing the distance. He shrank his head low, pretending submission, but her hands caught his head anyway, gentle but firm. Her eyes didn't soften."What are you planning?"

He blinked. No answer. Just confusion in his golden eyes.

She sighed through her nose. "“Robb came to my tent this morning. Care to know what words he brought me?"

He shook his head fast. Of course he didn't. He'd been hunting, chasing some poor hare to death. How would he know what the Stark boy said?

Rhaenys narrowed her eyes. "Do not jest with me, Vel. Just forget what I said last time." Then, her voice eased, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I’d almost forgotten you could think for yourself."

Something warmed inside him at that. Rae, you were always my best interest. Why doubt me? He kept it to himself.

She turned away, maybe tired, maybe pretending not to notice. "We're leaving," she said.

His head snapped up. Leaving?

Rhaenys caught his reaction, brows lifting. "What? You've gone attached to the boy now?"

He didn't like that tone. Didn't like how easily she dismissed it. Still, he said nothing. Instead, he dipped his claw in the mud and started scratching. The letters were rough, uneven but readable.

The boy will die.

She read it once, and her face stayed calm. Too calm. "Let him," she said, already turning away.

Velmir moved fast, blocking her path. Wings half-open, his body low, eyes sharp.

Rhaenys stopped. "What?"

He stared at her.

“It isn’t our war,” she said, voice low, her eyes still on the camp. “He’s made his choice.”
She paused, then added, almost to herself, “And I’ve made mine.”

For the first time, Velmir noticed something new in her eyes - something cold, bright, and hungry. Ambition. The kind that didn’t belong to a girl who’d once wept under his wings. Right, no longer that girl. She had grown.

And all these years…

He thought coming back to Westeros had been his choice, never hers. His idea. His guilt driving him. His need for revenge, for the blood he’d never seen. But looking at her now, standing with new conviction and resolve, he realized he’d been blind to all of it.

He looked away, claws twitching. It hit him then, he'd brought her back to Westeros to ease her pain, to end the ghosts that haunted her, not to turn her into something darker. And somehow, he’d failed to see it happening.

Rhaenys, though, didn’t look back. She walked away toward the tents, her black cloak dragging in the mud, her head high.

Velmir stayed where he was, wings folded tight, watching her fade into the camp. For the first time, he wondered what kind of queen she’d turn into. If the Iron Throne was what she wanted… would she really change anything? Or just end up another name playing game of thrones? Hard to tell. Harder to hope.

One thing, though. He’d make damn sure she didn’t get hurt. Never.

His gaze dropped to Robb’s camp below. Fires still burning, men moving like they believed tomorrow mattered. He almost pitied them. He’d wanted the boy to win once, believed he could. Now, with Rhaenys set on her path, that wish felt useless. The war wasn’t his anymore.

He turned his head away. Sorry, Stark. You’re on your own now.