Soup Sundown

'Damned is he who is lost in the sauce.'

- 'The Early Musings of Prince Rhaenar' by Brien Flowers

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It was late afternoon in King's Landing, the orange sun casting its glow against bruised skies.

From the northern wall of the Red Keep, Rhaenar faced his foe, sweat dripping from his nose. To his left, the countryside and ocean lay in the far-off distance. Hills and waves rolling.

Sari Sicai raised his sword at the prince, "Again."

Whoosh!

Rhaenar closed the distance and planted his foot firmly.

In an instant, his sword swung in a violent blur. Sari stepped back and dodged easily. 

The onslaught continued. Sari deftly stepped back with perfect grace and balance at every swing of Rhaenar's sword. 

The whole display would have impressed any onlooker. Rhaenar attacked with a fury unseen in the training yard.

Eventually, the added weight of the training swords brought Rhaenar to a halt with a huff and puff and a take me home now.

"Huff… Stand and exchange, coward," Rhaenar tried to goad.

Sari smirked, "Nice try. It's not like when you were young. If I gotta block your strikes all day, I'll end with a sore wrist."

"It's no wonder you remain undefeated," Rhaenar said, "You can run your foe to boredom."

Sari paid the sass no mind. He rested his sword on his shoulder.

"You're good. Better than most of the twats I've seen come and go around here. Do you want to know why I'm still that much better than you?"

Rhaenar rolled his eyes. Doubtless, he would be lectured regardless. 

"Because I'm weighed down by my massive balls?"

Sari sighed, "Your style is all wrong. I saw it all the time back in Meereen. Slaves get taught every way to fight under the sun, from the footwork of a Braavosi water dancer to the mounted combat of a Dothraki screamer. Like throwing all the shit they can at you to see what sticks. Some might have the talent for one way of fighting. Others have several. Then you get the gods of the arena that master everything."

Rhaenar chuckled, "Like you, I presume."

"You're damn right," Sari said, "But it's not because I knew how to fight perfectly in each different way. It was more like I could put all them ways into a pot. However I cooked it, the soup came out perfect."

Rhaenar soured, "You've drilled me in all kinds of discipline. We are of the same ingredients. How is it there is still such a gap between us?"

"'Cause your balance is fucked," Sari laughed, "My soup is different from yours. Every soup is different. The problem right now is that you still move too much like a knight."

It finally made sense to Rhaenar. His initial tutelage under the legendary Ser Ryam Redwyne was like a stock that overpowered the overall recipe. 

"Less knight, more flight," Rhaenar said, "Got it. I guess old habits die hard." 

"My habits make it hard to die," Sari quipped, "Don't beat yourself up, lad. You're well on your way. It's just that on the unlikely occasion you come across a mad cunt like me, your princely arse will be dead as roast chicken."

Rhaenar smiled at that. Sari had softened toward him over the years. It was nice that these days, Sari would offer compliments and reassurance.

"As you say," Rhaenar said. Then his stomach rumbled. "Hmm. All this soup talk has got me hungry."

The two wiped the sweat from their brows and convened where they left a barrel of water. They opened it and, with long ladles, dipped into the glorious hydration.

It was at that point when Princess Rhaenyra and Alicent Hightower found them. It was close to sundown, so dark shadows cast on the edged lines on Rhaenar's abs.

Rhaenyra's eyes dilated as she watched her brother drink from that ladle, his head tilted high, cheekbones accentuated.

She felt a tingle at the base of her spine. For a moment, she stood there and gawked as the water dribbled from the side of his mouth, down his neck, over the sharp lines of his chest, past his chiseled abs. 

Her lips parted.

Only when the water got to his lower stomach and soaked into the band of his trousers did Rhaenyra come to her senses.

"T-There you are, brother," she said, almost sheepish because she did not know how much time she was deep in her trance. "We've been looking for you."

Rhaenar dropped the ladle into the barrel and smiled, "Evidently so," he said.

Then he glanced at Alicent, "Good day, my lady."

Alicent fiddled with her fingers as she bent a slight curtsy, "Good day, my prince."

Rhaenar regarded the two maidens before him.

Alicent wore her mother's red dress. Rhaenar thought she made the right choice. This dress covered her shoulders, perfect for evening temperatures. 

Rhaenyra, meanwhile, was in riding gear, gloves and all, a tight-fitting black with hues of red clinging to her body. Quite the tomboy.

"I was going for a ride," Rhaenyra said, "Might you join me?"

Rhaenar shook his head, "I'll pass. Bad combo, the cold air and all this sweat."

He nearly winced as he noticed the hope drain from his sister's expression.

Despite her skill at concealing her disappointment, the slight slump of her shoulders betrayed her.

The golden glow of sundown reflected from her eyes like a lilac gem. Rhaenar got lost in them, captivated and inspired to paint. 

Then, he glanced upward and noticed the absence of cloud.

"That doesn't mean we can't do something," Rhaenar said, "Looks like it will be a beautiful night. How about we start a fire here and watch the sunset? We could stay and catch the stars. I can't remember the last time I did that."

As if touched by magic, Rhaenyra radiated with excitement at the idea. 

In an instant, life surged back into her, her complexion warmer. Her essence pulsated with newfound vitality.

"Really?" she said with dreamy eyes.

"Fuck yeah!" Rhaenar said. The whole night appeared before him. "We'll get some wine and sausages. I can get the lute and play us some camp fire songs. It'll be great!"

Rhaenyra could not contain herself, "That sounds perfect!"

Alicent looked at the ground and picked at her fingernails. Fear of missing out wrenching in her stomach.

"Well, my lady," Rhaenar said to her, "What are you waiting for? Go and tell your father that you're booked for the night!"

Alicent glanced up and saw Rhaenar and Rhaenyra joined at the hip, arms around each other's waists, the other arm extended, beckoning her to hurry back and join the group hug.

Heat flooded Alicent's cheeks,

"I'll be right back!"