Chapter 58

Chapter 58

ALICENT HIGHTOWER

Alicent found herself sitting inside the Royal Booth once more, haunted by the memories of the place just from the debacle that had taken place infront of her a few moons ago, as the sounds of metal clashing against metal and knights screaming in pain and agony, roared through the air.

The wedding festivities of Princess Rhaenyra's were coming to a close as the final day of the Tourney approached. The Seven day tournament was set to come to a close, and though the ground cheered and celebrated as men savaged each other Alicent couldn't help but feel anxious.

An ominous feeling built up in her gut as she sat there beside the newlywed, scratching at her thumb as she would in her youth.

"What worries you, my lady?" another voice interrupted her racing mind, forcing her to look up as she found the Lady of the Vale beside her, much like she would during this whole week, the brown-haired Maiden of the Vale had decided to stick herself by her side, throughout her visit, something which she didn't mind if she didn't continuously hint at wishing to take her to her bed.

She was aware of the woman's preference for the same gender and didn't judge her for it, and though she found her very flattered by her interest, she couldn't find it in herself to succumb to such temptations, no matter how tempting they had once seemed.

"Nothing, my lady," she replied with a smile, a lie, which the woman was quick to catch on.

Besides her interest in her, the maiden of the Vale was a good conversational partner, her political acumen amongst the highest in the realm, and she found herself to be a rather sharp-witted person, highlighted by her next words as the woman's hands reached for hers, stopping her from scratching her thumb.

"I would believe you if you hadn't made a mess of your beautiful appendage," she said as she raised it up and blew on it gently. Her soft hands caressed the reddened skin as she shook her head.

"I had hoped that in the week we have been together, you must have come to see me as a friend at least," she complained in a hurtful tone as Alicent shook her head.

"Of course, I consider you a friend, my lady," she quickly replied as she smiled, indulgently leaning forward.

"Then tell me what worries you?" she questioned again, and her lips thinned as she finally spoke up and divulged in her.

"It's about Aenys," she began and saw the Lady's eyes narrow.

"Aenys, the Prince," she began and she could see her mind racing as her eyes wondered throughout the booth.

"Though where exactly is the Prince, I believe I haven't seen him since the ball last night," she began.

"He is not here. He left early in the morning in a hurry and flew away on his dragon," she told her and saw her eyes narrow, those blue orbs narrowing as her mind raced.

And then she saw them widen, as her hands stiffened.

"Today is..." she gasped out, and Alicent realized that she had realized just what today was.

"Yes, today is also the wedding day of Prince Daemon and Lady Lanea," she finished in a whisper and saw the Lady of the Vale bob her head.

"Yes, I remember hearing about it as well, yet for some reason, because of the ongoing festivities, it escaped my mind," she gasped out.

"Yes, though I must say you aren't the only one," she replied as she looked around the booth and then into the stands where the various lords sat cheering on as Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard swung his morning star and finished off another one of his opponents.

"The whole city behaves as if they have forgotten about it. Everyone has been mum on it as if pretending to ignore it all even though the tension is enough that I can almost touch it," Alicent began, and the answer came rather quickly.

"Of course, they are like that," and her head snapped towards the blue-eyed woman with a frown, not getting her point as she continued.

"I am afraid you have missed the message, though I am not surprised. After all, you were never the designated audience for it," she began, making her frown.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned as Lady Jeyne turned away from her and looked towards the stands, where the other lords sat.

"A message was sent to the lords, not in the writing of course, but the intent was made quite clear from Aenys's side, that there was no more dilly-dallying, that there would be no more what ifs and what not. The lords were made to make a choice or suffer consequences," she said as she turned towards her.

"Dire consequences!" and her eyes widened as she realized the intent behind all this.

"So, that means..."

"Yes, the lords don't speak a word, for they have chosen their side, and the rest well...." her voice dipped down as the crowd cheered for the victory of Ser Criston Cole.

"...may the Gods have mercy on them!"

And then it happened, and her heart nearly sunk down as she heard the sound of a dragon's screeching roar, one filled with pain agony and terror, as the noise died down and she prayed, she prayed to any God that may listen to her.

'Please keep him safe!'

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LAENOR VELARYON

Laenor Vealryon was the scion and heir of an empire that could count its history to times before the Doom of Valyria. Born into a house with such history, into times which many called the most prosperous age of their House, would be considered a blessing by many.

Yet it was not all that simple. Though maybe once it had been. And not so many years ago, yet even then there had always been a certain hint of tension looming over him and his family. The shadow of the Great Council, hung over them all, an insult, a choice made by the Great Lords of the realm that loomed over the ancient House's reputation.

And just as the scar from that perceived insult was set to heal, they were denied once more as the King on the throne would reject a match between their two houses. For him, and his sister it was a blessing, he had little interest in Courtly politics, and grandeur and knew that neither did Laena who had become tamer after her brush with death yet still harboured that desire and yearning for adventure.

Yet it was an insult too much for his father. For the famous Corlys Vealryon, the man who had ventured into the Sea and enriched their once-impoverished House, the denial of the match was an insult to many. His pride, once wounded by the decision of the Great Council, couldn't take another bruise, and so he found himself in the Stepstones, on the greatest island with a hotchpotch of gathered lords and knights as they sat there seated for a wedding.

The mood was sombre, the gathered lords numbered few, much less than the ones that had gathered in the capital few weeks prior for the wedding of Princess Rhaenyra, he could tell his father was affected by that yet the man was too proud to show it, too proud to rectify his mistake.

They sat under the open sky by the shores as the castle around was yet to be finished. Massive tents had been set up for the occasion, and the wedding was set to take place in an event in terms of Targaryen and Velaryon traditions.

"The Prince seems happy," Joffrey commented from the side, as they sat on the table towards the side; as the cause of all this distress and disturbance, the Rogue Prince joked and japed with his lickspittles in the centre.

"I don't think so," he added as he didn't miss how his eyes would dart across the gathering,taking account of those gathered, going over the sigils, and from the short twitch in his fingers, he could tell he was disappointed and insulted.

"Maybe you are right," Joffrey added once as his blue eyes focused on the Prince.

"The mood is absolutely killing, it looks nothing like a wedding," he added and Laenor's fists balled up.

"Because it is not one, it's a mistake, a Seven damned mistake," he said through gritted teeth as his dear friend's eyes turned towards him.

"Your sister is marrying a Prince and is set to be a Queen. And you call this a mistake?" he teased, and Laenor should have been offended, and he was, yet not at the man but at his dear friend's innocence.

How sweet and innocent of him. Yet Lonmouth had ever only focused on him, and even now his fingers wrapped around his as their eyes met, yet Laenor could feel none of the love and affection bubble inside him.

It's your fault. A voice rang inside him. All your fault.

And it lingered on until he couldn't take it as he pulled back his hand, surprising Joffrey, and pushed back his chair.

"I have to go," he said as he rounded off and saw Joffrey's hurt expression.

"What happened, Laenor? Is it something...." but he couldn't listen as he rounded off and began to walk away. He didn't miss the lingering gazes of the lords and the Prince as he walked out of the massive tent. He would get an earful for it from his father later but damn it all.

And damn him as well.

This was not a wedding, it was a funeral of their family, yet the man seemed blind to it like a damned fool.

All your fault! All your fault!

The whispers continued to linger as he came to a halt outside the tent, breathing hard as he let the cool air from the shore wash over him.

All your fault! All your fault!

And it all truly was. If he wasn't the way he was, this wouldn't have happened. It wouldn't have been his sister who would have had to make the sacrifice. His family could still have been together.

It truly was his fault. It truly was. Only if they hadn't gotten caught that night, only if he still had Seasmoke with him rather than it being locked somewhere on High Tide. Yet it was all futile now, futil...

"Brother," a sweet voice interrupted his inner ramblings and his snapped back as he found his sister standing there, dressed in a fine Gown of their House colors her unruly hair braded into the shape of a crown decorated with blue glowing gems.

"Laena," he called out as their eyes met, hers swollen and sombre much like his own, and it broke him as he stared into them.

They both stood there face to face, him lost for words until she spoke up once more, this time to her lady in waiting.

"Leave us," she said, and with her whisper, the horde of ladies surrounding her curtsied and dithered away leaving him alone with her for the first time since that night all those moons ago.

"I am sorry," were the first words that came out of his mouth as his gaze lowered, his fists balling up at his own helplessness.

She should have slapped him, shouted at him as she inched closer and despite his wishes wrapped her arms around him and enveloped him in a hug.

"You dint have to be," she whispered as his lips quivered, her voice soft and warmth, yet it filled him further with guilt.

"But I do," he said as he pushed her way.

"If only I were normal and not this abomination, all this could have been..." he began, but she cut her off.

"It doesn't matter, little brother," she cut in as she cupped his face.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You are blameless for this. We both are," she said as she looked to the side and towards their father, who sat beside the Prince and conversed with a few lords.

"Moreover, I am yet to walk down that isle," she said and he didn't miss how her eyes narrowed at those words, and her face hardened.

It was defiance.

"What do you mean?" he questioned, and then she looked him in the eye, and he believed he saw a semblance of mischief in her eyes, similar to when she would decide to prank the staff at High Tide in their youth, as she answered.

"You will see."

And before he could pester her to elaborate, the whole gathering was disturbed by a deafening roar.

ROARRR!

It was pretty common, though, for Prince Daemon's Ceraxes to roosted on the island as well. Yet this roar was different as he looked into the sky. Many had not recognised it, yet he had. For he had grown up hearing it all his childhood.

And then he watched as a figure descended on the island, blocking the Sun and casting a shadow over them as it flew right over them, roaring once more with all its might.

"ROAR!" the island shook as the guests began to rush out, recognizing the disturbance, led by his father, who seemed to have paled a bit at the Dragon's coloring.

For he would have recognized that roar as well.

The massive dragon circled them once before it crashed down onto the hard island surface right in front of them, acting as a wall between them and their father.

Murmurs began to bubble amongst the crowd as they recognised the glorious Red Queen, Melees for they had been told that the Princess was in no state to travel for the wedding owing to an illness.

Yet here was Meleys, the Red Queen, with its rider atop it. The Queen Who Never Was, and she was not dressed for a wedding.

She was dressed for war.

She saw him glance towards them, her gaze softening slightly at the sight of two of them.

"My dear wife," the voice of their father rang out, and he saw her expression shift. Gone was the care and her face became cold as ice as she turned away from them and looked towards the infamous Lord Corlys Velaryon and snarled.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL ME THAT!"

And it was as if her dragon understood her emotions as it opened its giant of a maw and snarled once more, bellowing out a deafening roar that shook the whole island.

"What is the meaning of this cousin Rhaenys?" came another voice, this one much more dreadful and icy, as Prince Daemon stepped forward from the crowd, flushed and enraged.

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~AND NOW IT BEGINS!~