Hey guys! Another little update. This is the first official chapter. Below is a cast list of all accepted characters:
Targaryen
King Rhaegon Targaryen II (48) - Myself
Queen Vysella Targaryen (48) - Myself
Prince Draegor Targaryen (23) - Seraphius
Prince Aeron Targaryen (21) - Myself
Princess Laena Targaryen (19) - Lacie Castaigne
Prince Viserys Targaryen (18) - Shin Alter
Ser Richard Dayne (24) - Kingsguard - BlaketheEpicArgonian
Ser Mikal Drake (25) - Kingsguard - .167
Baratheon
Lord Rylon Baratheon (54) - Hand of the King - Myself
Lady Haylise Baratheon (20) - Lady at court - Lacie Castaigne
Ayric Dondarrian (48) - Maester of Storm's End - BlaketheEpicArgonian
Tyrell
Lady Ashriel Tyrell (16) - Handmaiden in King's Landing - lacrimanightmare
Lady Deltyh Tyrell (15) - Lady at Highgarden - nevershout
Lannister
Lady Lyra Lannister (18) - Lady at Casterly Rock - taako
Bolton
Raff Bolton (21) - Lord at the Dreadfort - BlaketheEpicArgonian
Across the narrow sea...
Finn Snow (20) - Myself
Rylon Baratheon – King's Landing
King Rhaegon II of House Targaryen had never truly been a great man. Full of bluster and fury, he had fed many men to his dragon, Vigaron. As a younger man, Rhaegon had been quite strapping, his beautiful silver hair flowing in the wind, piercing violet eyes that made many maids swoon in a second. I still remember the look of disappointment on the faces of many women when it was announced that he was to take his sister, Vysella, for his bride.
Vysella had often been calm and level-headed, unlike her brother. But, Targaryens are cursed with a tendency for the extremes. I remember her screaming at the Septa to stay away from her daughter after the incident; A maid had set fire to the Princess Laena's bed while she slept. Laena survived, if only by the grace of Maester Godwin's skill as a healer. Though, she would carry the scars for the rest of her life. To this day, Vysella had always insisted on teaching her daughter herself. I suppose, it is only natural for a mother to be this way. Since that day, Vysella had been more of a lioness than any Lannister alive today.
I looked at Rhaegon's body. Weak. Frail. Old. We were all old now. Lord Arryn in the Vale could not hear anything quieter than a shout, Lord Tyrell in the Reach would not walk without a cane… But Rhaegon's skin was paler than ever – I could see the skin loosely hanging to his veins like tarps on a line. The wrinkles around his lips set in deeply. The man was not yet fifty, but he came to resemble the corpse of his father.
"I'm afraid there is no improvement, Lord Hand," Maester Godwin sighed, setting down his instruments and remedies on the desk by the window, "though the sickness has not yet spread to his head."
"But, it will?"
"Hard to say at this time…" Maester Godwin turned back to the body, his hands resting gently on his instruments, "but, I fear, it will make no difference."
I looked to Ser Mikal, who stood watch by the King's bedchambers. The man clearly assumed I had done this to spite him – I could see it in his sapphire and emerald eyes, how his hand gripped the hilt of his blade.
"Leave us." I instructed him. I waited for Ser Mikal to bow his head and exit before facing Maester Godwin. "The King will die soon?" I asked in a low whisper.
"Almost certainly."
"When?"
Maester Godwin turned back to the body, brows furrowed, "Difficult to say, really… within the month, I'd estimate."
"A month…" I rubbed my forehead.
"If I could advise my Lord Hand?" I nodded. "Have Draegor sit on the Small Council in place of his father. Have him learn how to rule – he may not be able to swing a sword, but he may be a new sort of king. A type that is wise and fair…"
"You think I haven't asked him? The boy sits in his room, and listens to no-one. Not I, not Viserys, not Laena…" I shook my head.
"Perhaps I could talk to him, my lord-"
"No… you will assemble healers to aid you in the King's recovery."
"Recovery? My Lord…"
"There are Six Kingdoms ruled by this man!" I hissed. "Six! The North is torn apart, fighting each other, the Iron Islands attacking the Westerlands, the hill tribes attack the Vale daily, my own men are in the Stormlands, keeping the Dornish bastards at bay, and you would have me parade a blind man around, telling all that our King is dying?" I shook my head, "I need time to settle these qualms. If there is any sign of weakness, one Kingdom will turn away from the Crown, and if one kingdom does so…"
"Draegor's blindness is not a weakness, my Lord Hand."
"When I want your advice, I will damned well ask for it!" I turned around, and barged through the door, letting it slam into Ser Mikal as I strode down the stone corridors. Damned fool! Blasted idiot! I have been Lord Hand for twenty years. I know more about running the Kingdom than some damned Valeman.
Laena Targaryen – King's Landing
"Rylon can be such an idiot sometimes," I muttered, "I don't know why I'm meant to be there – I'm not the one getting married!"
"You are gaining a sister, Your Grace." Ashriel murmured, plaiting my hair.
"A Baratheon sister," I scoffed, "At least in this big parties it's easy to slip away."
"Your Grace?"
I held Ashriel's hand, and turned to face her: She was a short, girl – sinuous – with dark black hair weaving down past her shoulders like the golden vines on her dress. Those eyes – those golden eyes, wide and trusting. Her face, sculpted like a heart… I couldn't help but run my hand down her cheek, feeling the smooth skin. I wished that this was my reflection. Not the hideous monster I saw in the mirror every morning, with that scalded skin on the right side of my face and neck, skin seared like pork. That patch by my ear I had to cover with plaits every day…
I hated my face.
"At parties with lots of people, they're paying attention to different things."
"But, you're the Princess. Lots of people will be paying attention to you, surely?"
"Not in the way you'd think," I glanced back to the mirror, examining the horrific figure that stared back at me with her violet eyes. "But, I'm sure you can use this to find yourself a husband. Perhaps a…" I looked down at her body. Still yet to have an ample bosom, or a radiant face, "fourth-born? Or, perhaps a Northerner?"
Ashriel smiled and nodded. Not enthusiastically though – Ashriel wasn't a good liar. She spent far too much time burying her little button nose in great big tomes. Usually to do with my family. I picked up my cup of Arbor gold, sipping it as I allowed Ashriel to continue plaiting my hair.
"Do you think she's pretty?" Ashriel asked perculiarly. I say perculiarly, because she sounded so unconcerned, yet she must have been in deep thought about this. Since, after all, she said 'her'.
"Whom?"
"Lady Baratheon."
"…Oh, Haylise?" I asked. "I've never met her. Haylise the Ruined…" I couldn't help but chuckle, "The Lady of Whores – did you know people call her that?"
"No, Your Grace."
"Apparently she's quite the high-born harlot," I informed her, "lost her maidenhead at fourteen to a Storm."
"A Storm?" Ashriel looked down to me.
"A Bastard from the Stormlands."
"I hadn't heard of him being a Storm before."
"Oh yes!" I poured another cup of wine, handing it to Ashriel and staring at her until she drank. Ashriel never drank, so when I made her take a cup of wine with me, it was always great fun. "Well, I mean, Vyla Buckwell told me that he was a Bastard, and it does make it a better story, doesn't it?" I waited until Ashriel had finished taking a sip before filling her cup again. "Have you ever lay with a man?"
Ashriel choked on her wine, "No. No, Your Grace, I don't…"
"Calm yourself, Little Owl," I laughed at her wide eyes, "You don't have to answer me." Ashriel chose not to, and simply drank from her cup of wine. That was enough of an answer for me. I rose from my chair and took the wine from her, placing it on the table. "Come, let's find Viserys."
Ashriel's eyes glimmered as we began to leave my chambers. It wouldn't take long to find Viserys – he was always training with his sword at this time. As the second son, it was common knowledge Viserys was to rule in Dragonstone. However, if you asked Viserys, he longed for a life as a Knight, or a general. It was possible that he could be a general in a time of war, representing the crown, but we weren't at war with anyone. True, there were the petty squabbles in the North between Stark and Bolton, and the Ironborn bastards raided the Westerlands, but we weren't at war with anyone.
Ashriel and I came to the courtyard, where we found Viserys with his sword, sparring against Ser Richard Dayne. Ser Richard was handsome, with warm features and dark Dornish skin. He and Viserys both took a moment's respite to share a cup of wine and laugh together as they began to discuss the training.
"…You always look where you're going to lunge." Ser Richard told my brother.
"Well, I have to see where I'm going."
"Use your eyes."
"I am – you can't see my eyes through the visor."
"No, but you turn your entire head."
Viserys grinned, pushing back his hair as he sipped on the wine. In doing so, he caught sight of Ashriel and I approaching. He gave the cup back to his squire and walked over to me.
"Laena?" He gave me a hug. "What are you doing here?"
"Watching Sir Richard best you, it seems." I walked past him to help myself to a cup of wine, "Dornish Red? Not the finest…" I smiled at Ser Richard, examining his groomed chestnut beard and dark eyes. Gods, Dornish men were so… exotic. That is, Ser Richard was, and he was the only Dornishman in King's Landing, I was sure.
"He's a fine teacher," Viserys turned to Ashriel, "My Lady." He bowed and kissed her hand, his head angling up to face her for a moment.
"I wanted to ask you about your wedding." I informed Viserys. His head dipped back down before he straightened up, rotating to face me.
"What about?"
"In a fortnight, you'll have a wife. Haylise Baratheon." I glanced an eye to Ashriel, "We've been coming up with names for her."
"You have?" Viserys looked back to Ashriel.
"If you'd wish to find a prettier bride, I'm sure I could talk to Rylon for you."
Viserys began to walk back to Ser Richard, "I will do my duty to our family." He stated, taking his sword from his squire.
"And I'm sure you will hate every second…" I didn't even try to hide my grin; Haylise Baratheon was said to be quite beautiful and wanton. "Though, we all know her reputation. Surely you would not want anyone to cast aspersions on your children's… legitimacy."
Viserys exhaled, looking to Ser Richard, "And here I was, thinking my big sister had outgrown her bullying of me."
"Speaking as a fellow third-born, Your Grace, some things do not change."
"Unless you're a prince, that's irrelevant," I shot Ser Richard a warning look before facing my brother again, "Viserys, I know you're not happy with this." I spoke lowly, careful so no-one else would hear me speak so plainly, "If you want a way out of this marriage, I promise I will help you."
Viserys gulped, furrowing his brow as he always did when he was in pain, just like when that pink scar across his eye was still healing. That scar – not so ugly and jarring as he believed it to be. It was a sign of bravery, a mark of a true warrior. His violet eyes settled behind me on the meek little Ashriel, who was watching us both intently, one hand clasping the other.
"This is what is required of us, Laena." Viserys stated. "What I want isn't what is best."
Viserys was a fool. Brave and noble, yes, but still a fool. He had a sense of honour and duty that matched the damned Starks, but he was just as foolish as the Northerners. Where had their honour got them? Into a war with the Boltons, the once-Red Kings. But, his mind was made up. There was little I could do to convince him to do what he truly wished to do.
"Then Ashriel and I shall take the air." I walked back to Ashriel, linking my arm in hers. "Come, we'll talk about finding you a husband."
Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.