THE CIRCLET CROWNS
Golden streaks fell on my face, illuminating the paleness of my skin, showering its sharp humidity in the air. The sea wind breeze was stringing melodic music, and I basked in the morning sunlight so delightedly that I wanted to curl up for some more time under the covers.
The sun, the brightness, the salt wind, the humidity were all beautiful in their own way.
The long painted windows opened into a porch facing a garden below. It appeared to be a paradise lying inside, hearing the ominous hoots of screeching owls and chirping birds.
I didn't want to wake up and face whatever was about to come of the day. A part of me was already tired of trying to reach the fruit that I may not get to taste. It would all end up in vain. Every dream of mine had shattered, and all that pending was nightmares to be discovered.
What madness had gotten into me to come here? What foolishness had made me demand my place here?
Ghost nuzzled her nose into my neck, tired of being locked up in the chamber. She had been distressed and panicked, and she howled the entire night, for even the slightest movement outside the chamber.
"What am I going to do with you?" I asked, my fingers curling along the snow fur of Ghost's mane. "You are going to bring trouble. Aren't you?"
Ghost cocked her head, as though if I had any right to ask such a question and she haughtily jumped away from my warm fingers that she often loved when I would curl it beneath her fur.
To my surprise, Mya, who was supposed to be sleeping next to me, entered the door. The raven-haired girl looked morose and brusque, a frown pasted on her mumbling lips before she found my bed-ruffled hair and managed very hard to gather a hint of a smile.
"Did the birds wake you up too, Lya?" She knelt to pet Ghost, who pranced hungrily around her fingers. "Nasty little buggers. Didn't let me sleep the whole night. Our Ghost could make a delicious meal out of them! Screeching, pooping, and spilling feathers all around the porch. I wish Ghost had some wings about her, to hunt those fat owls."
"Wouldn't that be lovely? Wings to fly," I pondered, moving towards the long mirror to do something about my tangled hair, before wondering about breakfast.
"Aye! I would fly back to the North. Else to the Eyrie."
I paused from picking at the fallen strands of my hair. There was a longing in the girl's voice, a tint of pain and anger bursting out through her skin. For all the days she'd whined about traveling, I didn't think it was to do anything more than merely disliking change of place.
Mya Stone was my friend. A good one. Unlike being with Sansa, where I had to pretend to be nice and lovely, I was more myself with Mya. It had always been fun to blubber non-sense and crass words without any care for propriety along with her. It hurt that I couldn't see what she was feeling until now.
"Mya" My voice slipped faintly.
"I never knew…" Her muffled voice was growing thick. "I mean, I should've…" She stared up at me. "I saw through my eyes how the Northerners hated you."
I flinched at the mere mention of it. It somehow ruffled my feathers. The vulnerability of being told of my weakness made me look pathetic, and I didn't want to look like a fool, even if it was in front of my dear friend.
"But I truly never thought it was this tough." She exasperated, not looking into my eyes. "You are made of tougher skin than me, Lya. I admit. You smiled all through it. Didn't you? It ain't matter if our fathers loved us or not. It ain't matter if we loved our fathers or not. It hurts like a bitch whenever someone speaks ill about our own flesh and blood. Doesn't it?"
My throat and stomach both ached at her confession.
I knew I should console her. I knew I should ask more about what had happened. That's what we were there for. To help each other and just be there when needed. But I was lost, and the pain of every insult and every assault washed over me as though opening a barricaded flood.
The worst was that none in my family had an idea of what I'd faced surviving in the North. The more I thought about my vicious family living a life of comfort in huge-castle, where men and women chaperoned their whims, my eagerness to prove myself worthy to them was already turning to ashes.
Mya looked as horrible as Ghost.
"How about we three go for a ride?"
That was the only consolation I could provide. That was what Jaime had taught me to do when I was so angry at this unjustified world.
"Now?" Mya enquired, the paleness of her face vanishing. "I mean, yes! Oh, Ser Jaime is not there to take us."
"Ser Jaime is not needed to take us." I countered, annoyed by the fact that she thought of me to be always pining on Jaime's help.
"Ooooh, I like this. We are breaking the rules. Should we take Lady Sansa too?"
"You are spoiling all the fun, Mya!" I glowered, and Mya rushed to the wooden crests, searching for garbs that would fit for a ride.
"Anyway, the lady is already dressed. You should see her complaining Jeyne Poole for not properly decorating her hair."
"It is early morning. Why would she be dressed already?"
"I don't know," Mya muttered before rushing to an adjacent chamber to change her clothes.
I thought of meeting Sansa, but my cousin would ruin all the plans. She practically worshiped the rule book that her mother and Septa wrote, and by the looks of it, Sansa should already be trying on her evening gown and would force me to do the same.
Besides, I didn't want to take Sansa on my adventure. It somehow didn't sit well with me. I wanted this to be my own journey, and I wanted to take all the blame if my father would condemn me. A vicious part of my head questioned if I was risking my name, manners, and safety just to be called off by my father. I shoved away that question, not ready to face it, and gave myself a moment of appreciation before we three took off towards the Red Keep's gate.
There was that thrill so similarly close to how I'd felt when I sat in Lord Darry's high seat and gave away judgment. The power to touch fire, without knowing if it was going to burn me or merely warm me. Evading Jory, who to my horror was guarding my chamber, we had picked destriers and pranced the city.
The moment Ghost left the gates, she had swirled into a mist of white fur along the cobblestoned road, terrifying the passersby who were shrieking for seeing a monster.
"Oh, no!" Mya moaned. "Ghost is gone. Lya, Ghost is in the city. This… this… is bad." She licked her lips. "Oh, stop smiling and go after her."
"Let her stretch her legs." I waved my hand.
"Stretch her legs? She terrified even Winterfell. These cowards will piss in their breeches. And anything bad that happens in the city will be coming back to you."
I hummed as we picked pace to march down the road, getting a good look at the hard-working Kingslanders, who were selling baked bread, stinky wine, and a few opening up their shops enclosed around dingy and deserted alleys.
There were a few eyes that didn't just notice the odd presence of two girls in men's garbs but kept following us on every turn. I didn't like being watched, followed, and goose prickles raised on my skin, for every second I felt exposed. Someone was tracking my movements. I wouldn't put it past men like Lord Jon Connington to monitor me just so to cut my throat.
I wanted to believe my father would not let his daughter be punished, but whatever I saw of him the previous day didn't give so much assurance.
We began roaming for an hour or so, and the streets started becoming busy, crowding with an odd mixture of sweat and scented oils. Mya vaguely pointed at various shops that sold all sorts of dresses, jewels, and even eerie animal skins, before I found a pair of gleaming ruby eyes, beckoning my presence with such intensity that I thought I might burn under it.
The eyes were the only visible part of what I saw through the dark window sills, and before I tried to get a grasp, loud snickering noises emerged out from the tilted building.
"Well, he truly fucked the witch." A man bellowed for all the world to hear, laughing like a maniac, as he slipped out of the long brass door, carefully flanked by a few Golden cloaks at his side.
I wanted to leave the odd place, not at all interested in another encounter with any of the gold cloaks, but when I found the man's shoulder-length hair a striking silver, my curiosity bided to me to wait and watch. He was tall, built like a warrior with dark purple eyes. I was sure Sansa would sing a song about him if she saw him.
I wondered if it was… if it could be my brother, Aegon Targaryen, the crown Prince. My deductions and thoughts crumbled down soon when he was followed by two more men, both having silver-gold hair, and all the three having high cheekbones, purple eyes, and undeniable charm in each of their handsome faces.
"Where is that pathetic loser?" The second one had a boring drawl, and he was taller than the rest. He was sipping wine in a goatskin bag, hair messed up and ruffled, boot laces untied, doublet strings carelessly tied, as though he had just awoken from the bed. By the looks of it, he did seem to have woken up from the bed, perhaps from a woman's bed.
My jaw dropped at the resemblance the man held with that of my father. There was no need for any confirmations. Even amongst the same skin-colored, and hair colored handsome men around him, his resemblance to my father, the authority in his bored voice, the ornaments made of ruby, gold, and gemstones shining on fingers, neck, and wrists, just screamed that he was the Prince.
"Has he run away, already?" The Prince questioned his companions, and they all laughed, amused. The entire city was watching them, but neither of them bothered or even seemed to care. "Craven!" He spat the wine and beckoned the guards with a wiggle of his fingers, who rushed to bring their horses. "Fuck a witch? Who does he think he challenges? Oh, don't forget to tell him how she screamed under my fingers."
That wasn't what I'd expected, nor was I looking for in a man who would rule the Seven Kingdoms. Somehow my eyes drifted above to the open window where there were a pair of ruby eyes looking down upon me sometime before. Was it that woman he was slandering about on the road?
"What did he wager with?" The first one asked.
"That he will let me fuck his sister." The Prince said with loathing. "Bartering one for what he took from me."
Everyone laughed, as though this was more amusing than the previous jape.
"Ah, Lya! That is—" Mya began, trying to bring her horse closer towards me.
"Yeah, I know. It is the Prince."
"Your family discover all strange ways to welcome you. Don't they?"
I snickered, but I wasn't going to be seen by him. He didn't seem to be someone I need to have any association with at all. I tried to steer from the path so that I would go unnoticed and I heard murmurs of disappointment from a few passersby, but hugely they were all amused to see one of the Royal members behaving like an unworthy idiot.
Aegon and his companions climbed on their beautiful destriers, and just when they were about to trot around the road, a stout old man, with only a few hairs on his head, who had opened his dusted sour wine shop, which I assumed to be some sort of drink for the folks who could not afford real wine, muttered something under his breath.
I couldn't hear it, but I was sure it was not something Aegon approved of. He pulled the reins of his black destrier, and the five golden cloaks flanking Aegon abruptly stopped beside him.
Leaning haphazardly on his mount, the Prince craned his neck towards the old man and asked loudly. "What is it, old man?" The old man shivered, which he should be, as he was entirely defenseless, with tattered dirty clothes and almost ten barrels full of an odd sort of wine, that he seemed to have brewed himself. "Oh, tell aloud! Let the leal folks of King's Landing hear your praises. And perhaps, the King inside will hear too." Aegon smiled wickedly before he jumped down, and both his companions slid far elegantly than him, each carrying a weapon in their hand. "Come on!" He urged the seller.
"Milord! It was a slip of tongue."
"Is it?" The Prince smiled deliciously. "What do we do to men who slip their tongue, Aurane?" He asked another one of his companions with a bow and arrow in his hand.
"Obviously, we let go of their tongues." Lord Aurane shrugged nonchalantly.
My fingers froze. My blood boiled. I remembered the empty tip of my little finger, and I knew what it felt to be on the receiving end of injustice.
It was cruel, and my loathing for my brother grew as big as a mountain. The old man, realizing very late the meaning of the words, fell on his knees, hugging the Prince's legs before Aegon shoved him to dirt.
"You dare laugh behind my back, old man?" Aegon bellowed, unsheathing his long sword in an extremely awkward manner. He couldn't even hold the hilt properly, but the blade was fresh, and I didn't have any doubts if it would cut or not. "Let this be a lesson to all of you who laugh behind my back. Let this be a lesson to anyone who calls me a royal arse."
I didn't know if he aimed for the man's neck or not, but if he'd truly aimed, it was a piss poor aim, as the blade simply stuck against wooden barrels, lodged in odd angles, spilling all the wine down to the floor. As though this was another amusement, Lord Aurane stuck several of his arrows down all the barrels in the tiny stall, and the wails of that poor old merchant echoed all throughout the road.
"Three moons to brew milord. Please! Oh, please! Kill me, but leave the barrels. My children will go hungry, milord."
"Take him to the dungeons! I don't want to dirty my new blade with his lowborn blood." The Prince kicked once more at the man who was holding his leg and climbed on his horse.
The Golden cloaks sprung at once into action, making the man surrender so as to walk him towards the dungeons. The wine still spilled from all the barrels wasting away and the hungry children, once the Royal party went out of sight, leaped to steal whatever of the barrels remained. The worse thing was, the three high-born men simply laughed amidst the old man's wails as though this was just as amusing as watching a fool make a jape.
It was all an amusement for them. I remembered how the Lord Darry had got agitated at the mention of the Royal family. Now, I realized how that could be.
Perhaps I should have defended the poor old man and brought some justice. Perhaps I should have been braver. I had always thought of myself as a better person, defending the defenseless, and I'd wanted to join the Kingsguard for my brother, although after having to see him in person, I began reconsidering it.
Ghost found her way back toward us, and we left towards the castle gates, with silence and a lot of angry thoughts in my head. Still, I couldn't stop feeling that fiery eye at the back of my neck from the windowsill.
"I searched everywhere for you, niece!" Dany frowned, administering my appearance in the tall mirror in the parlor. "Tell me you didn't plan on running away, already."
"No. Not yet." I admitted, although after witnessing the sorry state of my brother, that thought did cross my mind. "I suppose it takes someone wiser than the likes of Jon Connington to send me away."
Dany giggled as she sat on the table in front of me. She was wearing an ink dark blue velvet gown on her bodice that bared her shoulders, but the rich laces of her sleeves went with swirling patterns to touch her elbow. A silk skirt billowed beneath, all having a rich embroidery in golden threads. She oozed beauty, with jewels and an elaborate crown of a three-headed dragon on her head, crowning her already golden crown for a mane.
I could see both my father's and brother's resemblance in her. If truth be told… if my brother had been a better man, it was easier for the likes of me to encourage her to marry my brother. She was how a Queen should look like, and my brother was how a King should look like. But looks alone were not enough for ruling the Kingdoms. Was it? I didn't even suspect my brother's ability I began questioning my father's own ruling if he couldn't see what his son turned out to be.
"You should change your household guard, Visenya." Dany casually suggested, as she adjusted the untameable hair of mine, which was being put together by a handmaid of Dany's, in a sophisticated pattern that was pulling my forehead up. "He didn't even realize you had left until I asked for him to check for you."
"Jory?" I enquired, remembering how he became cross with me after learning I'd gone alone into the city. "It isn't his fault. I am just better at leaving unnoticed. In Winterfell, Arya and I used to search every secret cavern in the crypts and no one could find us." I thought morosely about my cousins, and Arya in particular, who had been cross with me for leaving her. I should write a missive to them.
"Arya? Your Stark cousin, I suppose?" Dany enquired curiously. "Tell me, my sweet niece. Why did Lord Stark truly send his daughter this far?"
I grimaced at her forwardness. But I supposed it did look quite controversial to voluntarily send his own daughter into the enemy territory. As I governed Dany's smiling lips and cool features, I didn't know how much should I trust her, much less to share information about my cousin's and her mother's. "It shows a token of faith, your Grace. Don't you agree? After all, my uncle sent his own maiden daughter here."
Dany snorted, half unbelieving but half interested with the way I was hiding Lady Stark's true intention to bind her family with a wealthy lord in King's Landing. If I told that secret, the Royal family would not feel comfortable having their once old enemies gaining any more strength. "Call me, Dany. We are family, after all. No need for any formal titles. My brother will drone on about lessons on the importance of being united as a family if you sit with him even for five minutes." She chuckled and at the same time, forced the urge to roll her eyes to a halt. "You do believe in sticking up for the family. Don't you?"
Would she keep asking such uncomfortable questions? Only then it dawned on me that, perhaps, she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to trust me. After all, the Hand of the King did make an impact in the court the previous day, and I was really not straightforward with my answers. More importantly, nobody in this family had any idea about me or why I had to come here.
Did that rational thought help me in reigning my anger?
Hell no! It sucked to keep defending my intentions to everyone. Right from the moment I entered this city, I was being asked over and over to prove my loyalty.
I was getting sick of it.
Still, Princess Daenerys, for all her outwardness, was the only person who'd welcome me. And in fact, was concerned about me, and even went beyond her limit to enquire what had happened to me when I went missing. And in her own way, she'd stood up for me in the court where even my father hadn't done. I didn't want to make an enemy out of her. This was why I came all the way from North. To know my family…
"Call me, Lya, Aunt Dany. That is what my family calls me. And of course, I have no agenda against my own blood. You can be sure of that."
"Aunt Dany?" She groaned, craning her neck to see the ceiling. "Oh, why do you have to stop there? Call me Gran Dany too. Your sister, Rhaenys, has that kind of dry humor. I am younger than you, for Seven's sake." She went in front of the mirror to adjust her hair. "Do you know, Rhaenys tells that the silver in my hair is a testament for old age. She'd read in some books that people die far earlier if they have silver in their hair."
"But you have silver-gold hair."
"I know…" She whined. "Your sister, that one with all her books, likes to taunt me like that. I get these horrible dreams, you know."
"Of dying?"
"No! More horrible… of growing old."
I found that amusing, and she swatted my hand in a friendly manner, before dragging it to the door. "Now, let us honor the guests."
"I am the guest." I reasoned.
"Oh, you have to learn a lot about the court life, Lya. The feast may be held in your name, but the true guests are the cunning ones waiting for a glimpse to enter our family. Each one has a motive there. Each smile has a reason there. Each word is either a spade aimed at your chest or a weapon to wiggle into our family."
It was as though Dany was sharing her life lessons. "Wiggle into our family?" I blanched at that odd comment.
Dany measured my face before she gave a long sigh. "Don't worry. You have miles ahead of you to learn all of that. But I will teach you everything."
It was at that moment, when Sansa arrived in front of the chamber door, flustered pink, breathing heavily, her properly assembled hair somewhat of a mess, but she had that cheeky grin. A small part of me felt guilty of not even visiting her chamber and entirely forgetting her when I was spending time with Dany, but Sansa paid no mind to my selfishness. She simply curtsied Dany and held my other hand.
"Where have you been to Sansa? Your hair has—"
"Oh, no!" Sansa blushed, adjusting that stranded hair behind her ear. "I searched everywhere to find your chamber, Lya. Mya wouldn't help, and Jeyne had already left. It took me so long to locate it."
Her cheeks grew red like fire, and I assumed she was shying away under Dany's gaze. "I am so sorry, Lady Sansa. I hadn't known about your arrival. Had the King mentioned it to me, I would have found something closer to us."
"Oh, please, Your Grace. Yours is the first act of kindness that I have got since I left Winterfell."
If I felt guilty of Sansa's careless jibe about how the Darry's had treated her aimed at me, I ignored feeling the impact of it. Sansa, even in her dreams, wouldn't mean to hurt anyone intentionally. Still, I did feel a little sorry for her.
We walked steadily towards the Great Hall, accompanied by the guards, as I fretted over meeting the last person in the family—the Queen.
"Did you meet Aegon, Lya?" Dany prompted, and I vaguely nodded, a frown pasted on my lips.
"Oh, did you?" Sansa chimed in, but she blushed hard every time Dany looked at her.
"Yeah, I saw him in the morning."
"He is kind. Don't you think, Lya? He visited us when we were in the Maidenvault."
Kind? Probably, he was putting on a good show in front of high-born women. I doubted if there was a bone that knew the meaning of kindness.
"Ah… That's where he went?" Dany smiled sheepishly. "Probably, he wanted to see his sister before every one of us. You didn't tell me how you met him in the morning, though?"
I paused, wishing they both would stop speaking about that brat, who was rejoicing in his high born status, and getting wasted away. If I'd had that chance, to be born without sin, to be a man to wield a sword without judgment, to be proud of my birth, I would have spent hours on honing my skills, learning from abled warriors, rather than abuse small folks.
"Dany, why don't you tell me about the Queen?" I redirected to a more important conversation.
Dany did pause to observe my face, and there was no playfulness in her eyes, only lingering anger. "The Queen?"
"Queen Elia Martell." I insisted.
"The Queen has taken ill."
I turned around to find my father, walking noiseless, effortless, and calmer than I'd seen the previous day. A golden band of circlet sat on his forehead embedded with gemstones, contrasting his purple gaze as he offered his arm.
"Will I get the honor to accompany my daughter to the throne room?"
His offered hand waited in midair, and I stood there numbed as though he was addressing someone else, before Sansa gave me a nudge. One of the Kingsguards behind him made a groaning noise of snickering, and King Rhaegar denied amusing the man.
"Do you have to act like a bard to your own daughter?" The man enquired and removed his white helm that held clipped white feather plume. To my surprise or disappointment, he too had silver hair, purple eyes resembled like one of Prince Aegon's companions I found in the morning. The thing was, this man was what the bards wrote a song about when they mentioned valiant knights.
"Now, don't let your King down. Else, Arthur here will not let the insult slide for years to come."
Ser Arthur Dayne? Ser Jaime had said so much about the knight a thousand times, of his prowess, of his good-heartedness, more important of all his sword-swinging skills that even my expectation looked dull to his gracefulness.
Without further thought, I took my father's hand, although I doubted if I deserved to walk next to the King down the Hall. A sudden clench tightened in the pit of my stomach of what this would mean. It would mean I was important, special, and having good graces of my father—of the King himself.
Ser Arthur took Sansa's hand in a polite gesture, and somehow Dany seemed to have disappeared.
I didn't bother to look around. Dany's guards had left too, and she surely knew better about her home than me.
"The Queen is ill?" My stomach clenched again, remembering what Prince Oberyn had warned. I didn't want the Queen to feel I'd come here to disrespect her. I knew it was bound to happen. People had hated me ever since I was born, and I was no stranger to that. But none of the experiences gave any comfort at the moment.
"The Queen is ill and living so distant for her to attend the feast." The King answered. His polite gaze lingered upon my features. "This feast is meant for your arrival. You shouldn't be bothered about anything else."
My father seemed to know what exactly was running in my head, and I hated him for doing that. He didn't have any right to act as though he understood me. He left me to the wolves. In the literal sense…
"I appreciate your kindness, Your Grace," I replied in what I could gather as a monotonous tone.
"Is that anger, dear child?" He chuckled.
"It isn't… anger." I huffed, but my nose was glowing red, and all the emotions tumbled along like sliding in ice. "And I am not a child. I can best any man."
"Is it, now?" He questioned curiously. "How about we arrange a tilt with Arthur?"
"But he is the Sword of the Morning." I protested, turning around to find Ser Arthur smiling down at us, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
"Well, you were the one who called for a challenge, Lya." The King clucked his tongue, and blood reached to my ears in irritation. I didn't like that he called me 'Lya'. I didn't like that he presumed he knew the best of me. And I certainly didn't like some stranger calling me a coward.
"Visenya, for you, Your Grace. I was just worried about Ser Arthur's reputation, you see. I didn't want him to be known as the knight who got bested by a girl."
Ser Arthur laughed, and my father joined in it, although not wholeheartedly. The fact that all my words went down like an amusement to their ears, spurned my guts. I gritted my teeth for being made an idiot, and I wished, oh, I so wished to wield a sword just to make their mouth shut.
"I have no doubt Ser Jaime taught you well." Ser Arthur mused as they came to a halt in front of the throne room. "And Rhaegar, she just took over everything from Ser Jaime. I remember him when he fought against the Laughing knight. You have the same arrogance, my lady." He bowed to me. "Sorry for my choice of careless words. I am not like your father to use beautiful words. All I know is that even arrogance is beautiful when it stays with a deserving person. You must understand that it is a compliment."
"Shove away your compliments, Arthur." My father barked, with a long sour face. "That boy should have done what he was asked to do. He has put her in danger."
"He did not!" I didn't know why I got angry every time my father spoke, but to speak ill about Jaime in front of me was reaching my peak of tolerance. It was as though I was standing on the edge for every word he uttered to me. "He did everything for my sake. He helped me. I am sorry, father. But you cannot speak about Ser Jaime like that, in front of me."
There was mourning silence, and even Ser Arthur remained quiet, simply observing us both. The King went silent and still. And I knew it was wise to apologize to the King. In fact, I had apologized to a whole set of strangers in my life, simply for existing, that it should come easily to bow before the King. But call it vanity, I didn't. Instead of talking ill about my demeanor, King Rhaegar laughed emptily.
"Where in the Seven Hells did you see Ser Jaime in her, Arthur?" He questioned, sarcastically. My father's voice lingered with sadness, grief, so full of pain, that I really felt guilty of causing him such trouble. I wished I didn't exist before him. I wished I didn't come all the way to just spit hurtful words at him. Which child would bring so much anguish in life? Wasn't it better to disappear than to cause pain to him? "She has come back to haunt me." His fingers gently held my cheek where a single tear slid down. "You don't just merely look like her, Visenya."
There was a pregnant pause, and I heard Sansa sobbing, muffling her voice. It seemed even Sansa was hurt.
"Your Grace!" Ser Arthur called the King's attention, and he turned towards the direction where Rhaenys was arriving with her friends.
"Father! Dany told me I was to walk with Aegon." Rhaenys almost cried.
"He is your brother, Rhaenys."
"Can you tell me something I don't know? I will not walk with that fool." Rhaenys yelled.
King Rhaegar grunted. "Tell me, Arthur. Why did the Gods give me two daughters with whom I can never find my way around?"
"You are not—" Rhaenys stuttered. "Oh!" She sauntered back, her brown orbs fixed on me. "I will find a better man then." She decisively said with her neck held high.
"I had given you permission to do that three years ago. Please hurry in that process," Rhaegar replied, tilting his head, and I thought Rhaenys was going to burn him down just with her fire spurn eyes.
"And Ser Arthur, he broods and wonders why his daughters hate his mighty heart, which doesn't give a place for us in this castle!" Rhaenys blasted away, her silk clothes billowing in the evening air.
Ser Arthur Dayne chuckled, amused to see the King's forlorn expression of brooding, and even I felt a bit relieved, even if things weren't going in any right direction. Within seconds, the air began getting thicker with laughter and jests, as a crowd of younger men arrived, and I noticed the same set of young men that I'd found in the morning walking towards the Great Hall.
Although the Prince looked so out of form in the morning, now, in the evening, he had made a neat slicking look to his silver-gold mane and wore a thick black garment that made his dark purple eyes stand out. With a cold smile on his lopsided grin and a crown made of various stones like jade and rubies, which looked mightier than the King's own, he walked with pride and vanity, in his every step.
"Your Grace!" He even bowed with amusement in his tone.
I didn't think my father's face could grimace in disgust and distaste anymore than what it was. King Rhaegar simply nodded, and to my great surprise, he even turned away to look at Dany coming from a distance, with a young, handsome man at her side.
Was King's Landing filled with people of silver hair? Were there no normal people like me and Sansa? Because even the man she was walking with had silver-gold for hair, although lighter than my father's.
"My Prince!" Rhaenys came to the Prince's side. "Will I get the honor of being escorted to the Hall with you?"
"Of course, my lady! I have been searching for you, everywhere." He told with a gritted tone.
My father, the King was extremely displeased with it. And Rhaenys threw a wicked grin at her father, knowing well that she was able to get back at him.
"I thought you were going to find a better man, Rhaenys? Have you found no man in the whole Seven Kingdoms?" The King only forgot to tell the Prince in front of me to kill himself, because if this was Aegon I didn't think my father was going to let him live, let alone get crowned. Which brought the question…
"Oh, don't have a doubt of that, brother. The whores of King's landing will string a better song than you about if I was man enough for them."
So, this must be…
"Viserys!" King Rhaegar howled, his fists clenched together.
"Your Grace!" Ser Arthur held the King's shoulder, but they was a battle going on, brother to brother, challenging through mere gazes, and each seemed to be ready for a duel. But I doubted if my uncle would win.
How could I not guess it in the street? Of course, it was Viserys terrorizing the small folks. Perhaps the Lord Darry held contempt against my uncle.
"Father!" Aegon finally arrived at the Great Hall's entrance, holding Dany's hand. He wasn't dressed as vain as Viserys, nor did he carry a crown that was larger than his father's.
As though being melted under the sun, my father responded to Aegon, his anger vanishing, and in the next few seconds, we were walking down the Great Hall, holding silence and authority suitable for the Royal family. If I hadn't witnessed what conspired outside, even I wouldn't believe this family was anything sort of perfection.
People decorated in rich silks, and scented perfume, and the herald making loud announcements of the arrival of the Royal family, only loud cheers and claps were heard, as we climbed on the dais, with Kingsguards joining from all direction to encircle the King's family.
I sat down next to King, on his left side, and Aegon, on the right side, and for one freezing second he simply scoured into me. I realized how stupid of me to think the crown Prince was fooling himself on the roads. Looking at him, even I could see the charms, the politeness, and if I knew better, I didn't doubt he could at least swing a sword.
It took a complete moment for Aegon to withdraw his eyes from me, and I didn't know if he held loathing in that dark gaze or simple eagerness or just indifference. Either way, it disturbed me.
"Let the feast begin!" My father raised his cup, after a short speech about unity and family, just like what Dany had said.
"For a brat who kept bruising your knee, you look lovely in that dress, Visenya!" A voice trickled into my ears, and I found Ser Jaime's golden armor and golden hair spilling around the dark air at my side. I smiled at him, so happy to see him after a long interval. "And you have an explanation to give me why you ran away into the streets without taking Jory." He admonished.
It was so like Jaime that I didn't mind. But someone else did mind it. Someone else didn't like that I was talking to Ser Jaime or that he was talking to me on the dais. My father glowered at his Kingsguard, who wore a golden armor plate and a golden helmet which was against the white Kingsguard norm to have a white overall. I knew Jaime was doing it to spit on the rules.
Either way, the King didn't take it in a good heart, and neither did Jaime, as he left the dais with a mocking bow.