Apologies for the delay! Real life sometimes gets in the way of course but I'm back now with a really fun chapter.
I'll keep this brief and simply say that I hope you all enjoy it. I own nothing of A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones, those properties belong to George R R Martin and HBO.
Despite his name and very essence being that of a Targaryen, throughout his life Aegon's mother had made sure that he and all of his full-blooded siblings knew and understood their maternal roots. Regular visits to Highgarden had been a staple of Aegon's childhood, though as he watched the Tyrell party approaching the River Gate by ferry the heir to the throne realised that he had not visited the spectacular Reach castle in a number of years.
Aegon was stood beside his mother, the Queen of the Seven Kingdom's, who was looking as radiant as always in the summer sun, the faintest hints of grey now mixed in with her brown hair. He could see her hidden smile too as he looked at her, though Margaery quickly caught on and scolded him. "Stop looking at me, Aegon, we have guests."
Aegon smirked as he looked back out at the approaching ferry. There amongst the horses and the wagons he could see his uncle, Lord Loras, clearly. The Knight of Flowers was in his traditional green and gold, though Aegon was looking forward to seeing the famous resplendent armour that accompanied the Lord of Highgarden, whilst Aegon's cousins were also dressed resplendently as was expected of House Tyrell. Aegon set his smile as the ferry docked, and waited by the gate for his Uncle and the younger Tyrell's to step onto land, noticing quickly that there was an absence. "Aunt Desmera has not travelled." He muttered quietly. "Nor has Ser Lyonel, Perhaps another cousin will soon be on its way."
Margaery quickly turned to face Aegon, hissing harshly before turning to see that her white cloak protector, Ser Lucas Tyrell, hadn't reacted as if he had heard. "Do not voice that thought again, Aegon."
To save arguments, Aegon simply nodded. The proclivities of his Uncle didn't bother him, but the badly kept secret from Highgarden was that Loras' wife and cousin, the Lady Desmera Redwyne, had taken on a lover in Ser Lyonel Tyrell and passed their four children off as Loras', though the Warden of the South was quick to challenge all who spoke the hidden truth out loud, and Loras Tyrell always won.
"Brother!" Margaery greeted brightly, moving forward to hug Loras quickly before he could fall to one knee before her.
Loras Tyrell returned the hug fondly. "My Queen, you look as glorious as always." He said with a wide smile as they broke apart. "My Prince." Loras then bowed his head towards Aegon.
"Uncle." Aegon continued the greetings warmly. "I trust your journey was easy?"
Loras nodded. "It was, 10 days in total, we surprised ourselves."
"Well you must need refreshments." Margaery said, gesturing for the Tyrell party to enter the city. "Please, let us move into the Red Keep."
The Queen and Lord of Highgarden fell into the front of the group, with Ser Lucas a mere two paces behind her. Aegon meanwhile led the younger generation of House Tyrell up the road to the Red Keep. The eldest of the quartet was Ser Lyonel, a man now of 17 who was entering his first tourney after being knighted by his Father. The youngest were the twins of 12, Harlan and Martyn, whilst in the middle was the only daughter and the only child to follow their mother's colouring, the 14-year-old Minisa Tyrell, a surprising inclusion in the party in Aegon's eyes. Also along with them was the 15-year-old daughter of Ser Dickon Tarly, Lady Samantha, who had only recently married Lyonel.
"Congratulations on the wedding, cuz." Aegon made a point of saying to Lyonel. "My apologies for being unable to attend…"
Lyonel waved his apologies away. "Duty calls, there is no apology necessary My Prince. We were grateful for the appearance of Princess Saella, though her dragon ate enough supplies for three months…"
That surprised Aegon greatly, as Saella had become a bit of a recluse since her wedding. "I am glad to hear it." He nodded. "How is my sister? She has not visited her home in some time."
"Angry, still." Minisa was the one to speak from behind Aegon, arm in arm with her new Goodsister. "She'd like you to visit with the girls, cousin, but stepping foot in King's Landing was one idea that Saella shut down quickly."
Aegon noted that, vowing internally to remember to speak to Jocelyn about it later that day, though as he drowned out the nattering of the young twins, he tried to listen in to his Mother and Uncle's conversation ahead, not getting much from it other than 'disappointment' and 'Velaryon'. Suddenly the inclusion of Minisa within the Tyrell party made sense to the Crown Prince, she was here to win a betrothal to Jaehaerys. Sighing at the incessant politics that often marred these events, Aegon instead looked to the tourney itself, with Lyonel being the one to turn the conversation towards that. "Are there any surprises I should be looking out for?" The Tyrell heir asked.
He sounded confident, and Aegon grinned at the challenge. "Well, the Northmen are unknowns. I believe my wife's cousin Rickon is highly regarded with the lance." He explained. "And Oscar Tully… he will be looking to prove himself worthy of my sister."
Lyonel Tyrell smirked. "No then." He stated arrogantly.
"And myself, of course." Aegon added, noticing the smirk on his cousins face fade. "The King is still deciding on the finer details with the Master off the Games, but I would imagine that I will be one of the starting champions." He noticed the young man gulp, and wrapped his arm around the Tyrell jovially. "And perhaps your Father, too."
He heard the laughter of the younger Tyrell's behind him and grinned, letting the heir to Highgarden go as they neared Aegon's High Hill. Lyonel was a talented jouster, but arrogance ran thick in Tyrell blood as Aegon well knew, and he knew that taking his little cousin down a peg would be enjoyable.
The Northerners arrived en masse two days after the Tyrell's, and Aegon couldn't help but be amused at the reactions of most of the younger Southern Lords and Ladies when interacting with the bluntness of the First Men descendants. Even Jocelyn had her nose turned up at the loud nature of those from North of the Neck. "Are you sure you are related?" She whispered to him from their seat at the high table, watching as Robar Stark, the heir to Winterfell and an already fully bearded 16-year-old brazenly challenged Ser Jorah Mormont of the Kingsguard to an arm wrestle.
Aegon simply chuckled. "Through Father's elder brother, not directly." He explained to his wife. "Though this is tame compared to some of the antics I saw at Winterfell."
As the last to arrive, King Lucerys had organised an opening feast for those of the Great Houses in the Throne Room, where all of the nobility in attendance had been invited to celebrate the anniversary of his rule. First the food had been served, to which Aegon had indulged himself more than he perhaps should have on all that had been on offer. Wine he had drunk little however in preparation for the tourney ahead, though looking down at the gathered guests the Prince realised that not all had been so restrained.
The arm wrestle didn't go ahead however, as at the moment Robar Stark began to grow more insistent, King Lucerys stood up from his seat beside Queen Margaery, and the entire room quickly fell silent. After a moment of peace, the King began to speak. "My Lords, My Ladies. I welcome you all to King's Landing for what promises to be a most resplendent celebration. When I first sat upon the Iron Throne 25 years ago the realm was still in the grips of a brutal war, with only worse yet to come. Now, however, I see friends from all over Westeros, gathered here for the chance at eternal glory. I see already that the prospect of the contests ahead have many a man's blood pumping, but for now, that can wait." Aegon looked over at a grinning Robar Stark knowingly, amused at the young man's actions. "In two days we shall open proceedings with a melee, before both the archers and the jousters shall have their turns. Now, however, is the time for dancing." He clapped his hands together twice, and in the corner of the room the band began to play.
Lucerys was the first on the dance floor, holding his hand out for the Queen to take delicately before they began the steps. Aegon quickly rose to his feet and offered his hand out to his wife, who also took it delicately as they moved into the now cleared dance floor and bowed to one another.
"You look beautiful." Aegon stated to his wife as they stepped together. Her black hair was done up in an elegantly put together bun, while her dress showed her birth house colours proudly and defiantly. "You'll draw the eyes of every man in here."
"Not every man." Jocelyn smirked back, and sure enough Aegon looked over at his Father to see that he was looking anywhere but at the Baratheon. Not wanting the petty feelings to ruin the night, Aegon quickly pushed his Father out of his mind, simply enjoying the dance with his beloved.
More and more joined in the dance before it finished. Jaehaerys had very quickly brought out his new betrothed Laena onto the floor, whilst Robar Stark had brought out Jocelyn's cousin Dorna Karstark. From the corner of his eye he noticed that his sister, Daenys, was still sat at the high table looking over at her own betrothed impatiently. Laughing, Aegon manufactured his wife's steps so that they moved over to the side of the room where the Tully heir was stood awkwardly.
"Go and ask her to dance." Aegon stated bluntly to the red-head. "Now."
Shocked into action, Oscar Tully did just that, and soon all of the Targaryen's in attendance were on the floor, moving to the music around dozens upon dozens of noble couples. Ser Cristian Celtigar with his wife Lady Sarra Sunglass, Ser Lucas Goldriver with Lady Alissa Cole, Lord Dondarrion with his wife Lady Allyria… as Aegon looked around he saw that there were men and women from every kingdom dancing and enjoying themselves.
The song ended to rapturous applause, and the King quickly excused himself. Sighing at that, Aegon knew he needed to continue on to show off House Targaryen, though a tap on the shoulder brought his attention away from King Lucerys, and onto the heir to Storm's End. "Ser Davos." Aegon greeted.
"My Prince." Davos Baratheon bowed graciously. "I wondered if I may cut in for a song."
Jocelyn was the one to answer, and smiled brightly. "Of course, nephew." She said, unlatching herself from Aegon's hands to get into position with the son of Lady Shireen. "Perhaps your mother would like a dance, Aegon."
Knowing he was being dismissed, Aegon simply grinned as he moved out of the way, pressing a kiss to his wife's cheek as he passed her. Spotting his Mother making her way off of the floor he quickly caught up with her and dragged her back.
"Egg." Margaery smiled brightly, curtseying to him to the music before they moved again.
By the time that the music had evolved to slightly bawdier tunes, Aegon made his departure from the floor having danced with a host of women, young and old. His feet were tired out and so he made his way to the side, pouring himself a cup of wine and noticing that he had found his way beside Lord Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell.
"Cousin." Aegon greeted, realising instantly that the wine had undoubtedly reached his head by then.
As expected, Jon bristled at the familial mention. "Prince Aegon." He said unemotionally, his northern accent standing out.
"I must admit, I didn't expect to see you here." Aegon told the Northman.
Jon nodded the once. "We in the North remember fondly the actions of your Father, and the sacrifices he made for the North. To miss such a celebration would be dishonourable and an insult to the memories of those lost in his name."
Aegon simply nodded, taking a sip of his drink awkwardly. He had always liked the gruff Northerner, but holding a conversation with the man had always been a challenge he had found. Settling on the sight of Robar Stark twirling Dorna Karstark around, he leant into Jon again. "Robar has certainly grown since the last time I saw him."
Jon, surprisingly, actually smiled. "Aye." The Northerner nodded. "It is a welcome match too, Robar himself pursued it and convinced Lord Karstark. They wed at Winterfell in two years, when Lady Dorna is of age."
Northern marriages were different to those in the South, and ever since he had seen the scorched and blackened Weirwood Tree in the Winterfell Godswood he had wondered what it would look like at night during such a momentous occasion. "I shall be sure to let Lady Jocelyn know, I am sure she would wish to attend."
Jon again nodded. "You are always welcome within Winterfell, My Prince." The Warden of the North said.
Aegon smiled as he viewed the dancefloor once more, spotting his cousin Lyonel deep in conversation with Torryg Giantsbane, the Lord of Bear Island before then feeling the need to return to his seat and rest his feet for a moment. "Thank you, Lord Stark." Aegon bowed his head politely. "If you would excuse me."
He left the company of the Northerner and rounded the dancefloor, rejoining the head table just as Lysono Maar had finished whispering in the King's ear. "Lord Maar." Aegon bowed politely.
"No Lord, My Prince." Maar quite clearly faked the smile that followed. "Good evening."
Aegon allowed the man to pass him, before sitting down in what had been his Mother's chair, who was now being led around the floor by her brother. "Anything interesting?" He asked his Father.
Lucerys Targaryen shook his head. "Nothing yet." He said, taking a sip of the Arbor Gold in his goblet. "Your sister looks happy."
Aegon searched around for the unique silver-gold hairstyle of Daenys, noticing her exceptionally long hair quickly as she was still dancing and laughing with Ser Oscar. "She plays her part better than most." Aegon admitted.
Lucerys simply sighed. "One day you will see that these moves I am trying to make are for the betterment of the Realm, as well as our House."
He could see it now if Aegon was honest with himself. Alliances with both House Velaryon and House Tully were beneficial, but unlike his Father, Aegon cared more about the people involved than he did the political benefit. "Alyssa is seven, Father. Far too young for me to even consider a betrothal. We have been through this."
"My stance hasn't changed." Lucerys said firmly. "It is a fine match."
"One we already have through Saella." Aegon whispered harshly, praying that Daeron wasn't in earshot. "She did as you asked her too despite everything…"
"Enough." Lucerys said firmly. "This is a moment of celebration, not a time to rehash old grievances." The King then rose to his feet and departed the high table, leaving Aegon alone once more feeling the frustration bubbling up inside of him.
The Northerners did end up being the surprise of the Tourney after all. On the first day of the games there was a widespread Melee, and that ended up being dominated by Lord Torryg Giantsbane and his mace, while the archery contest was won comfortably by the young Robar Stark, who had evidently picked up his mother's skill with a bow. The main event however was the joust which started on day 3 of the festivities, and one that Aegon was feeling confident in performing well in.
He felt his younger brother tighten the final strap of his under armour as he looked into the corner at his outer armour, a shining steel ensemble with the sigil of his house inlayed in the chest in purple, before Jaehaerys moved to the side of Aegon's room and grabbed the dragon's head helm. "Here you are." The younger Targaryen stated.
"Thank you, Jae." Aegon said, smiling down at his younger brother. Even Jaehaerys was in some light fitting leather armour proudly showing off his House. "I don't expect too many challenges today, but we need to be ready just in case."
The Master of the Games had announced the rules the night before. King Lucerys had hand-picked four champions, Aegon, Loras Tyrell, Ser Cristian Celtigar and Lord Tristan Goldriver, all of whom would be able to be challenged by any of the attending knights in the lists throughout the first two days, while the third would be reserved for the semi-finals and final. Aegon had been assigned the first Champion's box, and so together with his brother they left Maegor's Holdfast for the stables, riding away to the tourney grounds of King's Landing.
Jaehaerys split from Aegon once they arrived so that he could make sure that all of Aegon's equipment was ready and to armour his war horse, and so the Prince made his way to the jousting arena, seeing that it was already filling up with spectators. Looking up at the royal box he could see his mother fussing over Daenys' hair and let out a light chuckle, before spotting the four Champion's boxes all bearing shields with the respective sigils on them either side of the royal box. Far to the right was the sigil for the overlords of Dyre Den, House Goldriver, the prominent white sigil with seven golden rings surrounded by a double golden tressure. Beside it was the Tyrell golden rose on green, whilst the other side of the royal box had Aegon's own personal sigil of a purple dragon upon a black field, and finally the red crabs of House Celtigar.
As the Prince made his way up to his temporary box passing the Baratheon guards of his wife as he went, he was grateful to see that his wife and daughters were all already inside. Alyssa especially was in a gown of bright purple, a sight that truly warmed Aegon's heart. He pressed a kiss to Jocelyn's lips before sitting down and waiting for the Master of the Games to begin.
That followed 15 minutes after his arrival, as the horns blew to signal for quiet. "MY LORDS! MY LADIES! MY FINE PEOPLE OF THE SEVEN KINGDOM'S!" He began. "WELCOME, TO THIS, THE FINAL EVENT OF THE KING'S 25th ANNIVERSARY TOURNEY, THE JOUSTING EVENT!" Aegon joined in the applause that sang around the 30,000-seater arena. The Master of the Games then explained the rules once again, on how each knight had one opportunity to challenge one of the four champions, and if they won the bout, they would take the Champion's place. First to enter the arena on horseback was Ser Davos Baratheon. The heir to Storm's End was a man of 17 and was already over 6 and a half feet tall with the strength to match. He rode the once around the arena lapping up the applause before settling on the section of the crowd that sat Lord Robert Dondarrion and his family. Leaning his lance towards the young Dondarrion girl of 12, Jeyne, Lord Davos spoke boomingly. "I would be honoured if my betrothed would grant me her favour."
That was news to Aegon, who looked questioningly at his wife, who simply shrugged. "Shireen doesn't tell me everything." She whispered.
Jeyne Dondarrion granted the Stormlander her favour easily however, and to even more thunderous applause the Baratheon knight circled the arena once more before coming to a stop before the royal box and bowing, and finally pushing his lance out to tap the shield belonging to Lord Tristan Goldriver.
"Ser Davos Baratheon has challenged Lord Goldriver!" The Master of the Games cried out, and Aegon looked over at the former sellsword's box and saw that the grey-haired friend of the King's had a wide grin on his face.
Less than twenty minutes later and after some questionable entertainment from the castle fool and the standard speech from the King that Aegon had heard dozens of times, Aegon leant forwards in his seat in expectation as the two mounted knights faced off against one another.
"Ten dragons on Davos." Jocelyn muttered from beside him.
Aegon grinned widely and turned to his wife. "Taken." He nodded, knowing that while Lord Tristan may have been old, but he was formidable.
The first tilt was inconclusive as both lances shattered on impact, though both knights kept their seats. The second was similar, although Aegon noticed that Lord Tristan had almost toppled over. He could feel his wife's hand clawing into his arm in anticipation as the combatants turned once more, and as they collided it was clear that overconfidence had gotten to the Baratheon boy, and the large teen clattered to the ground fiercely, leaving Lord Tristan the victor.
Aegon was among the first to rise to his feet and applaud the victory, and he looked over at his wife with a smirk as he saw her slightly reluctant applause. "This will be enjoyable." Aegon whispered over to her as Davos was helped to his feet and escorted away, before Lord Alyn Rowan entered the field, tapping the sigil of Loras.
As the morning continued on Aegon found himself growing bored. As expected most of the challenges were being made against Lord Tristan and Ser Cristian, though so far all had proven their worth by defeating all that faced them. Ser Loras' first opponent of the tourney was the controversial heir to the Westerlands Ser Tommen Lannister, and the Westerman got dispatched relatively easily in the second tilt.
These types of tourneys always went the same way for Aegon however. If he was a champion it would always either take a knight of the Kingsguard or a brave young fool itching for glory, and the latter proved true as the hour passed midday, with Ser Walder Swann the one to ride around to Aegon's sigil and tap it with his lance.
A widespread roar of approval was met as Aegon stood up prominently, waving to the gathered crowds before he turned back to descend to the ground. Once he had reached his side of the arena he was quickly assaulted by Jaehaerys and two other tourney squires who helped him into his armour. Once Jaehaerys was happy, Aegon was quickly led to his horse and handed a tourney lance. Doing a lap around the arena to get the crowd noise going he stopped in front of his own box and held is lance out. "Your favour, my love." He called out so all could hear.
Jocelyn had a wide grin on her face as she stood, a wreath of yellow and black flowers in her hands. She carefully placed it so that the wreath dropped down the long shaft of the lance to rest on the pronounced hilt. Nodding casually towards his wife, Aegon moved once more so that he was in position.
Drowning out the cheers of the crowd Aegon focused his mind onto his opponent at the other end of the tilt. Ser Walder Swann was one of the first babes born after the Great War, a knight of 18 born to Lord Donnel's uncle, Ser Clifford Swann and the deceased Tyta Frey. It was likely the knight's first major tourney, and the 23-year-old Crown Prince was determined that the match would be ended quickly.
As the horns blew to signify the start of the match Aegon pushed his horse into a quick gallop, his eyes never once leaving the spot on Walder Swann's body that he was aiming for. As he kept his breathing calm and steady the Stormlander grew closer, before the pair of knights crashed together.
Aegon felt himself be thrown backwards, though he managed to keep his feet in the stirrups and quickly hauled himself back upright as they reached the end of the tilt. As he whirled his horse around and collected a new lance he looked over and noticed that Walder Swann was still fixing his position, and Aegon knew that he had the victory. He charged once more, connecting in exactly the same place on the Swann's armour, though this time Aegon was barely moved by the opposing lance, and the loudest cheer of the day signified that the match was won.
Slowing his horse down and quickly jumping off, the Targaryen walked over to where Ser Walder was slowly regaining his senses. "Well fought." Aegon cried over the noise, before helping to haul the Stormlander up to his feet, though he was slightly wobbly. "Easy."
"Many thanks, My Prince." Walder muttered, clearly in some discomfort. Aegon grabbed an arm and hoisted it around his own shoulders, helping the man walk away to the medical tent. Once they were inside and Walder was on a bed, Aegon went to leave him to his treatment but the Stormlander brazenly grabbed his hand and stopped him. "Forgive me, My Prince… but I owe you a ransom."
Surprised and amused, Aegon couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. "Consider your debt already paid, good Ser. The challenge was enough for me, I shall not take your coin also."
Walder frowned, but Aegon noticed his shoulders relax slightly. "You are too generous, My Prince."
"And you must get yourself fixed up before joining me for a drink." Aegon insisted. "I shall be expecting you."
The Prince then shook Walder Swann's hand firmly before finally managing to depart, pleased with both his performance and that his opponent would come away with it with minor injuries along with a lot of pride, though once they had shared a drink during the half an hour of rest that each champion was allotted after a bout, Aegon's mind would be completely focused on the next opponent.
Three more brave souls challenged Aegon during the first day of the tourney, and the first two fell in quick succession. Ser Willem Frey lasted three tilts and Ser Walder Haigh in the first. His final competitor however was much more of a challenge, and as Aegon lay in his bed without a shirt on with his wife softly nursing his new found bruises, he thought back on how despite his advanced age, Ser Jaime Lannister was still a formidable opponent.
The other champions had almost survived unscathed as well. Loras Tyrell and Tristan Goldriver had both fought off all challenges and kept their place going into the second day, while Ser Cristian Celtigar had fallen to the heir to Riverrun, Ser Oscar Tully, meaning that the silver trout had replaced the red crab in the champions boxes, and Aegon's sister Daenys had already made plans to be seated in her betrothed's box rather than the royal box with their parents.
Aegon was brought out of his thoughts with a sharp wince, as Jocelyn was just a little too firm on one of the appearing bruises. "Careful." He told his wife.
Shaking her head, Jocelyn brushed over it carefully with the sponge. "You can take a lance to the chest, but a soft sponge is too much?" She raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"I take a lance to the chest wearing steel." Aegon laughed. "You have me bare, I am in far more danger here, my love." Jocelyn replied to that by leaning over and kissing the forming bruise on his ribs. "That's better." Aegon sighed happily, closing his eyes as he let his wife run her lips over his chest.
"You did excellently today." She told him. "The whispers around the competitors are that nobody wishes to face you, they would rather tire out Lord Tristan."
Aegon scoffed. "Tristan Goldriver spent decades in Essos fighting war after war with my Father. He might lose through skill, but never fatigue."
"Still." Jocelyn shifted herself so that she was laying down beside Aegon on their bed, her hands gently stroking his bare chest. "You may have a quiet day tomorrow nonetheless."
Aegon nodded, moving so he could wrap his left arm around his wife. "If the Gods are good." He whispered contently. "I told you, you will be the Queen of Love and Beauty once the final tilt is over."
Jocelyn simply grinned, moving the next kiss to his lips. "You are getting overconfident, my love."
"For good reason." Aegon smirked, before he pulled her over so that she was straddling him, ignoring her giggles of protest. "I'm better than them all."
Leaning down Jocelyn captured his lips again, to which Aegon gladly reciprocated, enjoying the growing urgency of the kissing before he felt her shifting towards his own groin. Hastily pulling the hem of her dress up for better access, the Prince of Dragonstone's injuries were all but forgotten as the wedded couple lost themselves in the throes of passion.
The start of the tourney and a big insight as to how the realm has shaped up since the end of the last story! We have our latest noble scandal in House Tyrell, as well as a look towards Jon and the North!
I've had a lot of fun writing about this tournament, and that shall continue next time too! Until then however, I simply hope you all enjoyed this chapter.
Next Time: A Mystery Knight appears within the lists, whilst a late arrival brings worrisome news to King's Landing…
Reviews:
DarylDixon'sLover: This is a lot later on in the timeline and years have passed rather than the weeks for us… Luke would say that he has learned from his mistakes and doesn't want to let his children do the same.
DonquixoteMel: I drew a lot from Jaehaerys for this stage of Luke's life it's true. Daeron was given a dragon egg as a baby. It never hatched and when he took his White Cloak he passed it on to Elaena.
TheRagFromTheCrag: Luke's love for Daenerys for the most part is an unspoken open secret. That's partly why he reacted so badly when Aegon brought it up.
Jason Kreuger Myers: Aegon is beloved, and on the whole it's a good match that truly puts a stop to the troubles of the last 50 years. Luke hates it, but he knows it's too good a match politically to break apart, unlike Saella and Daeron.
Hail King Cerion: Thank you! I hope you enjoy this one too!
