Diana felt off-kilter as she watched the hall empty slowly, the drunken occupants having been dismissed after the commotion of the princess' sworn shield starting a brawl when he attacked a servant who accidentally bumped into him while serving drinks. The hall felt unnaturally silent except for the soft sobs coming from a bereaved Rhaenyra who stood in her son's embrace, her face red with barely contained sobs, her cheeks trekked with tears.
Despite the shock of learning of her older sister's demise, all had been well. The couple seemed enamoured with each other, the guest happy and entertained with wine, food and music, and then all had gone to hell when the screams had started.
The dornish man had looked feral as he'd laid into the young man, who now lay prone, half under a table. The young servant's once golden hair was soaked in blood from a head wound above his left eye, his other eye swollen shut from multiple punches. Diana hadn't seen much from her perch at the high table, but from several witness reports, it seemed the boy had hit his head on a table during his fall, making it impossible for him to defend himself from Ser Criston's assault.
Only her sons' interference stopped the rogue kingsguard, tackling the man and restraining him until the city watchmen and Daemon arrived to take custody. Unfortunately, Daemon was still gone, escorting the disgraced knight to the dungeons for questioning.
Maester Mellos was silent as he examined the boy, his hands shaky either from the wine he'd been drinking or the shock of the events in front of him. Then, slowly and methodically, he opened the boy's eyes, careful not to jostle him too much as he checked his pupillary response and then his pulse.
As the older man slowly sat up, his eyes were sad as he looked at the king and shook his head. At this, Rhaenyra's tears started anew as she buried her face into Aelyx's chest; he, on the other hand, looked murderous. An innocent man had been murdered at his wedding feast by someone the family should have been able to trust.
Feeling tears pool in her eyes, Diana looked around the room and frowned when she saw that the queen was conspicuously absent, her ostentatious green gown nowhere to be found. That would have to be a problem for another day, though Diana presumed her newfound house loyalty may have something to do with her father's abrupt dismissal as Hand.
Viserys didn't look well either, with his nose bleeding profusely and pale skin. He looked like her could barely stand up straight as he stared blankly at the mess in front of him. Concern had her reached over and gently gripping his white knuckles hand with hers, shaking it slightly to gain his attention.
"Perhaps we should send the children to bed, Your Grace," she murmured, voice soft to not further upset the clearly ill man.
The king blinked a couple times before he responded, his voice foggy as he replied, "Yes, yes. Send them to bed, Diana. I… I need to rest."
Nodding her head, Diana silently motioned several nearby Kingsguards to escort their king back to his rooms.
"Maester Mellos," she called, voice firm but sympathetic, "Perhaps you can attend to the king in his chambers. He's had a shock. As for the rest of you, to your chambers, please. This has been a most distressing course of events, and I think we all need to recuperate."
The elderly maester nodded as a guard helped him to his feet, and he walked towards the king. Then, speaking softly to the monarch, he and one of his acolytes escorted Viserys to his chambers. Once they were gone, Diana headed towards the children, frowning slightly when she noticed how messy and unkempt her daughter's hair was; as far as she knew, Alycia hadn't been near the fighting; why was she a mess?
"All of you, to your chambers. Everything will be alright."
"What about Ser Criston?" Rhaenyra whimpered, her voice hoarse from tears, "Why did he do this?"
"I don't know, my love. Your Uncle is trying to figure that out now." Diana replied, reaching out to tuck a messy strand of hair behind her niece's ear. Rhaenyra's once pristine white gown and immaculate hair had been dirtied in the scuffle, leaving stains around the girl's knees and hair a tousled mess.
Aelyx stood tall, his arms wrapped tightly around Rhaenyra's shoulders as he said, "I'll escort them, Mother."
With the children gone, Diana was left to take stock of the damage, her heart in her throat as she looked at the corpse on the ground, blood steadily leaking from its wounds, staining the stone floor.
What the hell happened?
** Line Break **
Daemon held onto his temper as he assessed the man chained to the wall in front of him. The black cells weren't exactly known to be humane, and they lived up to their reputation. Mud and filth caked the floors and walls, made up of all types of human excrements, dirtying Ser Crispin's beloved white cloak.
Not that the man had worn it for long once Daemon got a hold of him. He'd been stripped of his armour and under padding, leaving him in only his white trousers and undershirt, both now a dull brown, rather than the starch white they'd been, splattered with red.
The blood of his victim.
Suppressing a growl at the reminder that the fool had ruined what was supposed to be a momentous occasion for his son and favourite niece, Daemon nodded sharply at Ser Grigg, one of his favoured gold cloaks. The man wore a scowl that could scare the hair off a cat as he wheeled back and punished the unconscious curr in the gut, forcing him awake with a groan and almost feral yell.
"Good evening, Ser Crispin," Daemon murmured, his voice low, most of his body hidden in the shadows as he watched the younger man look around frantically for an exit.
"What?!" The man yelled, obviously discombobulated from the head trauma caused by the unexpected knockout punch by Ser Grigg in the grand hall. His hair was in disarray, despite its gell, and his chained hands were drenched in blood, clenched into fists.
"You know, I'm a simple man Crispin. A straightforward man. Give me a good meal, a good fuck and my family, and I'm happy. What about you?"
When the cunt just continued to stare at him blankly, vitriol practically oozing from his pores, Daemon continued, "I think that when my niece raised you up from backwater lowlife to knight of the kingsguard, you actually thought that made you important. That you actually mattered more than your sword ability? Am I right? Is that why I witnessed you panting after my niece, like a dog with a bone. So rather than treating her with respect, like a sword shield should have for his future queen?"
The younger man's face twisted, turning redder with every word out of Daemon's mouth, before he exploded, lunging forward against his shackles and yelling, "The princess is -!"
"That is enough." The small, delicate voice felt so utterly wrong in the depths of the black cells that it brought all of the men to heel, all of them falling silently and turning to look at an intrepid Queen Alicent. In all of her finery, the young queen looked almost disgustingly out of place in the dark and damp dungeons.
Besides a seething Daemon, all of them bowed their heads in deference as the brunette woman stepped forward, her footfalls dainty on the filth-covered floors, her eyes locked on the bloodied Ser Criston. The man stared back at her as if she were the Maiden to save him from the depths of the Seven Hells, his eyes gleaming with reverence.
"Your Grace," the title felt like ash on Daemon's tongue as he stepped in her way, halting her approach, "It is not safe here; perhaps you should check on your friend. Rhaenyra has had a trying evening."
The queen flinched at the reminder of her past relationship with the young princess before her face cooled to an icy exterior, eyes dark as she murmured, "I felt I would be better served here. To come to the defence of the honourable Ser Criston."
At her words, several of the men coughed, trying in vain to muffle their chuckles or sounds of incredulity. The man stood accused of murder, with dozens of members of the court as witnesses, and the queen was calling him honourable?
Alicent ignored their incredulity, her brown doe eyes locked on the beaten curr, gaze sharp and calculating. Then, ignoring Daemon's disapproving glare, she stepped around the rogue prince and reached a pale, shaking hand to pat Criston's bruised and bloodied cheek, the dornish man practically purring at her touch.
"I saw what happened. An unfortunate mistake. I will make sure the King knows this. In the meanwhile, you will leave Ser Criston alone."
"You must be joking. That man is an animal," Daemon growled, pointing an accusing finger at the cunt in chains, "He murdered a man at my son's, your childhood friend's betrothal banquet."
"That was an order, Prince Daemon, not a request. Leave, all of you." The queen snapped, her hands clasped in front of her.
Slowly, begrudgingly, the men left, Daemon scowling as he marched away, making sure to maintain eye contact with the Hightower Cunt until she broke eye contact, dropping her gaze to the floor. Even playing at being 'The Queen,' the chit couldn't find her spin for more than a minute.
Fury broiled in Daemon's gut as he stormed through the dungeons and into the keep. The Hightowers had always been a problem, but at least they could always count on Alicent to be too much of a coward to stand up for herself, always being her father's puppet. If the girl was finally coming into her own, she could be a significant obstacle.
** Line Break **
Aelyx could only glower silently as he escorted Rhaenyra to her seat in the royal box. As the future groom, it would be unseemly for him to participate in the tourney and risk severe injury or death. Nevertheless, he held back a growl as he saw a glimpse of a familiar full head of jet-black hair, olive skin and white armour standing suspiciously close to the queen.
In the six days since the disaster of a betrothal banquet, things had only gotten worse as somehow the queen was able to convince an obviously ailing Viserys to pardon the murderous Ser Criston, although Mother and Father had influenced the king enough that the knight had been stripped of his kingsguard armour, and demoted back to a simple hedge knight.
The disgraced knight was also banned from participating in any tourneys for the next five years, unable to gain any notoriety or improve his public image through victory. In addition, he had also been banned from participating in any royal missions or conflicts, instead being confined to the Red Keep and, at her grace, Queen Alicent's side.
In his silver armour and green doublet, the older man looked sullen as he stood tall next to his newest charge, Queen Alicent. Aelyx had expected Rhaenyra to rage when she'd heard how her closest friend and sworn shield had betrayed her and sided with the enemy, but his betrothed had only nodded, her skin pale and her eyes blazing with fury.
Rhaenyra's black gown was gorgeous, while its gold and red accents and dragon scale textures exposed her collarbone and parts of her back with his low neckline. Her hair had been pulled back using a braided crown, and on her head sat a gorgeous tiara made of pure silver and forged to look like dragons interconnecting and flying around her beautiful head, with red ruby eyes and flames.
She looked every bit the crown princess, and everyone knew it, with how almost every member of the court bowed their head in reverence, whispering, 'princess,' 'hart's bane,' and 'black queen' under their breath.
As the riders in the joust took their positions, the crowd roared and cheered as King Viserys stood up, using a dragon-headed cane to remain standing as he cried, "Today, we mark the final day of my daughter and heir's wedding tourney! I welcome all combatants and wish them the best of luck! Tomorrow, the royal wedding ceremony takes place!"
Everyone cheered and applauded, even the pinched-face queen who stared daggers at the back of Rhaenyra's head, who sat in front with Aelyx in their seats of honour. The Hightower queen had been noticeably absent from court the past few days, hidden away in the nursery with her two young children and her small group of Reach ladies, abandoning the king to his ailments and being lax in her courtesies towards Rhaenyra.
She only ever resurfaced for court functions and, even then, was usually fashionably late and covered in Hightower green gowns with gold accents.
As the joust began with knight after knight taking the field, Aelyx could admit to being bored. What was once an exhilarating experience to him as a child now seemed paltry compared to going to war. What was the point of risking your life in some stupid pageant? Fame? Money?
No, Aelyx did not see himself competing anytime soon.
Especially not after he and Rhaenyra began having children, he intended to be present for his children. He would not abandon his family to the vipers of court for 'honour.'
"Ser Laenor Velaryon! Son of Lord Corlys Velaryon!" Ser Laenor looked every bit the dashing young knight with his handsome features, silver dreadlocks and polished silver armour as he trotted onto the housing list, his silver mare tossing its head in excitement.
As he headed towards the box, Ser Laenor smirked as he raised his face shield and called, "Princess Rhaenyra, I would be honoured to receive your favour this fine eve, so I may crown the heir to the Iron Throne, the Queen of Love and Beauty."
On the opposite side of the list, a knight in white and silver armour, with a green caparison covering his brown stallion's rear. As he took his place, the announcer yelled, "Ser Gwayne Hightower! Brother of Queen Alicent!"
Ser Gwayne asked the favour of his sister. Both the princess and queen obliged the knights, dropping their flower wreaths down onto their lances and exchanging competitive glances before retaking their seats.
Aelyx felt Rhaenyra's hand tighten in his in anticipation while he glanced over his shoulder to where Laena and Daemion sat, side by side near Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. The Velaryon smiled ferally as she watched her brother charge the Hightower knight, again and again, neither falling to the other's lances.
It wasn't until the third go-round that Laenor struck the other knight in the upper chest, forcing him back and making the older knight fall off his horse with a clang of steel.
The crowd roared its approval as Laenor took his place in front of the box, awaiting his reward. A smiling Viserys stood and hobbled forward on shaky knees; raising his voice, the king cried, "Our victor! He will receive a laurel of roses to crown his Queen of Love and Beauty and 10,000 gold dragons, as promised! And as a special gift, I offer this; ask anything of me, Ser Laenor, and if it is within my power, I will grant it to you! As repayment for your long service and close family ties to the crown."
Laenor accepted the laurel with a broad smile, holding it aloft in victory before trotting toward the royal box with it held high. Rhaenyra smiled and stood to greet him, accepting it with a grin and turning to give it to Aelyx as a sign of respect. Aelyx, in turn, placed the crown upon her head, kissing her on the forehead in a sign of affection and approval.
A murmur in the crowd had him turning back towards the list, where he was shocked to see Ser Laenor kneeling, his head bowed in supplication. "Your Grace," he called, his voice humble, "I realize there is an opening within your Kingsguard."
At his proclamation, the crowd gasped, shocked that the knight would bring attention to the spectacle that had taken place at the betrothal banquet. Such things were usually not spoken of, at least not in the king's presence.
Viserys frowned as he replied, "Yes, there is. What is your point, Ser Laenor."
"Just as you saw fit to name your eldest child heir, despite her gender, my Father has seen fit to do the same so my sister, Lady Laena, who may one day rule Driftmark. A choice I most heartedly agree and support." Laenor said, his eyes lowered in supplication, "But, that leaves me with the freedom to make my own choices about my life. Please, allow me to serve my family in another way. Make me a member of your kingsguard so that I might someday shield your daughter, our future queen."
The crowd murmured, their voices raised in both confusion and admiration. A knight leaving all his inheritance and luxuries to guard his royal cousins was admirable and selfless. Stupidly selfless, to some, but selfless nonetheless.
Viserys glanced behind his shoulder at Lord Corlys, who looked aggrieved but resigned; clenching a smiling Rhaenys' hand, the Sea Snake nodded in acceptance.
Taking Lord Corlys' cue, Viserys cried, "May I present, Ser Laenor of the Kingsguard!"
The crowd cheered and stood in unison, throwing flowers in celebration. Rhaenyra also clapped, smiling broadly at her cousin, who blushed at all the attention but was satisfied at his accomplishment. Aelyx also applauded, his mind racing with the possibilities now that Laenor was sworn to the king and, by extension, Rhaenyra.
Laena and Daemion's children were now set to inherit Driftmark after Corlys and Laena, making the possibility of the future Lords and Ladies of the Tide being dragonriders almost inevitable. Dragonriders connected through the blood to the Black faction of the court. And with Laenor in King's Landing and Daemion on Driftmark, the Velaryons and Targaryens were now intertwined, their causes connected through blood and vows, making them natural allies.
There was only one person Aelyx could think of who could have devised a plan like that to ensure the Velaryon wealth, fleet, and dragon were behind them. Glancing over his shoulder, Aelyx turned to see his mother looking positively smug next to his father, their hands intertwined as they watched the Hightowers scramble to readjust to the latest power grab.
Queen Alicent looked positively murderous, her face pale and hands clenched in her lap, her eyes darting to a red-faced Ser Criston who had just been forced to watch his replacement be sworn in. Perhaps the queen had been counting on having enough time to convince Viserys to reconsider his decision to demote Cole. Oh well.
And with that, the Blacks landed their first blow. They had the advantage for the first time since Otto Hightower was named Hand of the King. Now all they needed to do was keep it until Rhaenyra took the throne, and there was nothing the Hightowers could do but to rebel, revealing themselves as the backstabbing oathbreakers they always were.
But that wouldn't be easy. Who knew how long Viserys would live? His fickleness was well known throughout Westeros. All it would take was the queen whispering her poisoned honey into the sick man's ear at the right time, and they could be completely fucked. No, Aelyx and Rhaenyra would need to stay in court while Laena and Daemion were on Driftmark, and his parents travelled between being castellans for Dragonstone and checking in on Runestone.
As for Alycia, seeing how she had been glued to Ser Tyland at every opportunity, it was safe to say Lord Jason would have reason to create that dragon pit, after all. For his future sister-in-law, nieces and nephews. With Alycia tied to the Lannisters, with her children bearing their name, the Westerlands would be a powerful ally and deterrent against any future acts of rebellion.
Dragonstone, Driftmark, Runestone, The Eyrie, Casterly Rock, Winterfell.
One after the other, they would fall behind Rhaenyra's banner when the time came. Lord Boremund was also a firm supporter of Princess Rhaenys and now Princess Rhaenyra, although his thug of a son may prove a challenge convincing in the future. Nevertheless, they could win this without bloodshed if they were cautious and intelligent.
Although going by the murderous gleam in Ser Criston's eye and the panic in Alicent's, Aelyx doubted it. Some people could never admit defeat, and who knew what poison Otto Hightower had spilled into his daughters' ears in the years since Prince Aegon was bor?. No, if this came to war, it may be the darkest period in history, which hadn't been seen since the Field of Fire.