Laena Velaryon (101 Tenth Moon)
Dragonstone – Aegon's Garden
Laena read the letter from Aemon again as she thought wistfully of him.
To my dearest friend Laena Velaryon,
It's been two moons now since I arrived at Winterfell and I think I've started to feel at home here, strange as that may sound. The cold doesn't bother me much anymore. In fact, I rather like it. It's sharp and fresh, and the wind feels clean in my lungs. Balerion though, is not as fond of it. He grumbles and cracks his wings when the snow clings to his scales like wet wool. I think he misses the salt air.
The North itself is vast with many plains and forests, and the woods and trees seem larger. The Weirwoods and Heartrees feel ancient compared to those in the south, except for the Heartree we saw in Harrenhal. That one is quite similar in size to the one in Winterfell.
As for Winterfell, it might be the largest castle I have been to save for Harrenhall, although calling that ruin a castle is debatable. The castle is surrounded by two high walls with a moat in between them. The castle has many other fortifications, but I suppose you would rather not bore you with them. I still look forward to your face when you see the place for yourself, it truely is a magnificent castle.
I think you would be facinated by the hot springs that pump hot water around the castle, keeping it relatively warm even during winter, or so Mother and the rest of the Starks tell me. They are wonderful place to bathe as well, especially for us dragons.
I wish you could see it for yourself. Not just the castles and the land, but the people and the stars here, they shine brighter, I swear it. But even with all that wonder, I cannot help but think something is missing. I miss you. And Laenor. And Rhaenyra. And Alicent, and yes, even Gwayne, though I wouldn't say so to his face.
I miss you all more than I can say. I hope you're well, and I'll keep writing as often as I can. When I close my eyes, I can still hear your laugh. Tell me everything that you have done since our departure. I want to know it all.
Until then,
Your dearest friend,
Aemon Targaryen
Laena sighed, her gaze lingering on the letter in her hands. The words on the page had long since imprinted themselves into her mind, but still, she read them again. Aemon's handwriting was firm and clean, his voice so clear in her head it was as if he were speaking beside her.
The North.
It would be the place she'd likely spend most of her life, and yet it still felt like a faraway dream; cold, gray, and wild. When Aemon wrote of it, though, he made it sound like something out of a song, just as Southerners always did when speaking of the North. Mysterious, ancient, and brimming with wonders.
She was so caught up in his words that she didn't hear Rhaenyra's approach. "Rereading Aemon's letter again?"
Laena looked up, startled. Rhaenyra stood at the edge of the garden path, her sworn shield trailing behind her.
"Nyra, hey," Laena said with a smile, folding the letter gently in her lap. "And yes. I am."
Rhaenyra dropped onto the bench beside her with the easy grace of someone who belonged everywhere she went.
"I was reading mine again too," she admitted. "He sounds happy. They all do. Visenya wrote to me as well. She told me all about Winterfell, about the great hall, the hot springs, and some of the Northern lords and ladies. She seems to be having a grand time." Rhaenyra's voice softened a little. "At least she'll be joining us in the south once she turns ten, though that's still two years away."
Laena smiled faintly, setting the letter aside. "What do you think of your new ladies?"
Rhaenyra didn't answer at once. She glanced across the garden, lips pursed in thought.
"I'm… mixed," she said at last. "Lady Alinor Lannister and Lady Randa Lychester are both so serious. So proper. So... lady-like."
Then she coughed into her hand, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Am I not lady-like enough? Aren't Alicent or Visenya?" she asked, feigning outrage.
"You are, in your own way. But they… they're just so boring. All they want to do is embroider, gossip about boys, and listen to harp songs." Rhaenyra responded quickly, grinning.
"As for Alicent, she can be playful when she wants to be. And you, Laena Velaryon, I know you have been practicing swordplay when no one's watching or when you're with Aemon," Rhaenyra added as she gave her a fake serious look.
Laena blushed and looked down, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Only sometimes, and it's great fun when it turns into a game."
Those had been some of her happiest moments. She and Aemon race through the gardens of Dragonstone and Kingslanding or different places they had chosen, laughing, playing Catch Me, Save the Princess or some other play.
"I don't love swordplay," Rhaenyra confessed. "But I will admit I like archery. And reading about old battles or dragonlords. Alinor and Randa look like they swallowed a sour lemon anytime I mention it."
"Maybe it's because they're older than us," Laena added thoughtfully. "Alinor is three and ten, and Randa is twelve."
"So is Alicent," Rhaenyra countered. "But she's not half so stiff. She is a little too much into the gods sometimes, but she can still laugh. Still play."
Laena gave a small nod, then offered, "At least Mandy Strong is fun."
Rhaenyra's face lit up. "Yes! Especially when she made up Ghost in My Castle. That game is always a delight."
They both laughed, leaning into the memory.
Alicent Hightower (101 A.C. Twelfth Moon)
King's Landing, King's Chambers
"Your Grace, what would you like to read today?" Alicent asked softly, her hands folded neatly before her.
The aged King Jaehaerys lifted his head to meet his eyes with hers, giving a weary smile that didn't quite match the sadness behind them. The lines around his mouth had deepened in recent days, and a shadow hung over his countenance like a persistent fog.
"Something of the North, my dear," he said, his voice hoarse and brittle. "I wish to know more of the land where my favorite grandchild now lives."
Alicent offered him a warm smile, though the sorrow in his tone tugged at her heart. "If you wish, Your Grace. I shall go to the library and ask the maester for a book."
She dipped into a low curtsy, her green skirts sweeping the floor, and turned to go. As she moved toward the doors of the King's solar, she felt the weight of his grief pressing at her back like a cold wind.
The King's mood had not lifted since the raven came from Dragonstone. Princess Aemma had given birth to a stillborn boy. The babe had been born too small and pale. He had the unmistakable silver hair of Viserys, yet he had never drawn breath. Aemma had survived the birth, but the birth had been difficult.
Alicent's thoughts drifted to Rhaenyra. Her friend had been so excited at the thought of a younger sibling. She hadn't cared whether it would be a brother or a sister, only that the child would live. Alicent could still hear her voice, bright with hope, speaking of lullabies and lessons she'd planned to teach the baby when they were still taking lessons together.
She wished she could comfort her.
But Rhaenyra still had Laena and her new ladies. She was not without companionship. Still, Alicent couldn't help but miss her, miss all her old friends. Letters came, of course, but ink and parchment were cold things and did little to ease the loneliness.
Spending time with the King had become another kind of peace. Reading to him most days had not only won her his trust but taught her more than the Septa ever had. The Septa's lessons were narrow and focused on virtue, duty, the Faith, tales of maidens and heroes, and the names of great houses. But the histories she read to the spook of ancient kings, of old battles, political intrigue, and much more. She had come to crave them.
The soft clang of the chamber door closing behind her drew her back to the present. In the hallway outside, a pair of guards stood at attention.
"Good morrow, my lady," said Ser Addam Tarth with a courteous nod.
"Ser Addam, Ser Simon," Alicent replied with practiced grace, acknowledging both men with a gentle smile as she passed. They bowed slightly in return.
The corridors of the Red Keep were quieter than usual. A hush had fallen over the castle since the news from Dragonstone, and even the bustling court seemed to move with solemnity.
King Jaehaerys had called Aemon his favorite grandchild. The boy, the only son of Baelon and Lyanna, had been sent to the North with his mother and younger siblings to the agreed-upon foster, but also to begin learning how to rule his land in Seadragon Point when he became ten.
Alicent might have missed him the most of all the friends she made in King's Landing. He felt closest to her age; she loved Rhaenyra, yet she was still four and a half years younger than her. Aemon often acted older and seemed kind, yet with a determined mind that reminded her of her father. She smiled as she tried to picture him; his grey eyes, almost silver or the color of Valyrian steel, were from the First Men.
His unique eyes had made her curious about the First Men and their culture, prompting her to read about the North and to reread his letters.
Turning another corner, she descended a short flight of steps and passed through an arched doorway, entering the more shadowed, cool parts of the castle. The scent of parchment and old wood began to fill the air. Her pace quickened slightly.
And then, at last, she pushed open the carved oak door that led into the library.
Otto Hightower (101 A.C. Twelfth Moon)
Kingslanding – Tower of the Hand
Otto Hightower smiled faintly as Lord Beesbury finished detailing the increased donations Faith was receiving from the royal treasury after a few moons of removing the ridiculous gifts to smallfolk and increasing payments to the upkeep of the sewage system.
"The Seven who are one smile upon the gifts, Lord Beesbury," Otto said smoothly, taking a sip of watered wine as he leaned back in his high-backed chair. "And the crown's continued generosity will not be forgotten by the faith."
Nor by the Faith. Nor by its followers. Nor by those whose loyalties could be gently nudged with gold and faithfulness.
It had been ten moons since Jaehaerys named him Hand, and in that time, Prince Viserys had been named Prince of Dragonstone, the King's chosen heir after the Great Council at Harrenhal. A useful choice. Predictable. Malleable. A man of peace and one who seemed to trust his counsel.
He also had made some headway with Prince Daemon. Still, the matter of succession lingered in his mind like a dagger's edge.
The King had only a daughter and two younger brothers. While Princess Rhaenyra had her father's favor, the crown's succession currently held a strong precedent that the male would inherit before a daughter. It had been so after King Jaehaerys named Baelon over Rhaenys after Aemon's death and had been even further back with Jaehaerys his own succession over the daughters of Aegon the Uncrowned, as well as his own elder sister Rhaena.
Brothers came before daughters. Such was the tradition set. Daemon was the heir and would remain so unless Aemma Arryn bore a living son, which after the tragedy at Dragonstone, seemed less likely with every passing moon.
And if Daemon remained heir...
Otto's fingers tapped idly against the arm of his chair as he considered the possibilities once more. A thought he mused came to him. It wasn't a secret that Daemon's marriage to Lady Rhea Royce was an unhappy one and an unconsummated one at that. So, it could not even be called a true marriage in the eyes of the Faith.
After Harrenhall, Daemon had not returned to the Vale. Instead, he had switched between traveling to Essos and visiting Dragonstone and King's Landing. In the city, people had already started to expect his presence, and by all accounts, it was a welcome one.
If the match could be set aside, Alicent would soon flower into womanhood. They could play on that. His daughter was becoming more beautiful by the day, and she was both modest and clever. Much more importantly, however, she already held the King's trust. If she were to be joined to Daemon...
His attention shifted back to the Small Council chamber as the newest voice among them began to speak.
"Speaking of the Faith, my lords," said Lord Carlton Marbrand, "the sept at Maidenpool has sent a request to raise arms against a group calling themselves the Band of the Leaf."
Lord Marbrand, newly appointed to the council, sat with an upright bearing and clear conviction. He was a man of principle, devoted to the Faith, and a true vassal to the Lannisters, man through and through. Otto had placed him on the council to reward the Western lord for their support for Viserys and his own plans. They were demanding more influence, but the move had also brought him a useful voice, pious, firm, and loyal.
"The Band of the Leaf?" Otto echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Indeed, Lord Hand," Marbrand said. "A group of outlaws has taken refuge in the lands near Maidenpool. They've attacked minor septs and looted shrines. Some say they've even desecrated altars. The local septon pleads for the right to take up arms and hunt them down."
Before Otto could respond, the Master of Ships interjected. Lord Corlys Velaryon had returned to court only a moon past, and his presence had subtly altered the balance of the council. More than once, he had challenged Otto.
"This surely cannot be permitted," Corlys said, his tone calm but firm. "Since the reign of Maegor, the Faith's right to bear arms has been revoked. That law still stands. If brigands are plaguing the lands, then surely Lord Mooton of Maidenpool can handle the matter."
"You speak truly, my lord," Otto said smoothly, always careful to acknowledge the Sea Snake's standing. "Yet if a septon appeals directly to the crown, is it not our duty to at least consider intervention?"
Corlys gave a slow nod, though his expression was tight with reluctance. "If this truly is a matter for the crown, then I suggest the Master of Laws be dispatched with a small force to investigate. Should he find the threat legitimate, then let him act accordingly, with leave from us."
Otto inclined his head, considering. Corlys, as ever, made good sense, though grudgingly. "Very well. Lord Marbrand, I will assign ten of my own household men and ten from the City Watch. Bring ten of your own household and ride to Maidenpool. Investigate the claims and restore order if needed."
He paused. "Before you depart, I will provide a sealed writ authorizing you to act on behalf of the crown."
Lord Marbrand bowed his head. "As you command, Lord Hand. If there is injustice, I will see it ended."
The council moved on to lesser matters, grain shipments being delayed from Reach, causing increased prices of bread in the city, repairs to the Dragonpit's roof, and the allocation of coins for the upcoming feast day of the Mother. All the while, Otto's mind schemed about the future ahead.
Hello everyone!
If you've enjoyed my stories and would like to support my work, consider joining my community. Your support means the world to me and helps me continue creating the content you and I love.
By becoming a Patreon, you'll get access to exclusive benefits like:
- Early access to new chapters (Up to three months ahead)
- Writing and story updates.
- Access to concept art for the stories.
- And, of course, you will support me.
- And much more!
Join now and be part of a community that loves and supports creativity. Your contribution makes a huge difference and allows me to keep bringing you exciting new stories.
If you want to join, go to Patreon. Copy this link : www.patreon.com/HeroDut1998
Thank you for all your support!
(This link will be added to all the stories that will hit five chapters)