Tourney grounds, King's Landing
105 AC
Laela grimaced as she watched the tourney. She hated tourney's—she hated the fact it was a sport.
The casual attitude everyone possessed to watching people fight and bleed and suffer, and sometimes die, for nothing more than their entertainment.
It reminded her of the Triwizard Tournament.
Glory and honour was heaped upon the winners of these bloodbaths, rewards showered down on the winner, and Laena felt the weight of a thousand Galleon—nothing more than blood money.
Cedric was gallant.
Cedric was noble.
Cedric was brave.
Cedric was, more than anything else, good.
And what did he get?
A brutal, swift death, away from everything and everyone he loved.
She feared the day Laenor, her twin, would enter a tourney.
"Laela? Do you not wish to watch?" Rhaenys asked. Rhaenys's pale violet eyes met her youngest daughter's light violet eyes.
It was not hard to love Rhaenys. The women who taught her daughters how to fight and sew, to play the game and let them claim dragons.
It wasn't hard to love Corlys. The man who taught all three of his children the lessons typically only a lord and an heir would get, how to sail a boat, who told them of his nine great voyages.
Laena and Laenor weren't hard to love, either.
Laela loved her parents and siblings with every fiber of her body.
Lily and James had died for her, but Rhaenys and Corlys were right there. She was sure Lily and James wouldn't mind.
"No." she mumbled. "Can I go flying?"
She then saw Otto Hightower whisper something to Viserys. The small council left the tourney booth.
Outside King's Landing, the Crownlands
105 AC
Queen Aemma was dead, along with the prince she had died giving birth to.
"They're waiting for you." she told Rhaenyra. Syrax stood at the top of the hill, waiting for her riders command.
"I wonder if during those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness." the Realm's Delight answered.
"Your father needs you. More than ever now." the Pearl of the Sea said gently yet firmly. She pushed a stand of her white-gold hair back.
"I will never be a son." Rhaenyra murmured but she stepped forward. Syrax looked at her rider.
"D—" Rhaenyra swallowed a lump in her throat. "Dracarys."
Syrax walked down the hill, and set the funeral pyres alight with yellow flames.
Death.
Yes mistress?
Make sure Aemma and Baelon are taken care of.
Of course.
Laela silently watched as the yellows flames consumed the two pyres and the stone coffins—the larger one for Aemma, and the smaller one for Baelon.
Unawre of the Targaryen prince watching her thoughtfully.
That is today's chapter. I hope you have all enjoyed it!
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Dance with Dragonfire
FanfictionThe youngest child of the Queen Who Never Was never wanted to play the game. But one must play the game or die. For tensions rise in the court of the Young King, and the realm knows one thing. Blood will spill once the king dies. And the wife of th...
