❝I am not a dragon, Aemond Targaryen. You may have claimed me as yours, but to think I'd bend that easily? That is beyond foolish.❞
⟼ Ayla Bolton & Aemond Targaryen: bound by marriage, strengthened by love, ignited by madness.
𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻𝘆 |...
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››a prince and a promise
The whole arena explodes in a roar as soon as the Swyft knight clashes against the pit's soil, crawling weakly until he is carried away deadweight and with his pride shattered. An easy win for house Baratheon, he could barely hold his lance in place. This round was everything but thrilling, but since this whole day is in my honor, I feel like I had to smile, even if nobody from the folk's stands would see it.
What they could easily see, though, is the empty seat on my right side, a seat that should not be vacant in the most absolute way. Not today. Not at our betrothal feast.
Old habits are hard to die, I guess.
Aemond's absence buggers me a bit, quite frankly. I am not used to be in the spotlight, and the attention being split in half was giving me the comfort I needed not to fake some kind of illness to spend the rest of the day trapped in my chambers.
That is not the only reason of my concerns. The whole royal family is here, and the air is utterly thick. Once again, it feels like I am being thrown into a mess that does not belong to me. I have no reason to glance coldly at Rhaenyra and her children, but at the same time, I am almost compelled to. Being neutral is not a privilege granted to me anymore.
"There is no need to be nervous, Lady Ayla." Helaena's statement leaves me taken aback, I thought I was concealing my nervousness with ease. "It will be over sooner than you think." She adds in a sympathetic tone.
"I am a bit bewildered." I admit, "I have always attended feasts as a guest." And I rarely had fun, I would like to say, but then I remember it is still her family I am talking about. Everything is so new it is equally alluring and frightening.
"It must be quite liberating." Helaena comments in a dreamy voice. I do not have the heart to contradict her, attending royal celebrations as a lower rank noble family is anything but liberating.
It is a bloody torture. Especially if your mother has some kind of fixation on perfection.
"It's not, is it?" She cajoled happily. "You are quite expressive, Lady Ayla." Helaena points out, giggling so lightly, I almost missed that out.
"Oh please Princess, you can call me just Ayla if you wish." Her eyes widen as soon as I stopped talking, and I am afraid I said something wrong.
"This is a privilege it should be granted to you as well, Ayla." I like Helaena. Before coming to the Red Keep, mother always said she was the mad one of this generation of Targaryen, but I just think she is very sweet and kind.
"Thank you, Helaena." I say with the first sincere smile on my lips since this morning.
"I am not too fond of tourneys myself." She reveals, "I found them quite brutal." I nod approvingly.
"Oh yes, especially when they resume their fighting on foot." Helaena shakes her head, a disgusted scowl appears on her soft face. The only thing I find brutal about tourneys is the angsty feeling of fright it comes with them whenever someone you care for happens to be competing. When you do not feel like watching, but your guts still tell you to do it. As if looking at them would be enough to prevent something terrible to happen.
