You've been brought to King's Landing by Princess Rhaenyra's search for her next lady in waiting. While your father, Lord Tyrell, and brother are hopeful for your prospects should you be chosen to serve the Princess, you're having doubts about leavi...
He was kind; he'd never laid a hand on Princess Rhaenyra. He'd been knighted at a young age, and had proved to be an asset to the Crown during the war in the Stepstones. He was daring; he'd claimed Seasmoke, one of the more nimble and faster dragons that the Targaryens boasted.
But, like all others, Ser Laenor also had his shortcomings.
As you purposefully entered the banquet hall you'd been directed to by a chambermaid, you frowned immediately at the sight that you were met with.
Ser Laenor was seated upon one of the tables in the middle of the room, apparently having decided that a chair was not suitable for such a purpose. His most recent companion, Ser Qarl Correy, was seated upon the table as well, right beside him. The pair talked loudly about something you couldn't quite pick out the specifics of amongst their inebriated babblings.
You continued to watch with dissatisfaction as Ser Qarl raised a goblet of wine to you as a poor form of greeting before handing off said goblet to his drinking partner.
A few servants waited in the periphery of the scene, ready to jump in and assist the prince consort with whatever he may require at a moment's notice. The looks on their faces ranged from neutral to weary.
"My Lord."
Ser Laenor flinched at your bellow, but regained his composure fairly quickly. "Good morrow, Lady Tyrell!" He took another gulp of wine and before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "How fare thee? Ser Qarl and I were just breaking our fast."
The near empty plates beside and around their seated rear ends had gone unnoticed initially. You'd been far too distracted by the notion of Princess Rhaenyra's husband and his companion already indulging themselves at such an early hour of the morn.
Ser Laenor inquired curiously, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"I was told the Princess's labors are drawing to a close," you informed him neutrally. "Perhaps you might be a bit more... coherent, when you go to her?"
"... Ah, yes, yes. Of course."
Despite your increasing irritation with the situation, you knew better than to show it. You bowed your head and gave the pair a strained smile before excusing yourself without another word.
Ironically, Ser Laenor Velaryon's degree of interest in his family was like the weather over the sea: constantly changing with the seasons and tides.
And, for all the many things that he was, Ser Laenor Velaryon had never been a particularly attentive father- a fact that had cultivated a dangerous situation for you and the ones closest to you over the past decade.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As you made your way through the halls of the Red Keep, headed back from whence you'd come, you realized with dread that the castle had begun to awaken for the day.
