The Sound of Storms ▻ House of the Dragon

CHAPTER SEVEN

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The Iron throne was vacant again.

Cold and desolate it stood plainly in the throne room. Isidore stood in front of it, the two lengths of melded swords flowing down either side like rivers of steel. The procession slowly filtered out of the Throne Room after the Coronation. The King was being doted on by his mother and the eager Lords following them to give their congratulation eventually leaving the throne room empty.

Isidore stood where Aegon had kneeled before the gods, a crown placed on his head, and was named king. She wondered if her coronation would be the same. Shaking as she was named Queen and Isidore wondered if her mother had felt the same when she had become a ruler too. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as Isidore approached the sword that had caught her eye during the ceremony. Reaching out, her fingers glided over the silver and gold hilt, wings carved of steel inlaid to create an ornate hand guard. The blade had been welded into another sword and anger swelled in Isidore as she thought of someone so carelessly handling the weapon.

"It's tempting, isn't it? The Iron Throne?" A voice called out reverberating around the room. Isidore turned and retracted her hand from the sword as she looked to see who had joined. Aemond stood near the entrance, the doors had been quietly closed behind him. He still wore his ceremonial clothing and sword as he watched Isidore with hands clasped behind his back.

Isidore looked towards the Iron Throne then she laughed quietly, "No, not at all. The Iron Throne is far too grand a seat for someone like me,"

The prince tilted his head, "What do you mean by that? Do you know how many people have tried their hand to get to sit on that throne?"

"I have no wish to rule over Seven Kingdoms. One throne and one kingdom is more than plenty," Isidore replied. Aemond walked up the stairs to the platform where Isidore stood. Their shoulder's nearly touched as he stood beside her.

"What has caught your attention then?"

Isidore reached out to touch the hilt of the silver sword. "Do you know who this belonged to?"

Aemond frowned as he examined the sword. It seemed just as unremarkable as all of the other swords melded together. At one point It might have been something stunning but now it was faded with time.

"I can't say I do. There are hundreds of swords here," He gestured out to the other slews of fused swords, "I don't know the histories behind every one of them,"

Isidore's eyes stayed on the weapon in front of her, "This is Windfell, my Grandfather's sword,"

Aemond didn't say anything so Isidore continued, "It was said to have been lost after the Storm, after the betrayal. But now I see it has become a collector's item, another conquered sword. Though my people were never conquered. My Grandfather Syros wielded this sword as he fought beside Jaehaerys, not against him. It has no place here,"

The princess crouched down and placed her hand against the blade of Windfell, where the steel had been melded into another sword. There was a warmth in her palm as she willed the steel to heat up the blade, turning a bright red, then orange, and eventually white as it grew hotter and hotter. Smoke rose between Isidore's fingertips as iron smoldered underneath her palm.

With a swift tug on the hilt of the sword was cleanly removed from the sea of steel. Running her hand over the fractured molten tip of the blade she willed the iron to cool beneath her touch. When it did Isidore held up the sword, half of the blade and the tip had been destroyed when it had originally been added to the other swords leaving only about a foot of steel and the hilt.