Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Forty One

As Rhaenyra descended the grand stone staircase, the palpable tension in the chamber seemed to amplify with each step she took

Flanked by her elite Queensguard, she moved with a regal poise and authority that commanded attention. Her head held high and her gaze fixed forward, she exuded an air of fierce determination and unshakable resolve. The echoes of her heels striking against the hard stone floor only added to the sense of drama and intensity in the room, leaving no doubt that this was a woman who possessed true power and was not to be underestimated.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Daemon stepped forward, his voice ringing out clearly as he announced her. "Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Rhaenyra stood still for a moment, and surveyed the room.

With a subtle gesture, she beckoned Rhaena, her trusted cupbearer, to follow her and Baela, who was standing beside Rhaenys, to join her at the table. Rhaena and Baela took their places on either side of Luke and Jace, who stood at the flanks of Aesira. As Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, she was fully prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead and do whatever was necessary to protect her realm.

As Rhaenyra positioned herself at the head of the Painted Table, the room fell into a hush as all eyes turned to the members of her official black council, standing around the table. The weight of their responsibility hung heavily in the air as they prepared to discuss the matters of state that would determine the fate of the kingdom. But Rhaenyra was undaunted, unafraid to make the difficult decisions required to safeguard her people and her realm.

Rhaenyra's black council was a diverse group of lords, each with their own unique strengths and weaknesses. Among them was Lord Bartimos Celtigar, the portly Lord of Claw Isle, known for his sharp intellect and cunning wit.

Beside him was Lord Staunton, the stoic Lord of Rook's Rest, his face etched with seriousness.

Lord Gormon Massey, the impulsive Lord of Stonedance, sat nervously fidgeting, his fingers drumming against the table in agitation.

Young Lord Bar Emmon of Sharp Point seemed ill at ease, his face pale with apprehension.

Lord Gunthor Darklyn, the sour-faced Lord of Duskendale, scowled at his colleagues, his distrust of them written plainly on his face.

Rhaenyra's personal maester, Maester Gerardys, stood across from her, his expression neutral as he observed the proceedings with a keen eye.

Rhaenyra spoke up, her voice clear and commanding as she broke the silence, "Let us begin by assessing our current standing. What are our numbers and resources?"

Daemon, her trusted advisor, husband and commander of her military forces, was the first to respond. "Your Grace, we have thirty knights, one hundred skilled crossbowmen, and three hundred men-at-arms under our command." He paused, his gaze scanning the room as he continued, "Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, as it was built to withstand sieges. However, as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves much to be desired. We will need to consider how best to bolster our forces."

Rhaenyra's expression grew grave as she heard the report of their military standing. "What actions can we take to improve our position?" she asked, her voice stern.

Daemon let out a sigh before responding. "I have reached out to the City Watch of King's Landing for support, but I cannot yet confirm the numbers we can expect from them. Our best bet is to try to gain the support of as many lords as possible and increase our forces through alliances and alliances" He paused, his gaze steady as he looked at Rhaenyra, "We must also consider diplomatic means to gain support, such as offering favorable terms and concessions to potential allies.