Lord of Runestone || Rhaenyra Targaryen

Chapter Nine

"There's quite a crowd here to see you." Yrsa said as she is making sure everything is perfect in Baelon's appearance for the feast. "It's a shame I can't keep you company."

Prince Baelon frowned. "Why not?"

Yrsa's tone turned cold. "My father is here. I'd rather not see him."

"Oh."

Yrsa smiled, "You're all set now."

He turned around. "Thank you for always helping." Yet, his anxiety showed as he confessed, "I'm not sure why I'm so nervous about this."

Yrsa snorted. "Why are you? You've attended dozens of feasts before."

"I suppose because this is the first one dedicated to me. Except for the one they held when I was born, but of course, I don't remember it."

Rolling her eyes, Yrsa chuckled. "Obviously. You have nothing to worry about. It's just your people and the same old lords with their tedious political chatter as always."

"You're right," he admitted, a small smile forming. "It's no different from the other feasts."

"Precisely."

Prince Baelon clasped his friend's hands, planting a quick and gentle kiss on them before heading towards the door, poised to greet the awaiting guests. However, the voice of Yrsa halted his steps.

"Baelon?"

He turned slightly, meeting Yrsa's concerned gaze. "Yes, Yrsa?"

With a hint of uncertainty, she struggled to find the right words. Eventually, she sighed, defeated. "Those people will undoubtedly ask about Rhaenyra. You might want to steer clear of those conversations. They can be brutally candid. Yet, some will take pride in the fact that the daughter of a woman from the Vale will ascend to the throne. Just... don't be caught off guard when some of them barrage you with questions."

***

"Ah, cousin, you've freshened up well," Williams teased, "Keeping your guests guessing your whereabouts. Quite rude of you."

Baelon and William strolled among the guests, exchanging greetings and warm smiles as they sipped their wine. The gathering was sizable, a testament to the celebration of Baelon's return. Rhea Royce, unable to contain her joy, reveled in the festivities. After all, her son meant the world to her.

"I was simply savoring the moment, William. And I trust you kept them entertained in my absence."

"You could say that," he smirked again, a smirk Baelon knew so well. "Besides, I was quite engrossed in conversation with Lady Elayne Belmore."

Baelon raised an eyebrow. "Lady Belmore? I recall you being rather taken with Lady Shett. You used to talk about her incessantly and trailed after her like a loyal hound."

"Well," William cleared his throat, annoyance flashing across his face at the mention of Lady Shett, "circumstances change, dear cousin. Lady Shett's affections lie elsewhere now. She's set to marry that insufferable lad... the future Lord of Coldwater — Stan."

"Blimey. I remember how smitten you were, already planning out your future babes with her," Baelon chuckled. It had been a whimsical fantasy of William's since he was seven, but it seemed that dream was now shattered. "So, Lady Belmore? Is she your new muse then?"

"Indeed. She's stunning, though a tad bossy, I must say, but stunning nonetheless. Her fiery red hair is simply... mesmerizing," William remarked, taking a sip of his wine. "Exquisite."

"Baelon," Lord Gerald Grafton's stern voice cut through the conversation. Yrsa's father . "You've had quite a few days. How are you holding up? You must be feeling betrayed."