The Green Queen

Chapter 23: For the loved ones we lost

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Criston

Ser Criston Cole stood at the edge of the training yard, his eyes fixed on the castle above. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the walls of King’s Landing. The warmth of the day was fading, replaced by the cool embrace of the evening. Yet, no amount of chill could numb the burning pain in his heart.

He had been in love with Queen Alicent(his heart ache that he could no longer call her lady.) for as long as he could remember. Her laughter was like a melody that stayed with him long after it had faded into the air. Her smile could light up the darkest corners of his soul. She had been his friend, his confidante, and his beloved. And now, she was lost to him forever.

Alicent’s father, Otto Hightower, had arranged for her to marry King Viserys Targaryen. It was a political maneuver, a step to solidify the Hightower’s power within the realm. But to Criston, it was a knife to the heart. He had watched, helpless, as she was led away, adorned in silks and jewels, to a future that had no place for him.

The memory of her final farewell haunted him. She had stood before him, her eyes filled with tears that she fought to hold back. “I must do this, Criston,” she had whispered, her voice breaking. “For my family, for the realm.”

He had nodded, unable to speak, his throat tight with emotion. He had wanted to beg her to stay, to run away with him, to defy their fate. But he had said nothing, knowing it would only make things harder for her. He had kissed her hand, the last gesture of a love that would remain unspoken, and watched her walk away.

Now, every corner of the castle was filled with memories of her. The corridors echoed with her laughter, the gardens bloomed with flowers she loved, and every whisper of the wind carried her name. He felt like a ghost, haunting the places they had once shared.

He couldn’t escape the image of her, standing beside the king, a queen in all but name. She wore her new role with grace, her head held high, but Criston could see the sadness in her eyes. A sadness that he knows mirrored his own. He knew she was fulfilling her duty, but it didn’t lessen the ache in his chest.

Criston’s nights were the hardest. He would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying every moment they had spent together. Her laughter, her touch, the way she had looked at him with eyes filled with love. It was a torment, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

He threw himself into his duties as a Kingsguard, training harder than ever before, hoping to numb the pain with physical exhaustion. But no amount of training could erase her from his mind. He would catch glimpses of her around the castle, a flash of dark brown hair, a soft voice, and it would all come crashing back.

The other knights noticed the change in him. Ser Harwin Strong had commented on his relentless training, his fierce determination. “You’re like a man possessed,” Harwin had said, half-jokingly. Criston had only nodded, unable to explain the depths of his sorrow.

He knew he had to move on, to find a way to live without her. But the wound was too fresh, the pain too deep. Every day was a struggle, every moment a reminder of what could have been. He was a knight, sworn to protect the realm, but he couldn’t protect his own heart.

Criston found solace in the quiet moments, when he could steal away to the godswood and lose himself in prayer. He would kneel before the weirwood tree, its ancient face watching over him, and pour out his heart. He prayed for strength, for peace, for the pain to fade. But most of all, he prayed for her happiness.