For a century, the Targaryens held sway over the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros: from the arid deserts of Dorne to the icy expanses of the North, from the verdant plains of the Reach to the rugged coasts of the Stormlands. Yet, amidst the splendor of th...
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»The king will not be pleased that she's interrupting his speech,« Ser Harwin whispered to Siveen, who glanced at Viserys, gaping at his wife with shock written all over his face. Suddenly, Daemon seemed to be the least of the problems in the room, despite his deliberate entrance.
»I think that's the least of his worries. The beacon of the Hightower's,« Siveen remarked, noting the queen's green dress, a stark contrast to the Targaryen attire. »When Oldtown calls to arms, do you know what color it burns?« Oldtown was the second-largest city in all the Seven Kingdoms, still ruled by the Hightowers, vassals of the Tyrells.
»Green?« Harwin asked ironically, and Siveen nodded as the queen walked past the insolently seated Daemon to her husband.
»I congratulate you, stepdaughter. What a blessing for you,« the queen said menacingly to Rhaenyra, calling her stepdaughter for the first time. She then kissed her husband on the cheek, who still stood there, frozen. Siveen furrowed her brow and glanced at her brother, who was nervously shifting from foot to foot. He no longer seemed to be watching Rhaenyra but was fixated on the queen. The thought that Henryk might have told Queen Alicent something struck Siveen like a blow, but surely, he wouldn't be foolish enough to do that. Or would he?
Otto Hightower walked past Daemon without giving him a glance, congratulated the princess and her future husband as well, then seated himself between his daughter and Daemon. Daemon's expression as the two settled near him was almost amusing to Siveen, yet it was also well-deserved. She fervently hoped Otto would keep Daemon on edge all evening, annoying him and, hopefully, keeping him away from her.
»Please, take your seats,« Viserys instructed his people, who complied, returning to their former places. »Where was I?« he whispered to Rhaenyra, just loud enough for Siveen to hear. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
»The union of the two houses,« his daughter prompted, and he turned back to the crowd with a forced smile. Siveen lowered her gaze to the ground as Otto Hightower now stared at her, thankfully forcing Daemon to focus his attention elsewhere. He seemed to be staring blankly at a wall, lost in thought.
»Yes,« the King cleared his throat again and resumed his speech. »When House Targaryen and House Velaryon are united, I hope a second Age of Dragons will begin in Westeros!« he proclaimed, and the crowd applauded once more. »And following this small reception tonight, there shall be seven days of tournaments and festivities!« The applause grew louder, a cacophony of clapping rather than a harmonious cheer.
»And at the end of it all, the marriage between my daughter, my heir, your future queen, and Ser Laenor, the heir of Driftmark!« were the last words the King said before sitting down with his family, as the crowd finally stilled their hands. Despite the applause, it was clear among the attendees that not everyone was convinced by his speech, especially about the part where Rhaenyra would become their future queen. Although all the houses had sworn their oaths, such promises held little weight in these times, despite claims to the contrary.
