Fire and Blood | A.Targaryen

Orange Embers

Warnings - nail biting, mentioned war, conflict, hinted abuse, mentioned grief/just grief, mentioning of funerals

A/n - This is quite long and took a while to write. I have watched the new episode and the poor dog getting kicked. I can't handle animals being hurt. I need to revise for an exam tomorrow, but I thought I'd wrote this first. Wish me luck. Hopefully I do well, but I'm to sure because my teachers for this class is hardly ever in. I skimmed it for any mistakes and did the best I could do at the moment once it has been completed I will edit it and may and stuff in or take some out, we'll have to wait and see. I just had to add in the iconic bit from Daemon where he's speaking to Otto it's my favourite part from episode 10

HAPPY READING < 3

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It was beautiful. You had to admit. The way the orange illuminated under the table. The way the cold room warmed from the fire after the biting cold of outside which the stone never truly kept out. 

I stood beside Baela awaiting Rhaenyra, my heart thumped with every impending echoey footstep that haunted the halls. I was not afraid. No. More in awe, in a sense, to see a woman sit the throne or will sit the throne. It was breathtaking. That was the true beauty.

The orange glow was hers. Her castle. Her council. Her crown. Her throne. Her war table. 

But our war.

I bowed my head as my father's voice rang through as he listed Rhaenyra's titles. They swam in my head - so surreal. Rhaenyra stepped forward, honking metal following until she fell short, the men only one toe behind. None of them blinked. A warning. The unsettling feeling of unbatting-eyed clunking metal men behind you, are all too familiar. But they listened to her. Their Queen.

They stepped back some and remained in place. 

I watched as Rhaena moved forward cup in hand, "Wine my Queen." Rhaenyra seemed unsettled, hesitating to take the cup, but still my mother's smile lay perfect on my little sister's face.

"Thank you, Rhaena." Her voice was still soft. Mothering. "Come."

Rhaenyra continued her path forward with Rhaena a step behind her before she turned to Baela nodding for her to follow with a small gentle smile as her eyes met mine. Baela looked at our grandsire for permission before moving in step just a short pace behind. They all gathered around the table. 

I moved closer to Rhaenys.

It was silent. For a minute. Nothing, but crashing waves and flittering ocean breeze. All eyes remained on the Queen. Awaiting judgement. Awaiting anything at all. 

"What is our standing?" The only place she seemed to be able to look was at my father. 

"We have thirty knights, one hundred and three hundred men-at-arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired..." my father's voice seemed to drone on, but all I could hear still were his silent cries on the beach. Mournful cries. So similar. Like those I cried at my mother's funeral. 

Strange how age doesn't influence grief. Just the person who was lost.

I watched as Jace placed pieces onto the board. Each house which has (so far) rallied to our side. "Lord Boris Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises." Rhaenyra's voice carried and silence followed. 

I looked to the floor. The way my dress skirted across my shoes. The clinking of metal against wood was loud. Like when Aegon used to whack at Aemond's wooden sword with his steel one. I jumped as the Queen's voice flowed in my direction.