LAENYS VELARYON, Lady of the Tides, princess of Dragonstone, youngest daughter of Corlys Velaryon-Lord of the Tides-and Rhaenys Targaryen-the Queen Who Never Was.
No one in all the realms believed that Rhaenys was with child when she announced it pu...
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(gore, themes of violence)
The morning came swiftly, and Laenys had barely slept. She lay on her back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, haunted by memories of her nephew. Tears welled in her eyes as she recalled the last time she kissed the top of his head, adorned with brunette curls. His sweet smile, reminiscent of her brother Laenor's, lingered in her mind.
Laenys breathed with a shudder, wiping away the tears that curved down her cheeks. She rose from the bed, letting her bare feet touch the cold floor, sending a shiver down her spine. She straightened and walked to the window behind the bed, the almost silver light from the sun filtering through her sleeping gown, another kind gesture from the Lord of the North. Her curly white hair, freed from any braid, draped down her back.
She crossed her arms as she watched the world below. The gates opened, and a man with a light blue cloak atop a black horse entered, a cart attached to the animal. The cart held buckets of ale, wine, and fruits. She could hear the cheers of excitement from the men. "The gods have blessed us, haha!" one of them yelled before grabbing one of the barrels and running off, quickly followed by a commander threatening to take a finger if it wasn't returned.
Laenys observed closely; this place was entirely different from her own. Everyone seemed so... oblivious to the war ahead. Or perhaps they just celebrated the days as they came.
A knock sounded on her door, causing her to turn her head. "It is Cregan," she heard his deep voice behind the wood. "Come in," she said. The door opened, and Cregan peeked in with a broad smile.
"Good morrow, I have brought breakfast," he declared, entering with a tray of fruits, cheese, bread, and a vase of wine. "I ordered the cooks to bring in their finest wines and fruits... well, as fine as they can be." He placed the tray on the table in front of the grey couch before standing straight, looking at the princess. So the cart she had just seen must have been for her, she thought. How annoyingly kind he was, she also thought.
Cregan's gaze lingered on Laenys, noticing her modest sleeping gown. Though simple, it couldn't conceal her beauty—the way the sunlight made her eyes shine brighter, how her pale, drawn skin seemed to glow like gold. Her silver hair looked soft to the touch, and the thought made him stumble over his words like a lovesick fool.
"D- Did you enjoy your res- your s-sleep, Your Grace?" he stammered, mentally cursing himself. He was no maiden, well-versed in the art of charm. Yet she rendered him speechless. Laenys turned to face him, walking towards the grey couch, her gown trailing behind her. She sat, appearing as if she had something to get off her chest. "I could not sleep," she confessed, dispelling Cregan's nervousness. He joined her on the other end of the couch.
"Was the chamber not to your liking? W-were you cold?" he asked urgently. Laenys shook her head, her eyes meeting his.
"It doesn't matter now; justice will be served soon enough," she said, and Cregan could have sworn he saw a flicker of fire in her violet eyes.
