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10 || THE FEAST OF FRACTURES

10 || THE FEAST OF FRACTURES

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KINGS LANDING || 130 AC

𝕿he warmth of the hall did little to chase away the cold emptiness that settled in Daena's heart as she took her seat at the grand feast. The Dining Hall of the Red Keep was alive with the sounds of merriment and clinking goblets, the air thick with the rich aromas of roasted meats and spiced wines. Tapestries depicting the glorious history of House Targaryen adorned the walls, their vibrant colours illuminated by the soft glow of countless candles and flickering torches. Laughter and music mingled together, creating a sound that should have filled Daena with joy, but instead only served to highlight the profound absence she felt deep within her soul.

Daena settled gracefully into her seat in the middle of her sister, Princess Rhaenyra her silver-gold hair cascading over the deep crimson of her gown. She offered a polite smile to those around her, but her violet eyes betrayed a lingering sadness that only those closest to her could truly understand. The seat to her left remained empty, a reminder that her husband, Gwayne, was not by her side. Daena knew Gwayne never liked going to King's Landing; how he always described the walls of the Red Keep that always seemed to close in on him, suffocating under the weight of his father's manipulative presence and the strained expectations of his sister. The city, with its endless schemes and whispers, only reminded him of the power struggles that tore at the fabric of their family, making each visit a bitter reminder of the ties he wished he could get rid of. But it still made her feel empty without him by her side.

Her children, Baelon, Elaeys, and Alerae took their places across from her, their youthful faces bearing the unmistakable features of their Targaryen heritage. Baelon, the elder at sixteen, carried himself with a maturity beyond his years, his sharp gaze observing the room with keen awareness. Elaeys, just a year younger, possessed a quiet strength, his demeanour calm but his eyes alert. The scar that marred Elaeys' face—a cruel reminder from a past altercation with their half-uncle Aemond—served as a constant, painful reminder of the family's internal strife. Alerae, who sat beside her twin brother had her quiet strength and a sharp mind, and was a reflection of both her mother's grace and her father's resilience, embodying a fierce determination that belied her gentle demeanour.

As servants moved gracefully between the tables, filling goblets and laying out platters overflowing with delicacies, King Viserys entered, assisted by his loyal Kings Guard. The room rose in unison to honour the King, whose health had visibly deteriorated, but whose presence still commanded respect. He offered a weary but genuine smile to his family before taking his place at the head of the table. Once the king was set down, the assembly followed suit, and the feast commenced in earnest. Daena watched as Viserys struggled to maintain a façade of strength, his eyes clouded but filled with warmth as he looked upon his gathered kin. Her gaze shifted to Rhaenyra, who sat close to their father, her face a portrait of poised dignity tempered by concern. Daena reached out, giving her sister's hand a gentle squeeze beneath the table, a silent show of support and solidarity.

𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝙒𝙄𝘾𝙆𝙀𝘿 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 ⚝ g.hightowerWhere stories live. Discover now