A Bond Between Dragons

silent air [008]

The training yard was a bustling tableau of exertion and camaraderie. The sun cast a warm, golden light over the scene, its rays dancing on the steel of swords and the sweat-slicked faces of the combatants. The ground was churned and scarred from countless practice sessions, a testament to the relentless pursuit of martial prowess. The clang of metal on metal rang out, punctuated by the grunts of effort and the occasional cheer of encouragement from onlookers. Laenor and Ser Qarl were locked in a fierce sparring match, their movements fluid and precise. 

Laenor's silver locs, pulled back in a simple tie, was streaked with sweat as he swung his sword with practiced grace. Qarl, his lithe frame moving with the agility of a seasoned fighter, met every strike with a counter of his own. Their blades clashed with a rhythmic symphony, a testament to their skill and long-standing friendship.

The yard was alive with activity. Young squires, eager to prove themselves, practiced their own swordplay on the periphery. The clang of practice blades, the shouts of encouragement, and the murmured instructions from their mentors created a cacophony of sounds that filled the open space. Nearby, blacksmiths hammered out repairs on damaged armor, their rhythmic clangs adding to the din.

With a decisive move, Qarl managed to disarm Laenor, sending his sword skittering across the ground. Laenor stumbled back, a wide grin splitting his face as he let out a hearty laugh. Qarl joined in, their shared amusement a rare respite from the pressures of court and battle. The two men clapped each other on the back, their camaraderie evident in their easy banter.

As they were caught in their brief moment of triumph, Rhaenyra approached with purpose. Her regal bearing and determined stride set her apart from the casual crowd, drawing immediate attention. Her presence commanded respect, her sharp gaze scanning the scene before settling on Laenor.

"A word?" she called out, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

Laenor, his smile fading into a more solemn expression, gave a nod and walked towards her. Qarl, recognizing the gravity of the moment, moved to one of the nearby tables cluttered with swords and armor. His fingers lightly traced the hilts of the weapons, a thoughtful look on his face.

Laenor's footsteps were heavy as he approached Rhaenyra. "I take it he's gone," he said, his voice low and resigned.

Rhaenyra's eyes were shadowed with a mix of frustration and determination. "We're finished here. We're leaving."

Laenor's brow furrowed slightly. "What of your offer? Jace and Helaena?"

Rhaenyra's expression hardened. "I have been undermined... and made a spectacle. They whisper about me in the corridors. Well, I leave them to it."

Laenor sighed, a sense of finality in his tone. "To Dragonstone then?"

"We should've left years ago," Rhaenyra's gaze was steely as she nodded.

A moment of silence stretched between them, the only sound the distant clamor of the training yard. Rhaenyra turned to head back toward the Keep, her back straight and her steps steadfast. Laenor trailed after her, glancing back at Qarl, who was still standing by the table, his face a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"What of your position?" Laenor asked, his voice edged with worry. "You've always said if you were absent from court, she would pour her honey in your father's ear."

Rhaenyra's voice held a note of weary wisdom. "The wise sailor flees the storm as it gathers."

Laenor chuckled softly, a rueful sound that echoed his own resignation.

Rhaenyra paused and turned, her gaze falling upon Qarl with a gentleness that was rarely seen. "Laenor... Bring him. We'll need every sword we can muster."