A Battle of Blood.

54

139 AC

K I N G ' S L A N D I N G

The evening was lively with the warmth of the candles and the chatter that filled the dining hall. The Queen Dowager Alicent hosted the dinner in honor of Ser Corwin Baratheon, the younger brother of Lady Lyanna. Lyanna sat between her husband, Prince Aemond, and her brother, Ser Corwin. Across the table from them was the crippled King Aegon, seated in his wooden wheelchair, unable to walk or engage in the battles he once relished.

Alicent was poised at the opposite end of the table, all the children of Aemond and Lyanna surrounding her—except for little Alysanne, who sat at her father's side. Even Princess Jaehaera attended, though she remained silent, her grief for her late mother still evident in her eyes.

The dinner commenced with a prayer led by Queen Alicent, clasping her hands on the table and praising the Seven for their grace and bounty. As they all bowed their heads, Lyanna noticed Maekar across the table, reluctant to clasp his hands in prayer. She gave him a stern look, which made him hastily join in, fearing his mother's wrath. The room was quiet, save for Alicent's solemn voice offering thanks for Ser Corwin's arrival and the abundance of food. As soon as the prayer ended, the atmosphere lightened with the playing of soft music, and the feast began.

Lyanna and Corwin shared smiles and laughs, reminiscing about their childhood in Storm's End, while Aemond busied himself speaking with Alysanne, who couldn't care less about the grandiosity of the feast. At the far end of the table, Maekar and young Aemond. played with their food, much to their grandmother's dismay. Alicent scolded them gently, while Laena and Aerion conversed about history, their shared interest lighting up the young boy's face. The room was filled with conversation and laughter, though Princess Jaehaera remained quiet, barely touching her food, as did the King, who forced a smile every now and then but looked far from engaged.

At some point during the meal, Queen Alicent turned to Ser Corwin, her voice pleasant as she asked, "Ser Corwin, I trust you have found your stay at the Red Keep comfortable? I do hope everything has been to your satisfaction."

Ser Corwin nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "I have been most well received, Your Grace. The hospitality has been beyond generous, especially the company of my dear sister." He glanced fondly at Lyanna, who gently held his hand. Aemond, seated beside her, shifted in his chair at the sight, his gaze hardening just slightly.

The King, despite his detachment, made an effort to join the conversation, asking, "And how fares life at Oldtown, Ser Corwin? Squiring for my cousin Lord Ormund, I've heard much of his court."

Corwin, eager to answer, said, "It has been an honor, Your Grace. I have learned a great deal in Oldtown. The knights there are as formidable as any, and the wisdom of the Hightower has been invaluable."

"Good, good," the King murmured, a faint smile crossing his face. "Soon enough, you'll be lord of Storm's End, no? Have you thought of taking a wife yet? I could find you a noble suitor here at court. Many fine ladies, beautiful faces."

Corwin chuckled politely. "Not yet, Your Grace. I am still young and intend to devote my time to swordsmanship and learning. There will be time enough for marriage in the years to come, though I am honored by your consideration."

The King nodded in approval, though a flicker of envy crossed his features, knowing he would never again ride to battle or enjoy the vigor of youth.

King Aegon gave a solemn nod, his eyes briefly clouded by envy as he looked at the young man's vitality. "A wise choice. You have time yet," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his wooden chair.

But just as the conversation lulled, Ser Corwin cleared his throat, his tone shifting to one of gravity. "There is, however, another matter I must bring forth, one that comes directly from my father, Lord Steffon."

The room quieted, and all eyes turned toward him. Lyanna, sipping her wine, suddenly froze, a sense of dread creeping over her. She saw Aemond's cold gaze narrow slightly, anticipating the news.

"Lord Steffon has requested that Aerion, the youngest son of Prince Aemond and Lady Lyanna, return to Storm's End to be raised there, as is our family's custom for the younger sons," Corwin said, his voice apologetic as if he already anticipated the reaction.

Lyanna choked on her wine, her eyes wide with shock. She looked down the table at Aerion, who sat there, his innocent face confused at hearing his name. The Queen's eyes widened in surprise, as did the King's, but neither spoke at first. The room was silent, save for the faint clatter of silverware.

"No," Lyanna whispered, her voice strained. She set her cup down, her hands trembling as she looked at Corwin in disbelief. "He is my son. I will not allow him to be taken away."

Corwin looked pained but resolute. "Sister, I understand your feelings, but it is our father's wish. It is tradition. Aerion will be raised at Storm's End, to learn the ways of our house."

Aemond, ever cold and calculating, placed a hand on Lyanna's trembling one. His voice was firm, "It is the way of things, Lyanna. Aerion has turned seven. He must begin his training, as all noble sons do."

"No!" Lyanna's voice was louder now, filled with a mother's desperation. She rose abruptly from her seat, her chair scraping against the floor. "I will not let him go! I have lost enough already. I will not lose another child!"

All eyes were on her, the once lively feast now frozen in shock. Without waiting for a response, Lyanna turned and left the hall, her skirts billowing behind her. Aemond stood slowly, his chair creaking as he rose. He followed her out of the hall, leaving the king, queen and her children in stunned silence.

In her chamber, Lyanna paced back and forth, her mind racing, her heart pounding. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, her body trembling with a mixture of anger and grief. She knelt on the floor, burying her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the sense of loss that seemed to follow her like a shadow.

She rubbed her belly, a small comfort in the midst of her sorrow. The life growing inside her was a secret she had not yet shared with Aemond, but now, the thought of losing another child was too much to bear.

Aemond entered the chamber, his face unreadable as always. He knelt beside her, lifting her face gently to meet his cold gaze. Her swollen eyes, red from crying, made her look more fragile, but in that fragility, Aemond saw something ethereal.

"I will not let Aerion go," Lyanna whispered, her voice breaking.

Aemond's voice was as cold as winter, "He must go. It is his duty."

Tears streamed down her face. "He is just a boy... my boy."

Aemond tightened his grip on her hands, his coldness softening slightly. "Our boy needs to learn how to be a lord."

"He's too pure... too kind for that life," she sobbed.

"There is danger everywhere," Aemond replied. "But it is the way of the world."

Lyanna collapsed into his arms, her sobs quieting as he held her, stroking her raven hair. Despite his cold exterior, Aemond's embrace was firm, and for a moment, in the stillness of the room, Lyanna felt a fleeting sense of peace, knowing that no matter what, her husband's love, as cold and distant as it could be, was still unwavering.

To be continued...