Crowned Stag (rhaenyra targaryen x male oc)

The Lady of Storm's End

Mason and Cassandra stood by one another, making their way over to the gates. The banners of House Targaryen quickly came into view to which a small smile curled onto Mace's lips. Black horses dressed in rich Targaryen colors came trotting in—royal guards following after them.

Ser Roland straightened up and cleared his throat, "It is of the highest pleasure to welcome back to Storm's End: Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne. With her, her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon and their two sons—Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon."

That hit a nerve for Mason. It always did. Cassandra looked up at her father, observing the way he played with his fingers. She reached up to grab her father's hand, interlocking her small fingers with his large ones.

He glanced down at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. She didn't know the full truth, not yet, but she did her best to calm his nerves.

Mason squeezed her hand gently, offering a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Stay close, Cass," he whispered, his voice soft but steady.

***

Elenda stood in the doorway of Boremund's chambers, whilst her girls greeted their grandfather.

"Do you like the dress I made, grandfather?" Floris asked politely, holding up the yellow dress made out of old fabric. "Father let me use the curtains in the old library for it."

Boremund took a deep breath, and with all his energy, said, "It's fine work, Floris. Truly." His voice was weak but kind,"You've inherited your mother's talent."

Floris beamed, twirling once to show off the full length of her creation. Maris smiled at her sister, though Ellyn seemed more interested in the tapestries on the wall than her sister's dress.

Elenda noticed how much effort it took for him to speak, his illness highly noticable in the way his hands trembled slightly as he tried to sit up straighter.

"Come now, girls," Elenda said softly, stepping forward. "Let your grandsire rest."

Floris hesitated but eventually nodded, offering one last bright smile before following Maris out of the room. Ellyn planted a kiss on old Boremund's cheek before leaving. As the door closed behind them, Elenda approached the bed, her expression shifting from motherly warmth to a quiet concern.

Boremund's eyes followed his granddaughters until they were out of sight. Then, with a tired sigh, he turned to Elenda. "Mason," he rasped, his voice more fragile than before. "Is he...?"

"With Cassandra, greeting the Targaryens at the gates," Elenda replied, sitting at his bedside. "They should be here soon."

Boremund nodded weakly, but his brow furrowed. There was a long pause, as if he was picking his next words carefully. "I don't know how long he can keep pretending."

Elenda's face tightened. "He does it for our daughters, for our family. But I know... it weighs on him."

Boremund's weak hand reached out, grasping hers with surprising strength. "He must choose, Elenda. Before it destroys him. Before it destroys all of you."

"He chose a long time ago," She said, her voice cracking. "And now the evidence is there for all to see. They bear his face, hair, and eyes. All but his name."

Boremund's gaze softened as he heard Elenda's voice break. "Aye," he murmured, barely a whisper.

Elenda's jaw tightened.

Boremund let out a deep breath—Elenda turned to him, expecting him to say something but he simply looked away.

She took that as a sign to leave. The old lord didn't want to talk anymore it seemed.