Prince's Angel

Fears and Promises

278 A.C

Steffon Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, grinned as he approached the island if Lys. The sea spray showered his hair and face, and the cool winds refreshed it. He felt alive.

Is there any lord who gets the privelege of being so free? He asked himself. Few lords had the time to explore and travel. Lord Tywin Lannister was back in King's Landing, working tirelessly, no doubt. King Aerys sat upon the Iron Throne, unable to leave. Rickard Stark fought and endless war to keep the Wildlings and the Ironmen at bay, and he could possibly point out the numerous problems the other Houses, Great, Major and Minor, were having.

And soon he would be in Lys.

The problem was, Steffon came with a mission: a mission the king himself had sent him on. House Targaryen was dwindling in number, ever since the Tragedy at Summerhall. Only Jahaerys II, the future King Aerys and Queen Rhaella had survived, Rhaella giving birth as the fires burned in Summerhall with her kin inside. Rhaegar Targaryen was born with the tragedy of Summerhall over his head, the burden of it carrying throughout his life. And then, a year before, King Aerys was captured during the Defiance of Duskendale. Lord Denys Darklyn wanted a new charter, similar to Dorne, and many rights. Some say that Lady Serala, his Myrish wife had been behind it all. After Barristan Selmy had set the king free, he had set his wrath upon all, most especially Lady Serala. Steffon shuddered now, at the memories of what the king had become. He had grown paranoid of late, rarely slept and feared poison.

Steffon now had a chance: a desire to put fresh, new blood in the Targaryen line and hope in the Seven Kingdoms. To breathe in life into a world which had become so weary, so chaotic, disheartened and tragic. The problem was, Volantis, Tyrosh, Myr and Pentos had come and gone, and he was now on edge. Should he return to the king empty-handed... Steffon shook his head.

He knew this was a fool's task, and a fool's hope to boot. But Steffon knew this was the best chance the Seven Kingdoms had of renewal more than anything.

The minute they dismounted Steffon looked around. Unlike Volantis' hot, humid and heavy air, which more than often held strong stenches of anything from elephant dung to flowers, Lys was sunny, warm and fresh, with enough breeze to cool them. Cassana breathed in, eyes sparkling as she beheld the beauty of it all.

"So this young lady," she began. "She lives here? In Lys."

Steffon smirked. "My dear, let's not get too ahead of ourselves just yet. We have yet to discern whether or not she is suitable."

"They say that her blood is of the dragonlords," Cassana murmured thoughtfully.

Steffon nodded. "True. Her blood alone would make her a worthy match for Prince Rhaegar. But surely there is more." There had to be.

They were all counting on it.

Seraena's eyes snapped open as she suddenly woke.

What was that dream?

Head shaking, she wasn't sure if there were a history of seers within the Veltaris family, but she learnt that some Valyrians- typically those who had magic in their blood- had 'dragon dreams', prophetic dreams and visions. But it made no sense.

She rose and barefoot, she opened the shutters and looked out the window.

Lys lay on an island, but the Free City, if you could call it that, did not encompass the whole island. Years and years went by, and Seraena proved to be the greatest beauty in the known world, they said. But tall and willowy, Seraena was graceful without trying, and emanated a silvery glow which made people believe she was a goddess. Her silver-gold hair cascaded like a waterfall past her waist, catching the light and reflecting it back infinitely brighter. Her skin was flawless, exquisitely fair like first snowfall and her features, delicate and ethereal.