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The Following 15 Chapters are available for Patrons.
Chapter 13 (Reunion), Chapter 14 (Back to Winterfell), Chapter 15 (A Walk Through Memories), Chapter 16 (A Feast), Chapter 17 (A Memory of The Past), Chapter 18 (A Reunion), Chapter 19 (Leaving The North), Chapter 20 (A Song of Happiness), Chapter 21 (A Song of Sorrow), Chapter 22 (Father and Son), Chapter 23 (The Brave Prince), Chapter 24 (The Mourning Dragons), Chapter 25 (Hightower), Chapter 26 (The Council of 101), and Chapter 27 (Jaehaerys and Alysanne) are already available for Patrons.
Corlys Velayron
As the vast expanse of the sea stretched out before him, Corlys Velayron, the renowned Sea Snake, stood tall and proud on the bow of his magnificent ship, the Sea Dragon. This majestic vessel had been his trusted companion throughout countless adventures and had weathered many storms. As he gazed out at the horizon, Corlys felt a sense of awe and wonder at the sheer power and beauty of the ocean that surrounded him. He knew that the Sea Dragon was the largest ship of House Velayron.
Despite the fact that he was the Lord of the Tides and had commanded some of the most impressive vessels ever to sail the seas, he knew that his strongest ship was still naught but a drop in the ocean compared to the might of the Dragons. It was a fact that he had come to accept, but one that still gave him pause. As if on cue, Corlys heard a distant roar, and he looked up to see Meleys, The Red Queen, flying over his ship. The sailors around him watched in awe as the massive creature soared through the sky, her fiery wings glowing warmly over the deck.
She was a marvel to behold, and she flew from his ship, but not too far away.
Meleys was one of the largest dragons in Westeros, bigger than the ship Corlys and his family were using to sail.
Looking at the ship from afar, one would think Corlys was going to White Harbor with the intention of conquering the place, but he wanted to show something else. To Show Power. He knew the importance of this 'Wedding' in Winterfell; the people with the most amount of power in Westeros would be in this wedding.
King Jaehaerys Targaryen would be there, and Corlys wanted to show the full might of House Velayron, and what better way than to sail with the strongest ship of his fleet.
Its hull was crafted entirely from Ironwood, a rare and sturdy material found mostly in the North, while certain parts of the ship were adorned with pure gold, adding a touch of luxury and opulence to its design. Manning the Sea Snake were fifty of the strongest and most skilled sailors in all of the Seven Kingdoms. They worked tirelessly to keep the ship in top condition, ensuring it remained the fastest vessel on the high seas. But what truly set the Sea Snake apart from all other ships was its towering main mast, which rose to a dizzying height of 25 meters. From this lofty perch, the crew could see for miles in every direction, scanning the horizon for signs of danger. As the Sea Dragon cut through the waves, it left a trail of foam in its wake, a testament to the power and speed of this remarkable vessel.
Corlys wanted to leave the strongest impression he could give, as he knew that despite having the Dragons, House Targaryen still needed political support, trade, manpower, and, most importantly, Gold.
As the waves crashed against the hull, House Velayron's ship glided gracefully towards the bustling port of White Harbor, with the wind carrying them closer to their destination. The journey was not just a mere diplomatic mission, as Corlys, the astute leader of the House, had meticulously planned and selected two thoughtful gifts to present to the future King of Westeros and Princess Gael. Despite the fact that he did not share the warmest of relationships with the Targaryen family, Corlys knew better than to openly display his hostility towards them, for he understood that maintaining diplomacy and cordiality was essential for his House's survival and prosperity.
After his many sails around the known and unknown world, this one was perhaps the most odd one. Corlys had traveled to the Castle of White Harbor before, the place was cold for his Velayron Blood, but the town was good enough; it was a perfect town for trading; the town had been bustling with activity, and it was evident that House Manderly had put its wealth to good use. The streets had been lined with merchants haggling over prices, while the harbor was filled with ships of all shapes and sizes, ready to set sail to far-off lands to bring back exotic goods. It was making House Manderly the richest House in the North.
The lord of House Manderly right now is Theomore Manderly. The man was a good enough lord, someone who knew his place and knew better than to question things.
What angered Corlys were the people he would see in White Harbor, mainly the King. Since the king had denied Rhaenys what rightfully belonged to her by all laws, the King had 'spit' on Rhaenys and their shared blood as if it meant nothing to him. Still, worst of all, he had spit on the memory of his own son. While Corlys hadn't known Prince Aemon that well, he knew the man would have wanted his daughter on the throne rather than Baelon, a man who was still too naive.
Corlys had vowed that one day his blood would be in the Iron Throne; the Velayron blood held power just like the Targaryen blood; Corlys knew in his heart that his children would grow up to be Dragonriders, they would conquer both the skies and the seas, something not even the Targaryens could.
One thing that concerned him somewhat was Daemon's son; he was only four name days, while Corlys wouldn't bother himself with little brats like him, Rhaenys's words about how good friends their daughter was with the boy were what concerned him, and the information that the brat has Cannibal, the most fearsome dragon in Westeros, the dragon apparently followed Aenar around like he was a lost puppy.
' "Two Dragons? Stop spitting out lies, boy, or I will have your tongue," he said, his voice echoing off the room's walls. The servant looked to be shrinking in his place, his body almost trembling like a leaf. Corlys continued, "Caraxes is the only Dragon Prince Daemon has, and his brat is not even one name day."
"I-I'm not lying, m-m'lord," he stuttered, his voice cracking as he spoke. "I swear I was at the ship throughout the entire voyage. The b-black dragon followed us." His eyes darted nervously around the room, unable to meet the piercing gaze of his lord. As the threat loomed before him, his heart raced, and his palms grew slick with sweat. His eyes widened in terror as he struggled to keep his composure. Suddenly, his face drained of all color, leaving him as white as fresh snow. His body quaked with fear as his knees buckled beneath him, causing him to sway unsteadily like a leaf caught in a gust of wind.
As Corlys heard the words "A Black Dragon," his eyes narrowed into a dangerous gaze as he repeated the phrase in his head. With his finger resting on his chin, he pondered about it, trying to recall any information about such a creature. Suddenly, it dawned on him that there could only be one large black dragon out there, and this thought made his body shake with fear and his palm suddenly sweaty with apprehension.
"Leave," Corlys barked at the boy with a tone of authority that reverberated through the room, causing the young lad to jump in surprise. The boy didn't dare to look back as he quickly turned on his heels, his heart pounding in his chest, and scurried towards the door almost in haste, hoping to escape the wrath of Corlys. As he reached the door, he felt a sense of relief wash over him, but before he could pull the door open, Corlys's voice boomed behind him, "You will join in their next voyage too!"
As the lord of the tides slumped back on his chair with a deep sigh, his thoughts raced faster than the waves crashing against the shore. Prince Daemon had just become even more dangerous than before. Unlike his big pet brother, Daemon was as unpredictable as they could get, Corlys disliked unpredictable things, and now Daemon's brat was perhaps in possession of Cannibal. A Dragon that, in Corlys's mind, should not even exist.
Corlys swallowed deeply at the memory of the beast; he had seen the thing before, while Cannibal loved to spend time in his cave; Corlys had been there to see him come out.
He had been sailing near Dragonstone, and a young dragon had been flying carelessly around the island; Corlys had been watching only for Cannibal to suddenly show up and bathe the young dragon in green flames; The young dragon, writhing in agony, let out a deafening scream that echoed throughout the valley. Cannibal, the notorious dragon who had a reputation for playing with his prey before he devoured them, seemed to take pleasure in the young dragon's suffering. But as the screams continued, even he grew bored of the game, and with one swift bite, he severed the young dragon's neck from its body. At that moment, the sky was filled with a shower of blood and the sickening sound of Cannibal feasting on the remains of yet another dragon. Even now, as Corlys recalled the memory, he couldn't shake the feeling of horror and disgust that had overwhelmed him at that moment.
"So you heard of it," she said, a note of curiosity in her voice as she approached him. Corlys couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed - he had been so deep in thought that he hadn't even noticed her walking through the door. But now that she was here, he was glad for the distraction.
Corlys didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward from the chair, his elbows resting on his knees.
"He's only a brat, not even one name day. Have you ever heard of a baby claiming a Dragon?" His voice was laced with curiosity and disbelief as he waited for Rhaenys' response. She shook her head in response, her steps taking her towards a nearby table where a vase full of vine lay. The vase was painted; the colors of the paint swirled together in a mesmerizing pattern that resembled the tumultuous waves of a stormy sea. Amidst the chaos of the design, a ship sailed fearlessly, its mast cutting through the waves as it braved the tempestuous waters. The attention to detail was impeccable, from the intricate brushstrokes that gave the waves their lifelike texture to the delicate lines that traced the ship's outline.
Without hesitation, she reached out with a delicate hand and deftly grasped the smooth handle, gently pouring herself a generous goblet of wine. As the ruby liquid flowed into the glass, she turned to Corlys with a knowing smile.
"I can't say I have heard of a young Prince claiming a Dragon," she mused, "but who's to say it's not possible? After all, he may be small now, but he will eventually grow into a force to be reckoned with. His father is Daemon. He will be a good warrior. He will be a good dragon rider. But he's a problem only if you forgot about my uncle's proposal." Rhaenys reminded Corlys as she leaned against the wall, looking at her husband, who seemed too deep in thought.
Corlys groaned but couldn't help but agree that the alliance was a profitable one; the only problem was that Daemon's brat wasn't in line for the iron throne but instead was Viserys's future boy; while not born yet, Corlys knew that both Viserys and Aemma were still young and could eventually have a son.
"Are you saying that Prince Aenar could be a potential ally in the future?" Corlys questioned, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of skepticism. He stood up from his chair, his long legs unfolding gracefully as he slowly approached Rhaenys. The Princess took another sip of wine, savoring the rich flavor as she considered her husband's question.
"He might, right now, would be foolish of us to close all the doors. Our children are still growing and have yet to claim their own dragons. Prince Aenar is supposed to marry our daughter, and if his dragon is eventually Cannibal, then I see nothing wrong with it."
Corlys's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the thunderous roar of a massive wave crashing against the ship's side, causing it to sway violently from side to side. Despite the moment's chaos, Corlys remained steadfast and composed, his feet planted firmly on the deck as he effortlessly maintained his balance. As a seasoned sailor who had spent his entire life traversing the treacherous waters of the open ocean, Corlys knew that maintaining one's balance in even the most intense storms was a crucial skill that could mean the difference between life and death.
As the ship cut through the choppy waters, the cool wind blew against his face, sending shivers down his spine. He stood at the helm, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon, lost in thought. His hands absentmindedly ran through his hair, the frustration evident in his furrowed brow. The closer they sailed to White Harbor, the more he could feel the icy grip of the North tightening around him, seeping into his bones.
As they sailed, he noticed something unusual happening above them - snowflakes were falling from the sky! Despite the cold, he couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the beautiful sight of the small, delicate flakes landing on the ship. The white blanket of snow was gradually covering the vessel.
Corlys knew it would only get colder when they would eventually reach Winterfell. He never liked the cold, but he ignored it for now as he walked towards his chambers where his family resided; as he entered the room, the familiar scent of home washed over him, and a contented smile stretched across his lips. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on the sight that brought him joy - his little daughter twirling around in her most beautiful dress, a vision of pure innocence and happiness. The vibrant colors of her dress complemented the rosy hue of her cheeks. The moment Corlys entered, as soon as she noticed her father's arrival, her eyes lit up with excitement, and she twirled around in her brand-new dress, the fabric flowing around her like a soft cloud. Her smile was as bright as the stars in the sky.
"Father, how long until we reach White Harbor? Has the king's party arrived at the castle?" Laena questioned, bouncing up and down; Corlys chuckled at his little daughter; Rhaenys shook her head with a sigh, her thoughts already turned to the upcoming visit. She knew too well that Laena's impulsiveness could get them into trouble if left unchecked. So she took a deep breath before reminding her daughter yet again of the importance of behaving like a proper lady when they arrived at their destination.
"Remember, my dear," she said firmly, "when we get there, you must act with grace and decorum, not like the wildlings beyond the wall."
Corlys walked up to Laena, his little daughter, who was standing beside her brother Lanor; he couldn't help but notice how Lanor seemed busy admiring his new clothes, not paying attention to anything happening around him yet. "Maybe, but might I know why you're so excited to see the King's Party?" Corlys asked his daughter with a teasing tone, crouching in front of her; Laena looked away, a little shy as she tried to come up with a reason that didn't include a certain Prince.
"She wants to spend time with Aenar because She loves him." "Laenor!" Laena shouted, bewildered, at her little brother, who had a smug smile on his face; soon, she started chasing Laenor around the room, the little boy was quite good At dodging many of her attacks as they jumped from furniture to furniture and it would have lasted longer if it wasn't for Laenor almost dropping the vase.
Rhaenys was trying to keep up with her daughter's energy as she was chasing Laenor, her stupid brother who had stuck out his tongue at her.
"Laena, Enough," Rhaenys finally called out to her daughter, putting a firm grip on her little arm, causing her to stop in her tracks. The little girl's eyes were still fixed on Laenor, who was now giggling at her from a distance.
"She loves Aenar. She loves Aenar. She loves Aenar. She loves Aenar." His sister, who was standing in front of him with her arms crossed, pouted loudly as her annoyance grew with each repetition. The way she was glaring at her annoying little brother made it seem like she wanted to throttle him. Despite her frustration, Laenor continued to taunt her, relishing in his sister's discomfort and secretly enjoying the power he held over her with his teasing.
Corlys halted Laenor's teasing with a firm command, "Enough, Laenor." The little boy's pout was evident, indicating his displeasure at being prevented from continuing his playful torment of his sister. In contrast, the sister's expression conveyed a deep-seated fury that hinted at a desire to unleash her wrath upon Laenor. Corlys observed the scene with a mixture of amusement and concern, wondering if his children's sibling rivalry would ever subside. Despite the tension in the air, he couldn't help but feel proud of his daughter's fierce spirit and his son's mischievous wit, traits that he hoped they would carry with them into adulthood.
"Laena, there's nothing wrong with liking, Aennar. I mean, he's a Prince, and-" "Muna." Laena pouted at her mother with a red face. She stormed away from her parents, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable. As she walked away, she could hear her little brother's annoying laughter echoing behind her, adding fuel to the fire.
"He's my friend." She claimed with as much conviction as she could for a little girl, but it seemed her parents weren't convinced, and her annoying little brother was smiling smugly as if he had just won something.
"Friends aside. When we reach White Harbor, I want all of you in your best, No chasing each other around. You show respect to the members of House Targaryen. You refer to them as your grace, especially the king and queen. Never look them in the eyes, talk only if they ask you something, and don't ask them questions without their permission first." Corlys spoke, his voice turning from playful to serious in a second, looking at both of his children to see if they understood it; both nodded without saying anything.
"When you see Prince Aenar, you address him as 'Prince Aenar,' or 'your grace,'" Corlys reminded his daughter, who nodded yet again, but Corlys had a feeling she was just nodding without meaning any of it. Corlys turned towards his son, who was listening to them intently.
Corlys knelt down to meet his son's gaze, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "And Lanor," he began, his voice firm yet gentle, "you are of noble blood, born to a lineage of great warriors and honorable lords. You carry the legacy of House Velayron, a name that has been feared and respected for generations." Lanor's eyes widened in awe as his father spoke, his small chest puffing out with newfound pride.
"You must stand tall and proud, my son," Corlys continued, "for you are destined for greatness. Do not let anyone look down on you or make you feel inferior, for you are a Velayron - fierce, brave, and unyielding." The young heir nodded, his expression determined.
Corlys smiled, ruffling his son's hair affectionately. "That's my boy," he said, standing up and placing a hand on Lanor's back. "Remember, always hold your head high and never forget who you are - a Velayron through and through."
Aenar Targaryen
Rhaenyra sat at the long wooden table in the Wheelhouse, savoring the savory taste of roasted chicken in her mouth. As she chewed, her eyes wandered to the expansive windows, gazing out at the snow-covered landscape beyond. Suddenly, an idea struck her, and she turned to her companion, Lyanna, who was seated across from her. "Lyanna," Rhaenyra asked, her voice muffled by a mouthful of food, "can we see the Wall from Winterfell?" Lyanna laughed heartily at the question, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
"Rhaenyra, show some manners at the table, my dear Princess," Aemma gently scolded her daughter, who sat with an annoyed expression on her face, unable to understand why she had to behave in a certain way just because of her royal title. As she continued to chew her food with audible smacks, Aemma's eyes darted towards Aenar, who sat next to her, displaying impeccable table manners as if he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
"Look at Aenar. He never talks with food in his mouth." His smile was almost smug, and Rhaenyra could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as she realized that she was being compared to Aenar, who, in her mother's eyes, was the epitome of perfection. Despite her annoyance, she couldn't help but feel a little jealous of Aenar's effortless grace and poise, which seemed to come so naturally to him.
As the morning sun shone through the windows of the Wheelhouse, a mouth-watering aroma wafted from the table where Aemma, Lyanna, Rhaenyra, and Aenar were seated, breaking their fast. Aemma savored every bite of the scrumptious breakfast spread before her. She indulged in a piece of freshly-baked bread slathered with creamy cheese, accompanied by a juicy boiled sausage bursting with flavor. As she reached for the honey pot, her eyes fell upon a small dish filled with a fiery red powder, and her adventurous spirit prompted her to sprinkle a pinch of it onto her plate. The combination of sweet honey and spicy powder tantalized her taste buds. But it didn't take long for Rhaenyra to start asking questions.
"Don't worry, Aemma. Rhaenyra is just curious. There's nothing wrong with it." Lyanna said sweetly towards Rhaenyra, who brightened up; Aemma rolled her eyes while Aenar chuckled silently but kept up his impeccable table manners.
"I have nothing against asking questions, but Rhaenyra should know not to speak when she's eating," Aemma spoke strictly, looking at her daughter, who pouted.
"To answer your question, no, you can't see the Wall. But you can climb the old tower, the tallest tower of Winterfell." Lyanna answered with a smile towards the little girl. Rhaenyra suddenly had a face as if she had a new idea, a dangerous idea. Aenar couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him - he knew all too well that Rhaenyra's new idea was bound to be reckless and dangerous, and he braced himself for whatever harebrained scheme she was about to propose.
Later
Soon the wheelhouses reached the White Harbor; this time, Aenar was riding a pony beside his father. The salty sea air filled their lungs as they made their way through the crowded streets. Lyanna tried to convince her son that he was still young and didn't need to ride a pony yet, but Aenar said...
"I'm a Prince of the Realm and a son of the North," Aenar replied with a determined look. "This will be their first impression of me, and I want to give the best impression. They should think of me as a warrior rather than a boy who still pees in the bed."
She knew that Aenar was a brave and determined child, just like his father. She smiled at her son, knowing he had inherited his father's bravery and determination. "Alright," Lyanna said, "you can ride the pony, but only if you promise to be careful and not to show off. Remember, you are still young, and there will be time for you to prove yourself as a warrior when you are older."
After saying that, his father looked at Aenar with pride before lifting him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. His mother, on the other hand, had commented that he was too smart for his own good.
"He's a Dragon and A Wolf like his parents, Lyanna." Daemon had commented proudly.
The wind was blowing through Aenar's hair as he rode beside his father, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration. Now, riding alongside his father, Aenar felt much better now that he could ride a horse; well, it was a pony for now, but he would get used to it.
As the wheelhouses made their way down the winding path toward the grand gates of The Manderly Castle. The clatter of hooves and the jostling of the carriages echoed off the walls of the ancient fortress, signaling the arrival of important guests. High above, the guards stationed atop the towers kept a watchful eye on the approaching convoy, their hands resting on the hilt of their swords. As the wheelhouses drew nearer, the gates began to creak open slowly, revealing a glimpse of the splendor that lay beyond.
As the mighty gates slowly opened, Prince Aenar watched as the snowflakes fell gently from the gates, blanketing the ground and creating a peaceful atmosphere. A large crowd of commoners, servants, and soldiers had gathered eagerly to welcome the Royal Family with open arms. The anticipation was palpable as they waited patiently for the arrival of the monarchy, each person hoping to catch a glimpse of the king, queen, and their heirs.
"Keep your chest and head high, my son. Show them that you're the one in charge. You're a Dragon, always remember that." Daemon's voice broke Aenar out of his thoughts; the young prince turned at his father before nodding.
"Yes, Father." He spoke firmly; his father seemed pleased with his answer before ruffling the top of his hair, much to Aenar's annoyance, who tried to shake his hand away.
As the wheelhouses of House Targaryen approached the grand open gate of the imposing castle, the air was thick with anticipation and excitement. Suddenly, the sounds of what sounded like a deafening roar echoed through the air, making the hairs on the back of everyone's necks stand on end.
The commoners who had gathered around the castle grounds pointed their trembling fingers toward the sky in unison, their eyes widening in awe and fear as they saw five majestic dragons descending upon the castle. The dragons, their scales glinting in the bright sunlight, were a sight to behold - their immense size and power were enough to cause even the bravest of men to tremble in their boots.
As the magnificent dragons descended from the sky, their massive wings flapped with a thunderous roar, casting a shadow over the castle and its surrounding lands. Many onlookers gazed in awe at the majestic creatures, marveling at their size and power. However, not everyone was captivated by the dragons' beauty, as quite a lot of people were frightened by their sheer enormity and the thought of their fiery breath. They were big enough to look like flying castles. The only one not afraid of them was House Targaryen.
Aenar smiled as Cannibal landed beside Vhagar, but he was keeping his head lower than Vhagar since he was the largest dragon out of all of them; Aenar noticed a spark in Cannibal's eyes, a flicker of ambition and challenge. It was as if Cannibal was sizing up Vhagar, contemplating the idea of challenging the dragon and showing his own dominance. For now, though, he kept his head low, biding his time and waiting for the right moment to make his move.
As the wheelhouses creaked to a halt, the grandeur of the Courtyard of the Castle of House Manderly spread before them. The soldiers in their shining armor, with swords at their hips, walked with a sense of purpose towards the Royal Wheelhouse. With practiced ease, they opened the door with a courteous bow, revealing the regal occupants within. As Queen Alysanne Targaryen and King Jaehaerys Targaryen stepped out, the air around them seemed to shimmer with an aura of grace and majesty. The Queen's gown flowed like a river of silver, and her hair glinted like the first rays of dawn. Her husband, the King, looked strong and with piercing purple eyes.
The crowd gathered to watch them cheered in joy; the dragons who were outside of the wall, mainly Vermithor and Silverwing, roared.
Jaehaerys and his beloved Queen Alysanne strolled along the path, the winter's snow crunching beneath their feet; they appeared to be the very embodiment of royalty; even with their advanced age, their grace and power were undeniable. Their presence commanded respect and admiration, and they were closely attended by three of the most formidable Kingsguards in the realm. One was Ryam Redwyne, who was watching everything around him.
As the magnificent pair emerged from their royal carriage, a wave of reverence swept over the crowd, causing every lord, lady, servant, and soldier to drop to one knee in a show of respect and loyalty. For a moment, the only sound was the soft rustle of the king's robes as he stopped in front of Lord Manderly. The lord looked up, his eyes meeting the king's, and a sense of tension filled the air. Finally, King Jaehaerys cleared his throat, breaking the silence. With a regal gesture, he motioned for Lord Manderly to stand up.
"Everyone stand up," he bellowed, his voice booming across the space, the sound carrying to the farthest corner. The audience stirred, hesitant at first, but as the king's eyes swept across the throngs of people, they rose to their feet as one, the sound of their collective movement a thunderous roar in the stillness of the day.
Prince Aenar watched as his great Grandfather spoke to every member of House Manderly; he was a little surprised to see that Lord Manderly had five children, each much different from one other.
Prince Baelon introduced himself to House Manderly; soon, they were all led inside; Lord Manderly looked pretty relieved when Prince Baelon told him that the dragons were fed and they didn't need to be fed again for two weeks.
Aenar couldn't really blame the man since they were talking about feeding five full-grown dragons, and tomorrow the sixth one would arrive. Aenar doubted there had been so many free dragons in the same place in a long time. After reaching his bedchamber, Aenar took a bath; his parents told him he needed to look good for the feast. Aenar understood the importance of showing yourself in front of so many people that have never seen you before.
Now, he was at the feast with his family; Prince Baelon informed them that the ship of House Velayron would arrive tomorrow; Aenar was quite looking forward to talking with Laena again. Lord Manderly had talked a bit with Lady Lyanna before introducing himself to Aenar.
The young Prince had spoken with enough courtesy to impress the lord of White Harbor.
'A Northern Prince, through and through.'
The smell of freshly cooked soup filled the air, bringing a sense of warmth and comfort to the otherwise cold and rigid space of the castle's main room.
"Aenar, why did you sleep last night in the Royal Wheelhouse?" Rhaenyra questioned as she sipped the soup they had prepared for her.
"I brought Queen Alysanne the food, we started talking, and I fell asleep there," Aenar explained with a shrug before taking a bite out of the seafood in front of him. Since they were in White Harbor, the majority of the food was seafood: fish, crabs, and other sea creatures.
"Aenar, do you think tomorrow we can play together in the snow?" Rhaenyra asked with a twinkle of excitement in her eyes and her voice laced with anticipation.
Daemon chuckled as he took a bite out of a freshly baked piece of bread, savoring its warmth and flavor as he watched his niece and son exchange playful banter. It warmed his heart to see them bond so effortlessly, their laughter echoing through the halls of the castle and their joy spreading infectious cheer to all those around them. As he gazed upon their carefree spirits, he couldn't help but feel grateful for all the blessings life had bestowed upon him, including the gift of family and the joy of witnessing their happiness.
As Aenar gladly accepted Nyra's proposition, Daemon looked at his wife, that was sitting beside him; he wondered if tonight, after their activities, they could talk about Aenar's future.
He could become the best King, Daemon thought, feeling pride for someone else, and he did naught as the thought of Aenar sitting on the Iron Throne grew in his mind like a tree.
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