A few days later, a warm morning sun shone brightly over King's Landing, casting its usual sultry glow.
Today, the city was abuzz with activity as people dressed in their finest emerged from their homes. The poor flocked in groups to nondescript church buildings, while the nobles and their families headed straight for the city's few large churches. It was the annual Maiden's Day, a celebration that, though primarily for young virgins, drew countless followers of the Seven Gods in sincere prayer.
The kingdom was still basking in the victory of the Narrow Sea War after defeating the Triarchy. In a gesture of generosity, King Viserys dedicated the day to the Heir Prince's unborn twins by distributing porridge to the people in the streets and alleys. Anyone who did not have enough to eat could receive a portion of the thick gruel with white bread upon presentation of a residence permit issued by the City Watch.
Although the poor did not fully grasp the significance of the residency card, treating it as an ordinary piece of solid wood, the distribution of gruel went off without a hitch. Long lines formed in every street, and the people who received the food expressed their gratitude to the benevolent king and showered blessings on the heir prince's unborn children.
For a time, the reputation of the royal family overshadowed even the importance of the Seven Gods. After all, white porridge was better than brown soup, and white bread was tastier than suspicious meat soup.
The Red Keep
In the morning, crowds of guests from all over the realm streamed into the Red Keep, handing their daughters over to the septas who would lead them to the sanctuary at the rear of Maegor's Holdfast for baptism by the Mother and the Maiden.
The influx of guests made it difficult to find accommodations within the Red Keep. Fortunately, the morning temperature was moderate, preventing any incidents of heatstroke. The hustle and bustle continued until the sun was high and the essential rituals of the festival were completed.
Throne Hall
In the Throne Hall, hundreds of noble lords stood on the cool black stone floor, eagerly leading their sons and nephews around. Their eyes were fixed on the high Iron Throne. Viserys, dressed in solemn black coronation robes and wearing a golden crown, held the house sword, Blackfyre, with its tip resting on the floor.
At the base of the throne, the Sea Snake Corlys, his face grave, acted as the king's spokesman. After a few introductory words, the drums beat intensely, and two Kingsguard led the procession.
Rhaegar entered the hall with a composed demeanor, walking slowly with his hands raised.
"Prince ..."
"Prince ..."
As he walked down the hall's aisles, many familiar noble lords greeted him in whispers, their attitudes ten thousand times more respectful. Rhaegar nodded gently, his emotions well-controlled.
A step behind him, Helaena and Daeron flanked him on either side. Helaena, beautifully dressed with her long silver-gold hair coiled behind her head and wearing a gorgeous white gown, looked especially extravagant for the occasion.
Her headdresses, necklaces, and various trinkets were adorned with symbols from the Targaryen and the seven kingdoms' house emblems.
Despite her stunning appearance, Helaena's face showed discomfort and her violet eyes flashed with anxiety. For a girl with an introverted personality, being thrust into such a grand occasion was intimidating.
"Are you alright?" Rhaegar asked, glancing sideways and noting her mood.
Helaena hesitated for a moment before weakly replying, "I kind of want to go crazy."
Rhaegar paused, black lines forming on his forehead. "Don't worry, it's just a passing phase."
Helaena buried her head in her not-so-rich chest and murmured like a mosquito, "I'm afraid I can't control it, and I want to bring Dreamfyre."
"Never," Rhaegar said, his tone gentle but firm. "There's no need to force yourself. Rhaenyra had already started touring the continent at your age, rejecting many noblemen in the seven kingdoms."
It was hard to imagine the timid girl threatening to unleash a giant dragon in her helpless tone. Unfortunately, her introverted nature made her less calm in stressful situations, unlike Rhaenyra's strong character, who grew up as an only child.
Rhaenyra's forced marriage was infamous throughout the seven kingdoms. She had rejected many suitors, including Lannister's Jason, almost leading to a duel between brothers Tyran and Jason.
She caused the duel between Samwell Blackwood and the former Lord Bracken, causing his death, as he had been stabbed to death by Samwell, and publicly humiliated the former Lord of Blackport, who was in his sixties and had attempted to marry her.
To this day, the nobles of the Stormlands still joked about those incidents. Rhaegar admired such fighting spirit.
Rhaegar gently reassured Helaena before stepping forward to the Iron Throne. He nodded at his father, who was seated above, then moved to stand beside the Sea Snake, his arms folded. Helaena curtsied and stood on the opposite side, holding little Daeron's hand.
With everyone in place, Viserys forced a not-so-sincere smile and declared, "Let's begin!"
At his command, nobles stepped out of line, either alone or accompanied by their nephews, to pay their respects. Most of these suitors were unmarried and of suitable age, but there were also a few widowers hoping to win the princess's favor.
Helaena stood still, pursing her lips, her patience wearing thin as she scrutinized each man. They ranged from middle-aged men in their late thirties to young teens. Some were even older, in their forties and fifties, stepping forward to introduce themselves as widowed and unmarried. The sweltering heat only added to Helaena's discomfort, and she nearly broke out in a cold sweat.
Unconsciously, she let go of little Daeron's hand, her lotus-like arm turning a silver-gray bracelet on her wrist. The bracelet, though ordinary in material, was intricately carved and showed signs of age. It was also slightly tight, a testament to its inappropriate size for her slender wrist. A glance sideways revealed that Rhaegar wore a similar bracelet on his wrist, which was clasped behind his back.
"Bear with it," Helaena admonished herself silently, trying to maintain her composure.
Just then, a middle-aged man with a naive smile and blonde hair stepped forward, greeting them sincerely, "Your Grace, House Rowan sends you their sincere greetings."
On his yellowish robe, he bore the House emblem of "a golden tree on a white background." House Rowan of Goldengrove was one of the most important noble families in the Riverlands, with a lineage tracing back to Garth Greenhand. Their fiefdom encompassed the entire northern Baylands, making them quite powerful.
Viserys looked over, his face lighting up with a smile, "Lord Thaddeus, I'm glad to see you today."
Thaddeus Rowan, a cheerful and generous nobleman, was well-liked and respected in the Riverlands. His wife had passed away a few years ago, leaving him a bachelor. Remembering Alicent's advice, Viserys steeled himself for more conversation with Thaddeus.
At the bottom of the hall, Rhaegar and Corlys stood like statues, watching silently. Corlys glanced twice at Thaddeus, his voice dull, "I bet he'll go bald in less than two years."
"Lord Thaddeus is a good man, loyal to the crown," Rhaegar reasoned, then whispered, "His eldest son would have had a chance if he hadn't married already."
Helaena was only thirteen, and Thaddeus was old enough to be her father, if not older.
Corlys, disdainful, remarked, "If I had known this day would come, I should have facilitated the marriage between Laenor and Princess Helaena."
When the marriage with Rhaenyra had first fallen through, the royal family had strongly opposed another marriage with Velaryon. Now it seemed they might have to fight for it again.
Rhaegar, displeased, taunted, "I won't marry my sister to an old man, nor will I let her be widowed."
Corlys, self-confident, blandly said, "Wait and see what kind of handsome person the queen can pick out from her planned event."
Rhaegar fell silent. He thought Alicent's actions were foolish and driven by a misguided desire for power. Despite their four children already being Dragonriders and their position seemingly unbreakable, she continued to covet more, plotting for her so-called Green Faction.
"Isn't it good to live well and be united as a family?" Rhaegar glanced at the kitten-like Helaena, shaking his head in secret dismay. Alicent's status and role as a mother had saved her, but her ambitions were tearing the family apart.
...
In the Banquet Hall, a similar scene unfolds as female guests converge.
Aegon, dressed in his finery, sits slumped in a spacious seat. His face is disheveled, and he buries his head in depression. Alicent, in another corner of the hall, does not step forward to entertain the guests. Instead, Rhaenyra and Laena are invited to sit on the soft cushions on the left and right sides.
"Princess," a noble girl of the Lords of the Riverlands greets softly, then retreats again with the hem of her skirt.
"May the Maiden and Mother bless you," Rhaenyra says, stroking her stomach and smiling.
After meeting a dozen maidens in a row, it is inevitable that Rhaenyra feels a bit tired. Her beautiful eyes roll as she leans back calmly against the soft cushion, striking a comfortable pose. She had been unwilling to attend, unable to resist her father's repeated requests. It was unknown what kind of persuasion Alicent had used on him.
Laena softly inquires, "Rhaenyra, if you're not feeling well, go back and rest first."
Rhaenyra waves her hand, "It's fine, you can't do it halfway."
After saying that, she turns her head to look at Aegon, "After picking for so long, do you have a favorable match?"
There was a time when it was others who were looking for her. Finally, the tables had turned.
Aegon droops his eyelids and mutters, "I'm grieving, and even the most beautiful beauty can't catch my eye."
There were so many women of the right age who came to meet him that he was actually getting tired of picking them out. Not only did he have his eyes on a few tall girls from the western and northern realms, but he also noticed their mature and plump mothers.
If it wasn't for the wrong occasion, he would have wanted to strike up a conversation or two.
However, when he thinks of his mother's tough attitude towards him, Aegon feels a rebellious surge bubbling up inside him.
"I won't choose any of them, let's see if you have the guts to beat me to death!" Aegon thinks indignantly.
Receiving Alicent's rigid education from a young age has left a great shadow on Aegon's young mind, which aspires for freedom and rebellion. He would rather marry a commoner or a whore than a Hightower. No matter the pressure, he is determined to resist.
...
In the noisy hall, the warbling of ladies mixed with the chatter of gossip.
Waiters served drinks and an abundance of ice.
As the day wore on, male guests began to appear, and the band played cheerful tunes.
Lyonel sat at a table, keeping an eye on the party.
"You really should try this plum cake. Don't be so tense all the time," said Lyman, who held a plate of pastries, tasting them slowly and methodically.
Lyonel held up his glass and smiled bitterly, "The war isn't over yet, and the banquet seems a little too grand."
"Think about it," Lyman shook his head, reminiscing about the past. "It's all for the sake of the royal bloodline."
Lyonel nodded, his heart feeling lighter as he looked around the room.
Otto was at another table, deep in conversation with Ormund Hightower.
His eldest son, Harwin, sat alone in a corner of the banquet, with a wooden board wrapped around his leg to hold it in place.
None of them had traveled to the Throne Hall, instead choosing to oversee the more chaotic banquet hall.
Harwin approached with a pout.
"You should be recuperating," Lyonel said.
"The City Watch is used to staying in the city," Harwin frowned deeply and leaned down. "Recently, Flea Bottom has been quite active. A lot of gold cloaks have resigned from their positions for no apparent reason."
(Word count: 2,040)