Joanna Lannister was many things, but a fool she was not.
From her earliest days, she was keenly aware of her beauty, a gift that turned many heads. She also knew well the privilege of her birth, for she hailed from one of the great noble houses of Westeros. Though her father, Jason Lannister, was but the second son of the Lord of Casterly Rock, she wanted for nothing in wealth and position. Yet, she was but one among many children, and her father's attentions were spread thin. Joanna, however, yearned to be his favored. She needed the right alliances and backing to rise above her station. Possessing a maturity beyond her years, she understood this well. She employed her wits and the knowledge she had garnered to outshine her siblings. She comported herself as a proper lady and wielded her beauty like a weapon when it served her purpose.
Now, she found herself in King's Landing, a lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaella, the future queen. But she was not blind to the glances Prince Aerys had cast her way during the royal family's visits to Casterly Rock. Aerys had wanted her. She had braced herself for his advances upon her arrival at court. Yet, to her astonishment, Aerys refrained. His glances were no longer filled with desire or lust; they were tinged with regret and pity.
It seemed he had forsaken his pursuit of her entirely. The reason for this eluded her, but she was grateful nonetheless. She had no desire for Aerys or to be his paramour; her heart inclined toward her cousin, Tywin.
Still, she pondered what had caused the persistent prince to abandon his chase. Living in the Red Keep as Rhaella's lady-in-waiting afforded her ample opportunity to observe the royal family closely.
Her answer lay with the newborn princes, the twins. Specifically, it was the Fireborne Prince, Rhaemon Targaryen.
She had witnessed it all.
The Prince's entrance into a dragon-like slumber, the King's bestowal of the remaining dragon eggs upon the infant, and the miraculous moment when the Prince erupted into flames, fire enveloping his cradle and the eggs, bringing dragons back into the world.
She was stunned and awed, as any would be.
It was beyond belief, yet she had heard of the miracle that spared the Prince from the flames of Summerhall unscathed. Since that day, the royal family's focus had never wavered from the babe. This included Aerys. So much so that she surmised he had forsaken his pursuit of her because of it. Somehow, all of Aerys's attention was now devoted to his wife and sons. Joanna knew well that the royal siblings had wed against their wills. Now, it seemed that reluctance had vanished, all due to Prince Rhaemon and his singular existence.
Joanna Lannister walked with measured grace behind Princess Rhaella, flanked by the other ladies-in-waiting, as they made their way through the bustling corridors of the Red Keep. The air was thick with anticipation and the clamor of preparations for the Great Tourney, now mere days away. Princess Rhaella issued commands with a serene authority, ensuring every detail was attended to for the grand event.
King's Landing had never been so alive with activity. The streets and halls teemed with a motley throng of wandering knights, sellswords, squires, wards, pages, merchants, tourists, and—she could go on for ages. It was the busiest Joanna had ever seen the capital, the city strained to its limits by the influx of visitors. High lords and ladies had already begun to arrive, with many more expected in the coming days.
Despite the chaos, Joanna understood the draw that had brought them all here. Whispers of dragons reborn under Targaryen rule and the enigmatic figure of the Fireborne Prince had spread like wildfire across Westeros. The mere notion of living dragons was enough to ignite the imaginations of nobles and common folk alike. Dragons had long been relegated to the realm of myth and legend, their extinction in the mists of time leaving only stories and faded memories. To hear that they had returned was beyond belief.
And then there was the matter of the Fireborne Prince, Rhaemon Targaryen. The tales of his miraculous immunity to fire had sent shockwaves through the realm. Not since the days of Aegon the Conqueror had there been such a claim, and even then, it was shrouded in doubt and speculation. Joanna herself could scarcely believe it, though she had witnessed the Prince's extraordinary nature with her own eyes. It was no surprise that so many had come to see for themselves, to discern the truth of these wondrous claims.
As she followed in the Princess's wake, Joanna's mind churned with thoughts of the days to come. The Great Tourney would be a spectacle unmatched, a gathering of the realm's finest and most powerful. But beneath the pageantry and knightly valor, there would be scrutiny and whispers, eyes watching for any sign of weakness or deceit. The Targaryens' hold on power was as fragile as it was formidable, and the return of dragons, along with the Fireborne Prince, would either solidify their dominion or invite new challenges.
In the midst of it all, Joanna knew her place. She was a Lannister and her role was to serve and observe. Yet, the intrigue of this momentous time stirred something deeper within her. The return of dragons, the emergence of a prince immune to flames—it was a story worthy of the songs of old, and she, somehow, was a part of it.
For a moment, her hidden ambitions reared its head, and suddenly, she was determined to make her future children be a part of it as well. But it was too soon to even think about it.
As they neared the end of their circuit around the Red Keep, Joanna cast a glance over the bustling courtyard below. The throngs of people moved like a river of humanity, each one drawn by the promise of witnessing history. She could not blame them. She too was captivated by the unfolding saga, by the promise of dragons and the destiny of a prince. The days ahead would shape the future of the realm, and she, like so many others, would be there to see it.
~~~
The first day of the tourney dawned bright and clear, the air alive with the vibrant hum of anticipation. Songs spilled from the lips of entertainers, filling the grounds with melodies that danced in the summer breeze. Guards stood vigilant at every corner, their eyes sharp for any hint of trouble. Ladies of the court scouted the grounds, searching for their champions among the throngs of knights and men-at-arms who eagerly entered their names for the competitions. Amidst the revelry, the petty crimes of thievery by beggars and common folk surged, a constant undercurrent to the grand festivities.
As the time for the main event approached, the jousting competition, the crowd's excitement reached a fever pitch. The stands filled to capacity, a sea of faces turned towards the arena, waiting with bated breath for the arrival of the royal family. When at last they appeared, settling into their high seats in the center of the arena, a collective murmur of awe swept through the assemblage. Rumors and whispers had spread like wildfire across the Seven Kingdoms, but now the people saw the truth with their own eyes.
There, carried with regal grace, was their proof. King Jaehaerys carried a dragon. It was a small thing that had jet black scales and blue highlights. The sight of the mythical creature, long thought extinct, left the crowd in stunned silence. Yet, the twin babes (and the other two rumored dragons) were notably absent, perhaps kept away from the noise and clamor for the sake of their infant sensibilities—a detail most found understandable.
King Jaehaerys rose, his presence commanding instant attention. His voice carried across the arena, clear and authoritative as he started his opening speech and announced the promotion of Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, to the esteemed position of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. The crowd responded with a roar of approval, the White Bull's reputation well known and respected throughout the realm.
But the king was not finished. He spoke of a need for new blood among the Kingsguard, a call for worthy knights to step forward and prove their mettle. This announcement sent a ripple of thrill and excitement through the assembled participants, each one eager for the chance to join the ranks of the realm's most elite protectors.
The tourney grounds buzzed with renewed energy, the promise of glory and honor hanging thick in the air. Knights and squires alike whispered of the possibilities, their eyes alight with ambition. For the common folk, the spectacle and pageantry provided a welcome distraction from the harshness of daily life, a chance to witness feats of valor and skill.
As the jousting began, lances splintering and horses thundering down the lists, all eyes remained fixed on the arena. The sun hung high in the sky, casting its golden warmth upon the tourney grounds. On the raised platform, amidst the grandeur of the noble seats, King Jaehaerys sat with regal bearing, flanked by his queen and their kin. Behind him, standing tall in their gleaming armor, were Ser Gerold Hightower, and the young but already storied Ser Barristan Selmy, the Bold.
Ser Barristan, in his twenties but possessing the demeanor of a seasoned warrior, leaned slightly towards Ser Gerold. "The field is strong this year, Ser Gerold. Many skilled knights have come to prove themselves. Do you see any amongst them who might be worthy of the white cloak?"
Ser Gerold's eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the list of competitors. "There are a few with potential," he replied, his voice steady. "Ser Gwayne Gaunt has shown promise. And there is Ser Jonothor Darry, a knight of impeccable honor and courage. Both could serve well in the Kingsguard."
Ser Barristan nodded in agreement, his eyes following a knight who had just unhorsed his opponent with a swift, decisive strike. "Ser Gaunt is indeed formidable. His skill with the spear is unmatched. And Ser Darry's loyalty is beyond reproach. They would bring strength and honor to our ranks."
As the knights continued to clash in the lists below, King Jaehaerys turned slightly in his seat, catching the conversation of his stalwart guards. His voice, though quiet, carried the weight of command. "Ser Gerold, Ser Barristan, we must also look beyond the immediate need for the Kingsguard. The realm grows ever more dangerous, and the shadows lengthen around us."
Both knights inclined their heads, listening intently as the king continued. "In the future, I shall appoint sworn swords for my grandsons, Rhaemon and Rhaegar. They will need men of unwavering loyalty and proven valor. Men who can protect them from the myriad dangers that lie ahead."
Ser Gerold's gaze hardened with resolve. "Your Grace, we will ensure that only the finest and most trustworthy men are chosen, both for the Kingsguard and for the protection of the princes. It is our duty, and we shall not falter."
Ser Barristan, ever earnest, added, "We will seek out those who embody the virtues of knighthood, both here and across Westeros."
Jaehaerys gave a solemn nod, his eyes momentarily drifting to the crowd, where faces of all stations watched with rapt attention. "The times are changing. With the return of dragons and the rise of new threats, our vigilance must be unyielding. The future of House Targaryen, and the realm itself, depends on it."
The tourney continued, lances shattering and the clang of steel echoing through the air. Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan resumed their watchful scrutiny, their minds already turning to the daunting task ahead.
In the midst of the spectacle and splendor, they stood as silent sentinels, guardians of a legacy that stretched back to Aegon the Conqueror and forward into an uncertain future. As the knights below fought for glory and honor, Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan fought a quieter, more profound battle—to ensure that the shield of the Targaryens remained unbroken, protecting the flame that had once more begun to burn brightly.