Chapter 48: The "Truth"
…
Richard POV
1 day later
It was a windy night at Casterly Rock, and I stood alone in the courtyard, feeling the chill air whip around me, cutting through the high quality linen and silk I'd worn for my ceremony for the final feast.
In my right hand, I held the document I'd fought and schemed for—the one that finally marked my place among the nobility of Westeros.
Less than an hour ago, I'd been in those halls, where nobles and ladies feasted, their laughter and voices filling the room.
I had sworn my oath of allegiance before Tywin Lannister, my words echoing through the great hall packed with lords, ladies, and the eyes of the realm's most powerful houses.
Under the gaze of men and women, who a week ago saw me as nothing more than a nameless squire, I had been raised to a knight and now to a minor lord with land and a title of my own.
Now, that weight settled on me, heavier even than the biting wind.
"Castamere," I whispered, my fingers brushing over the name inked on the parchment.
This ruin would be my seat—a place I'd heard of only in hushed tales and songs.
From my capos and scouts, I'd learned that the keep was in shambles, the mines sealed with rubble, the lower levels flooded.
The castle above was scarred, walls scorched and fallen, and the proud halls that once echoed with music now lay silent, buried under decades of dust and ghostly memories of the Reyne massacre.
But its ruin didn't matter—not when I had my Lionheart family and the wealth won from the tourney. I had the coin, the power, and the will.
Castamere would rise again under my watch.
The reason for my choice was the potential of Castamere. The castle is nestled near the western coast. To the east, its mountains fed fresh streams that ran through the land, a steady source of water.
The fields lay fallow, fertile and waiting, with the potential to yield more than enough to sustain my house and its people.
And the sea, not far from its walls, opened doors to trade routes, fresh fish and salt, and perhaps, someday, a port city of my own, like lannisport.
This place wasn't merely a ruin. It was a foundation—a broken one, yes, but waiting to be rebuilt.
As I stood there, with the wind's howl and the distant rumble of waves filling the night, something stirred deep within me. The feeling of happiness, pride, and contempt for now.
Moments later, I rolled up the document and slipped it into my leather pouch. The moment was over; I had finished my contemplation, ready now to put on my mask and return to the feast.
I sighed at the thought of entertaining the many nobles.
I didn't mind spending time in conversation with Gerion, Tygett, or Oberyn—each could be amusing in their own way.
But with my new moniker, "Galahad the Gallant," and the prestige of winning four events at the tourney, I knew tonight would demand a different kind of attention.
The lords and ladies would expect me to play the part of a celebrated knight, entertaining their endless curiosity.
As I thought this My focus went to a figure hiding behind a hedge in the garden. I smirked.
I knew it was Elia Martell.
Before I had arrived here She had followed me out of the hall and to the outside. I had sensed her presence the entire time I'd been in the courtyard.
All this time, as I stood lost in thought, she lingered in the shadows, watching me, hesitant to step forward.
It seemed that despite everything I've done to her, she still harbored feelings.
I'd already driven two daggers into her heart. The first had been my subtle rejection; the second, my crowning of Alicent as the Queen of Love and Beauty.
I acted as though I hadn't noticed her, making my way up the stairs into the garden path that wound toward the entrance into the rock.
…
Elia Martell POV
In the garden atop Casterly Rock, a familiar space now weighed with too many memories, I crouched in the shadows, hidden among the hedges.
The once carefree moments I'd shared with Galahad in this very spot seemed like another life—sitting at the stone bench, laughing, enjoying cake, and basking in each other's company.
It was all so simple back then. I never would have imagined that I'd fall for him, not like this.
Now, as I pressed a hand to my chest, I felt the dull ache of my heart. The pain, so sharp, made it hard to breathe.
Why had I even hidden?
My mind had been set on speaking to him, clearing the air, resolving the tension between us.
But when I saw him, when I heard his footsteps drawing near, the courage I thought I had evaporated.
I didn't want things to be awkward between us. I didn't want our friendship to dissolve into nothingness, nor did I want the bond we'd shared to fade away completely.
Yet here I was, paralyzed, afraid of speaking the truth. I felt fragile, exposed in a way I never had before.
I was a princess from Dorne—proud, confident, unyielding. Yet in his presence, all of that seemed to crumble away.
Was it fear? Fear of being rejected again? Fear of seeing him turn away, of knowing that he had chosen someone else? Someone who wasn't me?
I heard his footsteps stop just beyond the hedges, and my heart skipped a beat. I held my breath, wrapping my arms around myself as if it could shield my heart from the rawness of this moment.
Then, his voice broke the silence. "Princess Elia, is that you?"
I froze. The sound of my name on his lips felt like a weight I wasn't ready to bear. The pain of it hit me square in the chest, and my head spun. I felt dizzy, light-headed. My weak body, always so delicate, seemed to betray me.
Before I could even speak, I felt his hands, strong and sure, lifting me from the ground. His arms were steady as he cradled me, almost effortlessly, as though I were weightless.
"Have you collapsed while walking in the gardens?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and surprise.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My thoughts were too tangled, too clouded by everything I couldn't say. The weight of all I had left unspoken pressed down on me, too heavy to lift.
I rested my head against his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into me. I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and unyielding.
His grip tightened slightly, and I felt his gaze on me, waiting for an answer. But I had no words to give. He must have seen it in my silence, seen the weight of everything I was too afraid to say.
He didn't press me for answers, just adjusted his hold on me, lifting me as if I were nothing more than a fragile piece of cloth.
His question hung in the air like a weight I couldn't shake. "Should I take you to your quarters?" His voice was soft, reluctant, unsure of what I truly needed at this moment.
The warmth of his breath, so close to my skin, sent a shiver down my spine, but it only made the emptiness I felt grow larger.
I couldn't hold it in anymore. The tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. My chest felt tight, suffocating from all the words I hadn't spoken.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I choked out, my voice breaking.
My heart felt like it was splintering into a thousand pieces as I tried to make sense of it all. The confusion, the pain, the hope he had given me, only to watch it crumble.
"Why did you give me hope?" I continued, barely able to breathe through the storm in my chest.
"The cake, the favor, the night ride, the smile, the sweet words, the conversations… why?" My voice had turned hysterical, rising with the chaos I couldn't control.
He fell silent. For a moment, the world around us seemed to pause, as if even the garden itself understood the weight of what was unfolding between us.
He didn't answer at first, but eventually, he walked to a nearby bench, setting me down gently as if I were something fragile.
His words broke the silence like a crack of thunder.
"It's because you're the princess."
I froze. The words didn't make sense, or maybe they did. My mind tried to catch up, but the confusion lingered like a fog I couldn't push away.
"What?" I whispered, barely able to comprehend.
He sat beside me, the distance between us small yet unbridgeable, as if the space between us was widening by the second.
His eyes softened, a distant sadness creeping into his expression as he spoke again.
"When Oberyn told me you had fallen for me, I was the happiest man alive. A smallfolk like me… to have a princess fall for me, it felt like a dream." His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, the raw honesty in his words cutting through the air.
A cold shiver ran through me. He was happy? Was that really true? It didn't feel that way before, not with the way he had shut me out.
The doubt gnawed at me, but his words, his confession, wrapped around my heart like a bittersweet warmth.
"I'll be truthful with you," he continued, his gaze fixed on the ground, his voice heavy with something I couldn't quite place. "I had fallen for you too."
The words sent a shock through my chest, and for a moment, I was still. My heart pounded, but it was a mix of hope and confusion. He had fallen for me? Was this some cruel twist of fate?
Before I could speak, I felt the memories of his rejection and betrayal wash over me.
"If you loved me, why did you hurt me?" The question escaped my lips before I could stop it, a deep ache threading through every word.
"Why did you give the crown of love and beauty to whoever that girl was, and why did you say you love another, your childhood friend?" My voice had grown serious, almost accusing, the pain leaking through in every syllable.
He looked down then, his gaze falling to the ground, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of my words was too much to bear. Guilt. Regret.
"I don't have a childhood friend." He started with a revelation that shocked me to my core.
"I lied because I didn't want to hurt you… I couldn't face you after telling the lie… so I gave the crown of love and beauty to some random smallfolk," he continued to confess, his voice breaking while doing so.
His hands covered his face, and I could see the pain in his posture—the weight of knowing that our love, the love I had hoped for, could never truly be. The truth hurt more than I expected.
But then he lowered his hands, and the sight of him—tears streaming down his face—struck me harder than anything else.
Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him in a quiet embrace.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"I know," I whispered softly, "I forgive you."
…
Note: As you can see there was gaslighting and manipulation in this chapter. If y'all expected something else I'll just remind you that almost everything he does under his identity as Galahad is an Act. Dude is not about to say sorry without any benefits.
The Arc has come to an end. Next chapter is a small timeskip. It's an interlude chapter. It will be the nameday of Richard and Alicent.
Reminder: This novel is not a Harem. If I ever get tempted, I hope y'all hold me back.