Y'olanda hadn't touched anything they served for the feast, celebrating the wedding that just concluded. Nobles danced, some opting to eat and engage in a mindless chapter, while the cunning ones greeted the Targaryen family at the high table.
Her sister asked her to join them there but every god in the sky would have to come down before she sat down with those venomous vultures. Haelana was very intriguing and odd. She hadn't had the chance to speak with her but all in good time. Some whispered that she was mad in the head but Y'olanda didn't think the same.
Y'olanda found herself sitting on one of the long tables that the High Table towered over.
The Queen Mother with her fiery red hair that contrasted deeply with her daughter, Haelena's silver hair, sat next to Haelena who sat beside her sister. Her newly married sister to Larys Strong.
Alicent had asked why Larys wanted to marry the foreign whore, however, she got baseless responses from the unsettling man. He made himself scarce to him and didn't call her to his room like he usually did. She fought the urge to bite her nails by digging them into her palm. She had bitten to the point that they were non-existent.
Why would Larys marry her? The whore was prepossessing, she admitted but that was all. No family name, no wealth, nothing. So what did he marry her? What was his goal? Her eyes flitted at him, to see his face expressionless.
The cripple of a man. She didn't care that he had a disability but she feared that his leg wasn't the only thing twisted and deformed since it was because of the darkness that lurked in him that made this wedding even remotely possible.
Larys had a grim look on his face, not trying to keep up appearances not like her sister, who fit in perfectly with them. Her hair was even braided like theirs, and her wedding dress had white and green jewelry, symbolizing the colors of House Strong.
The corners of Y'olanda's eyes wrinkled watching her sister. Her dress was the only thing she liked. Everything else was uncomfortable and strayed from home.
Her hair was styled in long, intricate braids that cascaded over her shoulder. The dress was a luxurious, fitted gown in a rich, golden satin fabric that shimmers in the light of the hall.
It featured a strapless, structured bodice with a heart-shaped neckline and delicate embroidery accents. When she walked in people gasped at the audacity of the dress especially because of the gown's high slit that reached her thigh, while a flowing cape draped gracefully from her shoulders.
Queen Alicent had no expression on her face but the way she glanced at Y'olanda from time to time spoke volumes to the girl. They had been at the Keep for 3 moons and at King's Landing for 7.
Larys Strong had left the capital a long time ago but suddenly returned with a bethroed. It had caught everyone off guard because of how beautiful her sister was and his soon-to-be wife was a foreigner whose home had been destroyed. So why did he want to marry her?
The man in her thoughts met her gaze. She gave a tight-lipped smile and he returned with raising his cup. A toast to a new alliance built on deceit.
The high table had four seats empty. The King, Aegon, who was badly injured, his brother and the Hand. The last two were off fighting the war that had started before she had left Dragon Stone. She even met Daemon Targaryen who called her a witch for speaking the truth.
"Born to be a leader, reduced to serving heirs!" Y'olanda had exclaimed when they first met and when she was leaving he had made his dragon breathe smoke through his nostrils to frighten her. It appeared that he was not very fond of her. She wondered why. But she was more than happy to leave Dragon Stone.
"My Lady, would you like to have this dance?" She lifted her eyelids slowly. This one, she recognised to be Jason Lannister. He had been staring at her all night. He stood before her, all eyes on them, watching what she would say.
"Forgive me, my Lord, but it appears that I am weary for the night." Y'olanda declined as politely as her lips could afford. Everything about him was wrong to her. People shouldn't look or act like this but here he was licking his lips lewdly. He hadn't even glanced at her face once.
"Are you sure, my Lady? It appears you have not been enjoying yourself like you ought to." Jason smiled, eyes on her breasts.
"It seems like in Westeros the breasts have been labelled as eyes, my Lord or am I wrong? I am beyond myself with somnolence, Lord Jason." There was a light smile on her face and the party stopped.
The audacity of her to insult the Lord of Casterly Rock and brother to one of the members of the Small Council.
Jason's face twisted, incredulous. "My Lady," he managed to say before stalking off. Most of them didn't know how to handle a jest. A pity. She would have to call it a night after congratulating the couple.
Just then, the double doors opened, making all heads turn towards it. Ser Criston Cole, Hand of the King in his armor walked in, hair wet and face tired and sunken in, aging him badly, however, his looks did not fade.
It was the person who was behind him that made her arch her brow, her breath catching in her throat. His long platinum silver hair was streaked with blood, and so was his right cheek and leather clothes. Under the Golden lights, his eye was a striking blue.
He was devastatingly handsome, and not in the common way. His beauty was dark and there was a mad glint in his eye that caused the room to feel suffocated and people averted their eyes.
Aemond Targaryen, ambled in, gracefully, sword at his hip, with a pout, however, Y'olanda could see a cloud over his face. Tiredness, maybe. She wasn't sure as she studied everything he did. Fascinating. That was a word she could use. Suddenly, this night had turned around.
"Lord Larys, congratulations on your marriage. You flee to return with such a beautiful treasure, unlucky us who have to come back with blood and scars." Aemond spoke in a raspy voice that sent shivers down all their spines.
Y'olanda's lips curled up lightly at his blatant mockery. Lord Larys, replied smoothly, in his snake-like voice, "Not all of us are made for the battlefield, my Prince. Many thanks for your greeting."
"Not here, Aemond. Our allies are watching. We need to appear united now more than ever." Queen Alicent placated her son who snapped his head towards her. A slight redness in his eye that startled her.
"Whatever you say, Mother," he dipped his head and took the seat at the middle of the table that was meant for the King, Cristian Cole on the one to his left, which made Haelena in between him and the Queen.
Both of them stared straight ahead, not touching their food.
W'yonna didn't know what to do or say so she toasted to the Prince, "A toast to the Prince Reagent's bravery and soon-to-be victory of the enemies!"
The throng raised their cups and toasted, "To Prince Aemond!" Aemond's face was blank as he drank out of his cup. Uninterested.
Y'olanda's lips hovered on the cup, something sparking in her mind. Everything about him was so bewitching that it shocked her. She had seen a lot of men in Westeros, finer than Aemond, but he piqued her interest and whatever drew Y'olanda's attention needed to be dissected.
She got to her feet, her Cape behind her, taking unhurried strides to the High Table.
"Lady Y'olanda," Queen Alicent called out but the braided girl's eyes were locked into Aemond. Her target.
She bowed in front of them, "My Queen, Dowager Queen, Ser Cristian Cole, Lord and Lady Strong congratulations on your wedding. May it be eternal and full of joy and unending happiness!" She smiled and W'yonna's features eased. A friendly face was all she had searched for all evening.
Aemond didn't spare her a glance, which was a slap in the face for her. But no worries, she liked the challenge.
"May I have this dance?" Her question left Alicent's fingers to tighten on her green gown. She was asking Cristian Cole for a dance.
"Forgive my Lady, but my feet are very sore from all the fighting, you see."
"The gods have mercies that I was the wiser to not have asked you, my Lord Hand," Y'olanda chuckled. "Would you like to dance with me, Prince Aemond?"
As fast as a snake bite, Aemond's eyes shot up pinning her down with just his gaze.
The courage Y'olanda had was baffling to every single person. They all knew who Aemond was. Cold, ruthless, and was never seen with any woman. He rode the largest Dragon in the world, was rumored to have killed his nephew, and was responsible for the state of his brother. All unproven facts but no one showed up to a celebration bloody.
W'yonna shut her eyes tightly. What was her makai up to?
Aemond's eye slowly scrutinized the brown-skin girl who appeared to glow before him. Who was this girl that had the gall to speak to him?
"My Prince?" The girl in question tilted her head to the side, eagerly waiting for an answer.
***
A/N: This chapter is one of the reasons I decided to write this book! Show some love by voting and commenting your thoughts. Happy New Month! Oh and happy late Halloween!🩵