Chapter 6: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

"Come on, cousin, or we'll miss the melee!" I sighed as the bubbly girl pulled me by the hand to the stall where the Royal Family sat. The girl was my cousin, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, The Realm's Delight. We both took seats in the front row as the many warriors rode about on horseback, knocking weapons from each others' hands or otherwise knocking them from their horses. I mostly just nodded along as Rhaenyra excitedly pointed out each of the houses' livery on their shields or tabards.

It'd only been a few months since Viserys had been coronated at Oldtown. Now, a great tourney had been organized at Maidenpool, where I now sat, next to Rhaenyra, watching as fighters fell, one by one. I didn't understand why this had to be held, I guess it was a show of unity? I didn't really care, though watching the bouts was fairly fun.

The last two in the melee were my father, Prince Daemon, and some knight whose sigil neither Rhaenyra nor I recognized. The two crossed weapons multiple times as they rode past each other, before the nameless rider whacked my father's hand with a morningstar, sending Dark Sister into the dirt, winning the melee. I turned around as my uncle climbed off his chair and descended to where the rider came up and presented the victor's laurel to him. I hopped up, Rhaenyra right behind me, as I walked over to wear the knight sat on his horse.

"Ser, what is your name? I must know who could have defeated my father!" I said, with a huge smile on my face.

The smile faltered for just a moment as the helmet came off and I saw the features. Shit. The knight seemed to not notice as he looked at me with a respectful smile, though it got more genuine when he saw my cousin next to me.

"If it would please Your Graces," he said in a clear Stormlander accent, "I am Ser Criston Cole. Prince Daemon fought well, he is a truly skilled opponent."

I tried not to scream internally as he spoke.

Is it too late to ask father to kill him the same way The Mountain killed that one dude in canon? I assumed it probably was, as my uncle would recognize that and would get my father exiled too early. I simply gave Cole a smirk as the people began filing out of the stands, and I continued walking, waving to Cole behind me, though Rhaenyra stayed standing in front of him, only to have the laurels placed on her brow. I groaned as Rhaenyra came running up to me, bouncing in excitement. I really, really want that guy dead!

A great feast was thrown that evening, and I was, once again, seated next to Rhaenyra. I knew what Viserys was doing, or maybe it was Aemma's idea, though they were being a bit heavy-handed with it. It was the same thing that had been done with Prince Aemon and Jocelyn Baratheon, they had been sat next to each other at feasts until they couldn't be separated. It didn't matter to me, though, Rhaenyra was quite fun to speak with, and she could keep and retain information better than most people I knew. And her High Valyrian was spectacular, and I heard it quite often since most of our conversations were in it. At least Viserys didn't make a scene, Aemma seemed to keep him from saying anything. Gods, I loved that woman. Only 21 and kept the King from doing anything stupid.

The feast eventually dispersed, and the next day came, with me once again sitting next to Rhaenyra, who was still wearing the laurels given to her by Ser Criston. It made me want to kill him even more… wait, was I jealous? Oh, I was certainly jealous. Damn it, why was that knight so hot! The joust kicked off as the various knights rode… and Criston had been given Rhaenyra's favor happily.

Eventually, it came down to the finals, Ser Criston Cole v. Prince Daemon Targaryen. I was positive that this match hadn't been the finals in canon, because Cole had defeated my father and the Cargyll twins, only to be felled by some Mallister in the final tilt. I pulled out two gold dragons and smiled at Rhaenyra.

"These two dragons say that father wins!" I said, with a grin. She looked at me, then at the coins in my hand, and nodded, quickly retrieving two of her own.

"Ser Criston can beat him again!" she said. I shrugged as I put the four gold coins between us. I didn't know how it would turn out, the matches were already different than the ones I knew. The two rode once, neither fell, a second time, neither fell. The third time, however, a lance struck true, as my father went flying off his horse and landed on his ass. I sighed as I slid the four gold dragons over to the cheering Rhaenyra. Criston did a victory lap around my father just to rub it in, then was given the laurel crown.

Predictably, he once again rode over to Rhaenyra and placed it gingerly on her head, her face red as a tomato but her smile as bright as ever. Carefully, I slipped my arm through hers and placed a hand on her elbow. I gave Ser Criston a measured glance as he seemed to nod before dismounting.

Upon his victory, the crowd once again filed into the castle, the feasting beginning all over again. So many of the Lords attending were just here to curry favor with my royal uncle, some names I recognized from the books, others not. It was so strange finally being able to put a face to many of the nameless words that my eyes had passed over years ago.

Rhaenyra was still at my arm, laughing at something the current fool – whose name I couldn't think of – had just said… something about a Septon and a goat. I personally found it quite funny, and laughed loudly, but most of the guests looked scandalized. Eventually, at a lull in the conversation, Viserys motioned for everyone's attention.

"I have an announcement to make!" he called out. "As his boon for winning both the melee and the joust, as well as with the agreement of my daughter, I have chosen to name Ser Criston Cole as my daughter Princess Rhaenyra's sworn shield. May he have long and fruitful years of service to her!" The hall went up in cheers at the announcement. After a glare at him from my father, I gave him a shrug, and clapped for propriety's sake. Criston will remain loyal to Rhaenyra, I thought. Or else I'll enjoy watching him burn. Wait, where had that come from? I really didn't like these random Targaryen thoughts!

At least everyone was relatively united right now. At that moment, I could categorize everyone into two categories: Blacks and Blues. Those that had supported Viserys at the Great Council, and those that had supported Laenor. I knew that eventually, more would split off, due to others being born and the succession getting very, very messy.

Of the Great Houses, I knew Houses Tully, Lannister, and Tyrell were Blacks, while Houses Stark and Baratheon had been Blues; House Arryn was… well, I still received letters from Jeyne constantly, and returned them happily, so I suppose House Arryn was whatever I wanted it to be. Lord Redfort was a far better Lord Protector than Yorbert ever could have been, anyway, and he clearly kept House Arryn's interests in mind.

I knew from canon that the Blues, under Corlys Velaryon, would be absorbed into the Blacks as they coalesced around Rhaenyra, and my father's supporters eventually would as well, while Otto, the current forefront of the Blacks, would go on to found the Greens. But more work had to be done. Rhaenyra had overestimated her support in canon, and while the Tullys, Arryns, and Starks had followed her, the Baratheons had betrayed her for a better offer, the Lannisters had jumped straight for the Greens, while the Tyrells had put their fingers in their ears, closed their eyes, and pretended nothing was happening as their bannermen slaughtered each other.

I grabbed a cup of water and drank it slowly, looking around the room. It was the calm before the storm, all of these lords would be taking sides soon. Even as everyone was drinking and eating and laughing, I knew they would be sizing each other up, planning power plays, and planning strategic marriages. Even at what was supposed to be a happy event, the game played on.