Chapter 7

While Rhaenyra moved forward, seemingly unaffected by the attention, Aerion scanned the crowd, identifying potential allies and adversaries among the faces.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the sprawling camp. Knights in polished armor and noble lords in richly embroidered cloaks congregated around long tables laden with succulent meats and goblets of fine wine. Their hearty laughter echoed through the air, a stark contrast to the tension that simmered beneath the festivities.

Noble ladies formed their own gatherings, attended by maids bearing trays of fruits, drinks, and cakes.

Lady Elara, resplendent in crimson silk, leaned in to whisper to Lady Malish, her eyes darting toward the Targaryen pavilion. "Did you see the way Lord Jason Lannister eyes lingered near Princess Rhaenyra? A budding alliance, perhaps?"

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Viserys made his way to his throne, taking his seat amidst salutations from the lords, knights, and the king's guards. Nearby, Alicent joined a group of women, her laughter mingling with theirs as they engaged in lively conversation.

The king's throne, carved from ancientwood, stood at the heart of the encampment. Viserys settled into its crimson cushions, his silver hair catching the light. His gaze swept across the assembled nobility, assessing loyalties and hidden agendas.

Aerion and Rhaenyra stepped into the main tent, immersing themselves in the lively and vibrant atmosphere. With a glass of wine in hand, Aerion accompanied Rhaenyra as they navigated through the sea of guests.

The main tent, its canvas billowing in the breeze, housed a food hall worthy of royalty. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted game, exotic fruits, and delicate pastries. Aerion's eyes widened as he spotted a platter of spiced stag meat, a rare delicacy reserved for special occasions.

In one corner, a group of noble ladies huddled together, their conversation punctuated by sips of tea and bites of cake. They exchanged whispers about the Stepped Stone Islands, sharing tales of a noble lady's abduction by pirates and her impending sale in the Free Cities.

Lady Elys, her eyes sharp as obsidian, leaned toward Lady Jocelyn. "The pirates demand a king's ransom for Lady Sera. But who would pay such a price for a mere pawn in their game?"

The Ladies talked about the stepstones as Alicent joined the group mostly with intention to know what the king thought from Alicent words but unfortunately Alicent remained silent.

As Rhaenyra moved through the tent, she was approached by an elderly woman, her white hair contrasting with her lavish attire. The woman sought Rhaenyra's opinion on the circulating rumors.

Lady Meredyth, a relic of courtly intrigue, clasped Rhaenyra's hand. "Princess as the heir to the throne . What say you?" she asked stressing the word heir.

Rhaenyra not noticing and, eager to engage, leaned in, only to be met with unexpected hostility. The conversation quickly took a turn, as lady Redwyne joined in with accusations thrown at Rhaenyra about usurping Daemon's position as heir.

"Lady Redwyne," Rhaenyra's voice remained steady, "Daemon's actions have consequences. I seek only what is rightfully mine."

Even Alicent, despite her allegiance to House Hightower, supported Rhaenyra, asserting her belief in Rhaenyra's right to the throne, despite the actions of her father and the murmurs favoring Aegon as heir.

Alicent, her eyes cool as winter ice, stepped forward. "Daemon is accountable for his actions and the king had found him not suitable for the throne and Princess Rhaenyra is more fitting for the role of heir."

Allison dismissed any suggestion that Daemon had been unjustly deprived of his inheritance.

"And it can be seen from his reckless action of starting war" steering the conversation towards Daemon's role in sparking a private war.

"His reckless actions have indeed cost the kingdom," lady Redwyne echoed, her gaze unwavering. "Daemon's lust for power ignited flames that threaten to consume us all."

Immediately afterward, Lady Redwyne turned her attention to Rhaenyra, her sharp gaze narrowing. The old woman's eyes bore into her, and Rhaenyra braced herself for the impending confrontation.

"The kingdom should dispatch fleets and men to eradicate the Triarchy once and for all, what do you think Princess ?" Lady Redwyne proposed and asked, her question sharp as Valyrian steel.

Rhaenyra's smile faded. "The kingdom is not at war. My father is still in negotiations," she retorted, her tone firm.

"The crown is at war, Princess," Lady Redwyne insisted, her fingers tightening around her goblet. "Your uncle and the Sea Snake have implicated the kingdom, it is just that your father, refuses to admit it."

Rhaenyra's patience waned. " You seem deeply worried about the war, But I wonder, how have you served your country lately, lady. Redwyne? By indulging in cakes and desserts?" Her sarcasm hung in the air, a blade unsheathed.

A soft chuckle escaped from Aerion, the silver-haired scion of House Targaryen. Another man joined in, their amusement punctuating the charged silence.

Suddenly, a burst of boisterous laughter sliced through the tension, its discordant sound reverberating around the opulent hall.

Lady Redwyne's features hardened. Her gaze shifted to Aerion, whose laughter still echoed. "Your Highness," she asked Rhaenyra, her voice laced with thinly veiled disdain, "Is this the prince?" The question was rhetorical; Aerion's identity was the worst-kept secret in the kingdom.

Rhaenyra glared at the women, choosing to ignore the old woman's pointed question. She spun on her heel and strode away, leaving a trail of whispers in her wake.

Aerion, fully aware of Lady Redwyne's intentions, didn't let it affect him. With a smile playing on his lips, he stepped forward, his demeanor radiating grace. "Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen," he greeted, his gaze steady on Larys.

His attention wasn't due to any particular hobbies; nor did he have any interest in this second son of House Strong. Instead, it was the faint magical fluctuation that caught his senses—an undercurrent of power from the lean, seemingly harmless man.

Aerion Targaryen stood before the assembly of noble Ladies. "I'm Aerion, Aerion Targaryen's and yes I'm the prince" He introduces as he glanced at Lady Redwyne, a reminder of his .

"My father, the king, and his ministers are competently managing the realm's affairs, the war and it's after effects are within their calculations" Aerion declared, his tone laced with a hint of mockery. His gaze looking lady Redwyne to the eye, who clutched her pug tightly. "There's no need for concern, from Cake-lady."