Donna ────── R. Targaryen

XVII

"I understand the queen is still readying herself for the celebrations."

"This is why men wage war." Jason Lannister nodded sagely. Rhaenyra did not know where this statement was going. "Because women will never be ready for the battle in time."

Rhaenyra and Viserys both pulled similar faces of forced amusement, before the girl's smile dropped.

"Your presence is always such a pleasure, Lord Jason."

"Princess. Your Grace." He bowed before walking away as Rhaenyra leant back to look at her father. Both of them shared a quiet laughter at the incredulity of it all, before someone cut in front of the line to speak with them.

"Your Grace, Princess Rhaenyra. Congratulations are in order." Rhaenyra did not know this man, nor could she remember his face. 

"We are very honoured to have you as our guest, Ser Gerold." Viserys spoke, as the name finally clicked in Rhaenyra's mind. This was her uncle's wife's cousin, someone she had yet to meet even when her uncle married Lady Rhea. "I must say, I was most distressed to hear of the Lady Rhea's tragic passing. I am very sorry for your loss."

"Lady Rhea was a unique character. Her kind is not soon to be seen again." Ser Gerold paused, his face growing saddened at the mention of his cousin. 

"If there is anything the crown may do to aid House Royce..." Rhaenyra was cut off as the drums started to roll, causing the courtiers to hurry back to their seat. The princess looked up, the start of a smile playing at her lips as the doors began to open.

"The Lady Myra of House Thorne and Ser Rickard Thorne, member of the King's Guard," Rhaenyra's grin remained hidden as Myra strode forward, her cane clicking against the ground. The woman was dressed in a beautiful red dress, her dark hair twisted up behind her has her cane clicked on the floor. Ser Rickard stood beside her, his arm out to help support the frail woman through the hall, "and the Lord of Alterwoode, Malkym Thorne. The future king consort."

Rhaenyra's heart seemed to skip a beat the introduction of the title, turning to look at her father as the hall started to applause. Her father merely squeezed her hand, seeing how truly happy his daughter was. 

Rhaenyra turned, before she set eyes on her future husband and if she were a little less composed, she feared her mouth would have dropped open. He stood tall and proud, dark hair brushed behind him and the start of a grin playing on his face. He was dressed in black, hinted with silver and red as his house colours. His sword was present on his hip, along with the dagger he had made the blood oath with. Calym and Michayl walked either side of him, both dressed somewhat similarly and as they drew closer, Rhaenyra could see that all three had sprigs of apple blossom pinned to their doublets. 

Rhaenyra could not help but feel as if she was the luckiest woman in the world, for how handsome her betrothed was and how she was almost marrying him.

Beside her, her father stood causing Rhaenyra to follow that motion close behind as the rest of the courtiers did. They were still applauding, and Rhaenyra caught her betrothed's eye as she sent him a little applause of her own. He chuckled, though she couldn't catch the sound as he was too far away, before bowing his head to her father as his family did.

Malkym stepped past his family, bowing deeply once more, before turning as Rhaenyra abandoned her seat. She hoisted her dress above her ankles, trying her best not to hurry around the table so that she could meet her betrothed.

"My betrothed." Rhaenyra held her hand out for Malkym to bring to his lips, fighting down a blush as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

"My darling dragon." She did blush at the nickname, not being able to hide the wide smile that graced her lips. Cheers started up once more, as Malkym squeezed her hand. "You look most beautiful, more so than anyone I have ever seen."