𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐎𝐚𝐭𝐡

The Blue Gown

As the council dispersed, members drifted in different directions, each carrying the weight of familial and political intrigues. Viserys, deep in thought, retired to his private chambers to rest for the upcoming feast this night.

Alicent, with a mask of composure, headed towards her quarters, contemplating the strategic moves needed to secure her family's position. Rhaenyra, with a furrowed brow, retreated to her own chambers, where the flickering candlelight played witness to the storm of emotions within.

The impending feast, meant to celebrate Princess Thereya's welcome, hung in the air like a shadow of uncertainty. The members of House Targaryen, now scattered and embroiled in their individual preparations, navigated the intricate web of alliances and rivalries that defined their legacy. The path to unity, stability, and the continued strength of their house remained uncertain, awaiting the revelations and decisions that the feast would bring.

Thereya, still half-asleep and disoriented, mumbled in response, "I could have been killed, and now they want me to prepare for the feast?" Her words, laced with a mix of bewilderment and exhaustion, echoed the lingering shock of the recent events.

Helaena, attempting to soothe her, said, "We need to show strength and unity. Come, get ready. The feast is a chance to assert our presence and navigate these troubled waters together." The weight of the night's events hung in the air as they prepared for the impending feast, a delicate dance between vulnerability and the resilience required of those bearing the Targaryen name.

Thereya, tired and annoyed, decided to yield to the persistent whispers of responsibility. With a weary sigh, she pushed herself up from the bed, her hair in disarray, a testament to the restless night she had endured.

As she began the process of preparing for the feast, the mirrored reflection in the chamber revealed the weariness etched across her face. The coming events loomed, and Thereya, despite the tumultuous night, readied herself to face the challenges that awaited outside her chambers.

Helaena, seeing Thereya's tired expression, moved closer and gently began to sweep her tousled hair away from her face. Each stroke was a tender gesture, an attempt to alleviate the weariness that lingered.

"Thereya, you need to look your best for the feast," Helaena said with a small smile, her fingers delicately navigating through the strands.

As Helaena continued to arrange her hair, Thereya, still feeling the fog of sleep lifting, asked with a hint of exasperation, "What am I supposed to wear? How do they expect me to look?" Her disheveled appearance and the weight of the recent events had left her uncertain about the expectations surrounding the impending feast.

Helaena, offering a reassuring smile, replied, "Wear something elegant. They want to see strength and grace. You're representing our house, and tonight, we show them that despite challenges, House Targaryen remains resilient." The subtle guidance aimed to navigate the delicate balance between vulnerability and the regal poise expected of a Targaryen princess.

As Helaena continued to assist Thereya in preparing for the feast, she offered gentle guidance on comportment. "Remember, hold your head high, speak with confidence, and show strength. The eyes of the court will be upon you, and tonight, you represent House Targaryen."

Meanwhile, in a separate part of the keep, Aemond made his way toward his brother Aegon's chambers. The air crackled with tension as House Targaryen prepared to present a united front at the feast, despite the undercurrents of familial discord that lingered. The night held the promise of both celebration and revelation, as the Targaryens navigated the delicate balance between appearances and the truths that lay beneath.

Aemond pushed open the door to Aegon's chambers, expecting to find his brother readying for the upcoming feast. Instead, he was met with the sight of Aegon, deep in sleep, seemingly oblivious to the weight of recent events.