Caelyra: Sister-Wife and Dragonborn

6: Alive

The throne hall was deathly silent as the courtiers stared in shock at the Princess, kneeling amongst the burned ashes of the thieves, their King, standing as if frozen in time like the frost covering his front, over her with the sword Dawn raised.

Rhaegar  felt the disgust rolling off him at the sight of the courtiers. They had enjoyed  it, to see their Princess being burnt. Though, she did not and it had shocked even him to the core.

Only her hair was scorched and that could be regrown with time. If she were given the time, that is.

With this....He shook his head, he didn't  know what to call it. It wasn't really  a crime. Their cruel and mad father had tried to kill her for lies. Lies he didn't  know  anything about. Either way,  whatever what this was called, she had done it to a King and that meant punishment.

He breathed a sigh of relief  when his father suddenly  lowered Dawn and held it out to its owner, his eyes on the kneeling girl before him.

"Clean this  up," their father said to servants standing nearby, waving to the ashes of the women and whatever bits of them was left. Then he looked at Ser Gerold.  "Bring her to the Small Council chambers." His eyes looked towards Rhaegar. "Boy....come."

Rhaegar nodded and then removed his light summer's cloak from around his shoulders to hand it to Ser Gerold.  He would not let his sister suffer any more humiliation  before the court.

Ser Gerold took it from  him and walked over to Caelyra, covering her quickly with the cloak before lifting her up into his arms like some knight in the fairytales Caelyra used to love hearing from their nurse maid.

Rhaegar  didn't think that she perceived  it as such at this very moment in time.

He followed his father and the Small Council members to the chambers, situated not  far from the throne hall.

He, of course,  had a seat on the council,  but... it was essentially a useless  seat because no one truly cared for  his opinion.  Not even the King. The King who now were being fussed over by a servant to wipe off the melting frost.

He sighed softly as he made his way to the seat on his father's right, his indigo orbs observing as Ser Gerold  placed his sister on a chair to his father's left, ignoring  the fact that the chair was normally used by Tywin Lannister, the Lord Hand.

It was an inconvenience at best when the Lord Hand  took the seat beside her, his green eyes filled with something  akin to disdain.

"Is everyone  here?"

Everyone nodded, Rhaegar  included, though his sister didn't  even so much as twitch, her delicate hands fisting into the fabric of the cloak.

"Good," his father said, his eyes turning  to the girl. "So...you can breathe snow also?"

She didn't  look at him, she never really did, her eyes always looking past him or at something else. Rhaegar  didn't  blame her. She'd  been treated worse  than he ever had been by their father,  considering the  fact  that she had been mute for most of their lives.

"Frost," she said ever so softly that he wasn't  sure that he even heard her.

The madman they called "Father " waved his long nailed left hand dismissively. "Snow, frost, makes no difference to me, girl."

She didn't say anything  and Rhaegar  didn't expect her to. He wouldn't  have  said anything  either, were it him under interrogation.

He wondered what was going to happen to her now, now that she halted the punishment that was going to be given to her.
Will she be sent back to the black cells?