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naeleys · 11 months ago

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CHAPTER 02 — the queen of love and beauty

author's note. both damon and robert aren't knights in particular since they are future lords but participating in the tourney like daemon had while being a prince. but i had called them knights in here so let us pretend that they took knighthood here before becoming lords of their houses.

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Years had slipped by since the birth of Princess Rhaenyra, each one weaving a tapestry of peace and prosperity around her life. From the tender age of five months, when her father, King Aerys, had proudly declared her "The Realm's Delight," she had been cherished by all. Now, at fourteen, Rhaenyra had blossomed into a stunning young woman, her beauty celebrated far and wide across Westeros. Her name was immortalized in songs, stories, and poems that praised her grace and allure.

"There's nothing for you to fret about; you're beautiful," Vivienne Hightower, her lady-in-waiting, reassured her gently as she braided the princess's long, silver hair. "You are the beauty of Westeros for a reason."

"Being the beauty of Westeros doesn't guarantee a good husband," Rhaenyra replied, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Men will come for my title and appearance, not for who I truly am."

Vivienne paused, her hands stilling as she glanced at the mirror, catching the despondent expression on Rhaenyra's face.

"You don't have to accept a suitor if you don't feel a connection or happiness," Vivienne consoled her. "The King and Queen would never allow their only daughter to end up in a miserable marriage."

As she finished braiding, Vivienne rose and gently pulled Rhaenyra to her feet. "Come now, we mustn't be late for the tourney for Prince Viserys's nameday."

King Aerys had arranged a grand tourney in honor of the first nameday of his youngest son, Prince Viserys. Nobles from across the realm had been invited, making it a prime opportunity for Rhaenyra to find a suitable match, as her father had subtly suggested. She was, after all, of marriageable age now.

"I heard a certain heir participating in the tourney has his eyes set on you," Vivienne remarked with a sly smile as they settled into the royal box beside the Lord Hand and the King.

Rhaenyra exchanged pleasantries with Cersei Lannister, the daughter of Tywin Lannister, who was of similar age.

"Is that so?" Rhaenyra inquired, arching an eyebrow at the smirking Alicent.

"Rumor has it he's an honorable man," Vivienne chimed in, her voice carrying a note of intrigue.

"Lord Rickard Stark has also arrived with his sons: Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen Stark," Cersei added, causing both ladies to glance her way in surprise. "They've come to seek your hand.”

"But doesn't Eddard Stark have a lover?" Rhaenyra asked, her brow furrowing. "I heard she's from House Tully."

"Perhaps," Cersei said with a nonchalant shrug. "But what use is a lady when he could have a princess?"

"Speaking of which..." Vivienne murmured, her gaze shifting. The others followed her line of sight to see Lord Stark and his three sons approaching the royal box, each of them tall and striking.

"Gods be good," Vivienne whispered, clearly captivated by their presence. "Is there something in the air at Winterfell?"

Cersei giggled at Vivienne's remark, a lightness in the air as they watched the Stark men draw near.

"Your Grace," Lord Stark greeted with a deep bow, his sons following suit.

"Lord Stark! It is a pleasure to see you. How do you find King's Landing so far?" the King asked warmly.

"Very different from the North, Your Grace," Lord Stark replied with a hint of a smile.

"We hope you find it comfortable," the King continued, before gesturing to the young men beside Stark. "May you present your sons?"

"The eldest, Brandon Stark, heir to Winterfell," Lord Stark introduced.

Brandon stepped forward, bowing to the King before turning to Rhaenyra. "Your Grace," he said, his stormy grey eyes locking onto hers. He was undeniably handsome, and his intense gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

"Princess," Brandon added, his voice deep and steady.

Eddard, the second son, stepped up next. "Your Grace," he greeted with a kind smile directed at Rhaenyra. His long brown hair and prominent beard lent him a more mature appearance, and if not for the introductions, Rhaenyra might have mistaken him for the eldest.

"And lastly, Benjen Stark," Lord Stark concluded. The youngest son approached, his eyes setting on Rhaenyra with a mix of admiration and awe. He had heard tales of her beauty and kind heart but had never seen her in person. Her generosity to the smallfolk was well known, and it only deepened his respect for her.

"Your sons are fine young men, Lord Stark," the King said, bringing Benjen out of his thoughts. "May they accomplish great things in the future. Daughter?"

Rhaenyra rose gracefully and approached the Starks with a warm smile. "Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to finally meet you all."

"Princess Rhaenyra," Lord Stark said, taking her hand and kissing it gently. "It is an honor to meet you."

"I heard that you're seeking a husband?" he asked, his tone respectful but pointed.

Rhaenyra's smile faltered slightly. The pursuit of a match had almost slipped her mind amidst the grandeur of the tourney. Queen Rhaella had always assured her that marriage would bring happiness, especially with the prospect of motherhood. Rhaenyra wanted to believe her, but she couldn't ignore the reality of her parents' troubled union. The sadness in her mother's eyes spoke volumes. King Aerys might have been a loving father to her, but he was far from a devoted husband.

"That I am," she replied, her voice steady but tinged with uncertainty.

"Then let's hope you find a suitable match," Lord Stark said, glancing subtly at his sons, as if suggesting one of them might be the answer.

The three Stark brothers took note of their father's look. Brandon puffed out his chest, determined to make an impression. Though he didn't love the princess yet, he was prepared to fulfill his duties as a husband and, perhaps in time, grow to love her.

Eddard, however, avoided his father's gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. His heart was already promised elsewhere.

Benjen, the youngest, felt overshadowed. As the spare, he had little to offer in terms of inheritance or status, with the birthright belonging to Brandon. Still, he excelled in swordsmanship and could offer protection if nothing else.

Returning to her seat, Rhaenyra let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"How was it?" Cersei asked, her curiosity evident. "Did any of them catch your eye?"

Vivienne, too, turned her gaze toward the princess, awaiting her response.

"None of them particularly interest me," Rhaenyra replied, her tone measured, though she added, "Brandon Stark isn't entirely unattractive."

Vivienne offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you may find yourself drawn to him in time."

Brandon Stark, with his confident demeanor and striking looks, had certainly left an impression. His intense gaze lingered in her thoughts, and she couldn't deny his appeal. But as Vivienne had pointed out before to her, physical attraction alone didn't guarantee a happy union. Eddard's distant manner and Benjen's youth made them less appealing in her eyes, but she couldn't dismiss any of them outright.

The burden of her title weighed heavily on her. As the only daughter of King Aerys, she knew her choice of husband would have far-reaching consequences. It wasn't just about finding a man she could grow to love; it was about securing a future for the realm. The stakes were high, and the pressure to choose wisely was ever-present.

The horns blared, and the crowd erupted in cheers as the grand tourney in honor of Prince Viserys's nameday commenced. The air was thick with the sounds of clashing swords, hooves thundering on the dirt, and the excited murmurs of the gathered nobility. Knights, eager to prove their skill and valor before the royal family, paraded onto the field, their armor gleaming under the sun.

Rhaenyra sat in the royal box, flanked by her parents and her lady-in-waiting, Vivienne. Although the festivities were in full swing, her mind wandered back to the Stark brothers and the looming prospect of marriage. The burden of her future weighed heavily on her, even as the crowd's enthusiasm surged around her.

Suddenly, the next joust was announced, pulling Rhaenyra's attention back to the field. A knight in shining armor, his shield emblazoned with the sigil of House Strong—three rivers (blue, red, and green) on white, flowing from a black escutcheon displaying a white hand—rode out with confidence. The sunlight glinted off his polished helm as he took his position, his posture exuding both strength and determination. Across from him, his opponent, a knight from House Arryn, prepared to meet him in the clash.

"Lord Damon of House Strong!" the herald's voice rang out over the crowd, naming the challenger. The spectators leaned forward in anticipation, eager to witness the skill of the man who had captured the admiration of many.

Rhaenyra's gaze fixed on Damon, a mix of curiosity and admiration in her eyes. There was something undeniably captivating about the way he carried himself—proud, yet not overly arrogant. As the joust began, the tension in the air thickened. Damon spurred his horse forward, lance aimed with precision. The crowd held its breath, waiting to see which knight would emerge victorious in this contest of skill and bravery.

The crowd murmured in anticipation as Lord Damon Strong took his place on the field. The tension in the air was palpable, with eyes fixed on the formidable knight who had earned a reputation for his strength and fearlessness.

"There he is!" Vivienne whispered excitedly beside Rhaenyra. "Lord Damon Strong, son of Osbert Strong, heir to House Strong. He's renowned for his unmatched prowess in battle."

"They call him Lord Damon 'Breakbones' Strong," Cersei added, her voice tinged with admiration. "Some say he's even better than my twin brother Jaime."

Vivienne leaned closer to Rhaenyra, her excitement barely contained. "He's quite the warrior, isn't he?”

Rhaenyra nodded, her gaze fixed on Damon as he readied his lance. "Yes, but being a good warrior doesn't necessarily mean he'll make a good husband."

Vivienne smiled, her voice softening. "True, but it's a start."

As the two knights charged at each other, the sound of clashing steel filled the air. Damon's skill was undeniable—he unseated his opponent with a single, powerful strike, sending the knight of House Arryn crashing to the ground. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, and Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a flutter of admiration at his prowess.

Damon dismounted and removed his helm, revealing his sweat-soaked hair and a triumphant smile. His eyes searched the royal box, and when they met Rhaenyra's, he bowed deeply, a gesture of respect that held a hint of something more. The sincerity in his gaze made her heart skip a beat, and she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Embarrassed by the unexpected reaction, she quickly turned away, feigning interest in the next match.

But Vivienne had noticed the exchange and leaned in with a teasing smile. "You may not be as indifferent as you claim, Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra huffed, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "He's impressive, I'll admit. But I'm not making any decisions based on a joust."

"That's wise," Vivienne agreed. "But remember, you should follow your heart, too."

Rhaenyra's smile faded slightly as her gaze drifted to her parents. Queen Rhaella watched the tourney with a serene expression, yet Rhaenyra knew the sorrow that lay beneath that calm exterior. Her father, King Aerys, cheered loudly, his mood as unpredictable as ever. Their marriage had been a strategic alliance rather than a love match, and Rhaenyra couldn't help but fear that she might face a similar fate.

As the tourney continued, she realized the burden of her position. The prospect of marriage wasn't just about choosing a husband; it was about securing the future of the realm. Despite her feelings, she knew she had to tread carefully, balancing duty with the desire to forge her own path.

"Lord Damon Strong is now going to choose his opponent for the second battle!" the announcer's voice rang out, cutting through the roar of the crowd.

Damon Strong, having finished his first bout, rode back to his horse and made his way along the line of waiting knights. His gaze swept over the contenders, and Rhaenyra noticed Cersei Lannister stiffen as he stopped right in front of her brother, Ser Jaime Lannister. For a tense moment, Cersei's face paled, but relief washed over her as Damon's horse veered away and continued down the line.

"You're afraid he might crush Jaime?" Rhaenyra smirked, noting Cersei's anxious expression.

"I am merely concerned for my brother's safety," Cersei replied, her tone defensive.

"Of course," Rhaenyra chuckled. "But this is a tourney, Lady Cersei. Knights are expected to compete fiercely for their honor."

Damon's horse came to a halt in front of another knight, whose shield bore the sigil of House Baratheon. With a deliberate and confident motion, Damon pointed his lance at his chosen opponent.

The announcer's voice boomed again, "Lord Damon has chosen Lord Robert of House Baratheon as his opponent!"

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers at the news. The clash between Damon Strong and Robert Baratheon promised to be a spectacle, each knight known for his strength and skill. Rhaenyra's attention remained fixed on the field, eager to see the outcome of this high-stakes match.

Rhaenyra had yet to meet Robert Baratheon in person, but she had certainly heard whispers about him among the ladies of the court. He was famed for his bravery and strength, his reputation as a fierce fighter preceding him. Many of the court's ladies had been captivated by his charisma, and his name was spoken with a blend of admiration and infatuation.

As Damon chose Robert Baratheon as his opponent, the excitement in the air grew palpable. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, eager to witness the clash between two of the realm's most formidable knights. Rhaenyra felt a flutter of curiosity and interest, eager to see how Robert would perform.

Cersei, having regained her composure, now watched the scene with a focused gaze. "Lord Robert Baratheon," she said, her voice thoughtful. "They say he's as wild and untamed as the storm that bears his house's sigil."

Rhaenyra agreed, her eyes following the two knights as they prepared for their joust. "He has certainly earned his reputation. But Damon is equally skilled. This promises to be a clash of titans."

As the knights readied themselves, the crowd fell into a hushed silence, the tension mounting as the two warriors prepared to face off. The outcome of this joust would not only entertain the spectators but could also potentially shift the balance of power and influence within the court.

The two lords took their positions, lowering their visors and readying their lances. The air was thick with anticipation as the crowd fell silent, the only sounds being the rustle of banners and the distant call of a horn. Then, with a thunderous burst, the horses charged, hooves pounding across the arena.

Rhaenyra held her breath as the two lords closed in on each other. The impact was spectacular, the clash of lances ringing out through the stands. For a moment, it was unclear who had the advantage—both Damon and Robert remained steadfast in their saddles, their lances splintering from the force of their collision.

Robert Baratheon, with a roar of defiance, urged his horse forward again. His lance, now broken, was discarded as he readied himself for hand-to-hand combat. Damon, quick and agile, dismounted gracefully and drew his sword to meet Robert's challenge. The two lords circled each other, the crowd erupting in cheers at the unexpected turn to melee combat.

Rhaenyra's eyes were locked on the duel. Damon was precise and controlled, his movements strategic and fluid. In contrast, Robert fought with raw power and unbridled energy, each swing of his sword like the charge of a bull. It was a contest of finesse versus might.

Cersei leaned in, her voice a soft murmur. "Robert fights like a man possessed. He's relentless.”

Rhaenyra nodded, her heart racing as the fight grew more intense. Damon managed to parry one of Robert's mighty blows, using the momentum to land a strike of his own. Robert staggered momentarily but quickly recovered, his face set in fierce determination.

The battle seemed endless, each lord pushing the other to their limits. Finally, with a masterful maneuver, Damon disarmed Robert, sending his sword clattering to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, their admiration clear. Damon's victory was met with enthusiastic approval, the display of skill and strength leaving a lasting impression on all who witnessed it.

Robert, breathing heavily, stepped back and raised his hands in surrender. "You've bested me, Lord Damon," he said, his voice tinged with grudging respect.

Damon, ever the gentleman, extended a hand to Robert. "It was an honor, Lord Robert."

The two clasped hands, and the crowd erupted in a roar of approval, their cheers resonating through the arena. The display of mutual respect between the combatants was met with admiration from all corners.

As the dust settled and the lords made their way back to the sidelines, Rhaenyra felt a deep sense of admiration. The tourney had been filled with unexpected moments, but the clash between Damon and Robert stood out as the highlight of the day.

Cersei, her eyes still focused on the departing males, seemed pleased with the outcome. "It appears that Lord Damon has made quite an impression today," she remarked, a note of admiration in her voice.

Rhaenyra smiled, her gaze following Damon as he returned to his place. "Indeed, he has. But it's not just the reputation he's earned. It's the honor and skill he's displayed that truly matters."

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the tourney grounds. The final events of the day had come to a close, and the air was charged with anticipation. The crowd fell silent as Lord Damon Strong, the day's victor, dismounted from his horse and made his way to the base of the royal box.

Rhaenyra, seated amidst her family and court, felt her heart quicken. The honor of being named Queen of Love and Beauty was a rare and coveted accolade, and she had watched many of her peers receive it before—Vivienne Hightower had been crowned twice in the past year alone. But now, as Damon approached, Rhaenyra found herself the focus of attention.

Damon's armor gleamed in the dying light, bearing the marks of his arduous battles. Despite the sweat and dust, he carried himself with an air of pride and confidence. As he neared the royal box, Rhaenyra's gaze met his, and in that fleeting moment, the world seemed to fall away. She saw not merely a knight but a man of remarkable honor, skill, and grace—qualities that had been evident throughout the tourney.

At the base of the royal box, Damon paused, holding a crown of flowers delicately woven together. His eyes never wavered from Rhaenyra's as he spoke, his voice carrying across the hushed grounds.

"Princess," he began, his tone both respectful and earnest, "it is with great honor and admiration that I present to you this crown, in recognition of your beauty and grace. You have been the true queen of this day, and it is only fitting that you should wear this token of our esteem."

The crowd's collective breath seemed to hold as Damon extended the flower crown towards Rhaenyra. Her heart swelled with a mix of emotions—surprise, joy, and a hint of something deeper. As she reached out to accept the crown, the setting sun cast a warm glow around her, making the moment feel both magical and timeless.

The evening air was filled with a palpable sense of excitement and wonder as Lord Damon Strong stood before the crowd, his voice ringing clear and strong.

"My lords and ladies," he began, his tone carrying a weight of sincerity and respect. "Today, I have fought not only for honor but for the admiration I hold for a woman whose beauty, grace, and spirit are unmatched in all the realms. It is my privilege, my honor, to name Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen as the Queen of Love and Beauty."

The announcement was met with a thunderous applause, the cheers and clamor of the crowd echoing through the twilight. Rhaenyra sat momentarily frozen in her seat, the unexpected honor leaving her stunned. However, the excited nudges from Vivienne and Cersei—both practically bursting with enthusiasm—soon jolted her into action. Rising to her feet, Rhaenyra ascended the steps to the royal box, each step feeling both surreal and momentous.

As she reached the top, Damon awaited her, the crown of flowers held delicately in his hands. With a gentle, yet ceremonious touch, he placed the crown upon her head. The lightness of the flowers was a stark contrast to the profound emotion she felt. The gesture carried a depth of meaning that transcended the mere act, and as their eyes met, Rhaenyra felt a soft, genuine smile form on her lips.

"Thank you, Lord Damon," she said, her voice carrying a warmth that reflected her gratitude. "You honor me greatly."

Damon bowed deeply, his gaze remaining locked with hers. "The honor is mine, Princess."

With Damon stepping back, the crowd's cheers grew even more exuberant. Rhaenyra glanced around the royal box, seeing the pride in her father, King Aerys's eyes, the soft smile of her mother, Queen Rhaella, and the mixed emotions of admiration and perhaps envy from the other nobility.

But it was Damon's gaze that she returned to. In that moment, with the crown of flowers resting upon her silver hair and the cheers of the crowd ringing in her ears, Rhaenyra felt a connection to him that went beyond the simple gesture of the day.

As the evening sky darkened and the stars began to appear, Rhaenyra knew that this day would be one she would remember for the rest of her life. The title of Queen of Love and Beauty was fleeting, but the memory of Damon's gesture—and the way it had made her feel—would stay with her forever.

< masterlist > < next chapter >

#game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #tyrion lannister #daenerys targaryen #viserys targaryen #rhaegar targaryen #ned stark #jon snow #sansa stark #got fanfic

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