Kapitel 8: -8-
The soft glow of lantern light flickered against the walls of Aelora's chamber, casting gentle shadows that danced with the quiet rhythm of the evening. The air was filled with the faint scent of lavender from the small bouquet resting on her bedside table. Aelora sat at her embroidery frame, her fingers deftly weaving the colorful threads into intricate patterns. Each stitch was a soothing balm against the tumult of emotions that had stirred within her earlier that day.
As she worked, the door creaked open, and Aegon stumbled into the room, a lopsided grin plastered across his face. His usually confident demeanor was slightly unsteady, the effects of too much wine evident in his gait and slurred speech. "Aelora!" he exclaimed, his voice breaking the serene atmosphere. "What a delightful surprise to find you here all alone!"
Aelora looked up, her brow furrowing in concern. "Aegon, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. "You should be with your family or resting."
He sauntered over to her, the scent of wine and revelry wafting off him like a cloud. "Resting is for the weary!" he declared, plopping himself down onto a nearby stool with a careless abandon. "I'd much rather be here with you, my dear niece."
Aelora's heart raced, tension creeping into the pit of her stomach. "This isn't appropriate, Aegon. You shouldn't be wandering around the castle at this hour, especially not in my chambers."
He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on her hands as they moved gracefully with the needle. "What's that you're working on? It looks lovely," he said, genuine admiration creeping into his tone despite his inebriated state. "You've always had a gift for this sort of thing."
Aelora tried to brush off the compliment, focusing on her work to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "It's just a small piece," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I find it calming."
"Calming?" he scoffed, his playful demeanor returning. "Wouldn't it be great if we were the ones who got married instead? Just imagine it—me, sitting there watching our kids play while you sit there sewing all day. It sounds idyllic, doesn't it?"
Aelora's heart dropped at his words, a rush of anger and disbelief flooding through her. "What are you saying, Aegon?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "You cannot be serious."
He merely chuckled, leaning back in his seat, unperturbed by the tension that had suddenly surged between them. "Why not? You're beautiful, intelligent, and you would make a fine wife. Who wouldn't want that?"
Before she could respond, Aegon leaned closer, his intentions clear as he attempted to bridge the gap between them. Aelora's instincts kicked in, and she pushed him away, her heart racing with a mix of disdain and fear. "Stop it!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in alarm. "If you don't leave this room right now, I'll tell Jacaerys!"
The mention of her betrothed's name seemed to sober Aegon momentarily, his expression shifting from playful to frustrated. "You wouldn't dare," he challenged, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
"I will," Aelora insisted, her resolve hardening. "You're drunk, Aegon."
He studied her for a moment, a flash of something—regret, perhaps?—crossing his features, but it was quickly replaced by his familiar bravado. "You're right; I'm drunk. But I'm not wrong about us. You know there's something between us, Aelora."
Her voice trembled with emotion as she spoke, "There is nothing between us, Aegon. You need to leave."
Aegon, sensing the finality of her words, slowly stood from the stool, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," he said, his voice low. "But don't think this is over. I'll always find my way back to you."
With that, he turned to leave, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. Aelora watched him go, her heart racing and her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She felt a mixture of relief and disappointment as the door clicked shut behind him.
Silence enveloped her once more, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions that had just unfolded. Aelora sank back into her chair, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up her embroidery again, though she found it difficult to focus. The thread slipped through her fingers as her mind replayed the encounter, the weight of Aegon's words lingering like a heavy fog.
The tension of the evening still clung to her, and the shadows in her chamber felt more oppressive than before. How could Aegon have acted so brazenly? What had made him think he could simply waltz into her life and propose such a ludicrous idea?
Just as she thought the confrontation was over, the door creaked open again, and Aelora turned, her breath catching in her throat as she saw Jacaerys standing in the doorway, concern etched across his handsome features.
"Aelora?" he called softly, stepping into the room. "I wanted to check on you."
A wave of relief washed over her at the sight of him. "I'm fine," she replied, forcing a smile despite the tumult of emotions within her. "Just… lost in thought."
Jacaerys studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Are you sure? You look a bit pale."
"I promise, I'm alright," she insisted, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. "Just a long day, that's all."
He stepped closer, his expression softening with concern. "You can tell me if something is bothering you, Aelora. You know that, right?"
Aelora swallowed hard, wrestling with the urge to confide in him about Aegon's earlier visit. But the fear of causing unnecessary turmoil held her back. "Really, Jacaerys, I'm fine," she repeated, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
He seemed to accept her words, but she could see the lingering concern in his eyes. "Alright," he said slowly, though she could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. "But if anything is troubling you, I want you to know that I'm here for you."
"I know," she replied, her heart swelling with affection for him. "And that means the world to me."
Jacaerys smiled, and in that moment, she felt a warmth spread through her, chasing away the shadows that Aegon had cast over her thoughts. "Good," he said, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll let you rest. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
As he turned to leave, Aelora called out to him, her voice softer than she intended. "Jacaerys?"
He paused, looking back at her with a curious expression. "Yes?"
"Thank you," she said, her heart full. "For always being there for me."
He smiled, the warmth of his gaze wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. "Always, Aelora. I'll always be by your side."
With that, he stepped out of the room, leaving her alone once more. Aelora took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Aegon's words beginning to lift, even as the memory lingered in the back of her mind.
As the night deepened and the moon hung high in the sky, Aelora returned to her embroidery, her fingers moving deftly as she channeled her thoughts into the delicate stitches. With each pass of the needle, she reminded herself of the path she had chosen and the love that awaited her in Jacaerys—steadfast, true, and unwavering.
★
The dining hall of the Red Keep was alive with a sense of tension, a stark contrast to the opulence that surrounded the Targaryen family. Tapestries adorned the walls, and the long wooden table gleamed with the reflection of the flickering candlelight, yet the atmosphere was thick with unspoken grievances and the weight of familial discord. A spontaneous decapitation earlier that day had cast a pall over what was meant to be a joyous gathering, but the king had ordered everyone to dine together, and so they did.
As the members of House Targaryen settled into their seats, King Viserys, his frail body adorned in regal attire, raised his goblet to address them. "How good it is to see you all tonight, together," he began, his voice earnest yet strained, seemingly unaware of the palpable unease that permeated the room.
Viserys's heart was heavy with sorrow, and he sighed deeply, removing the gold mask that obscured the left side of his face. The sight of his empty eye socket sent a shiver through the gathered family—a painful reminder of his mortality. "I wish you to see me as I am," he continued, his voice wavering yet resolute. "Not just a king, but your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire, who may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the assembly, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his family. "Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the house of the dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly."
Viserys's impassioned plea resonated throughout the hall, stirring the adults into a contemplative silence. The gravity of his words was not lost on them; even the most hardened hearts felt a twinge of remorse.
Rhaenyra, the king's firstborn, rose to her feet, her expression a mixture of warmth and determination. "I would like to propose a toast," she declared, her voice steady. "To my father, King Viserys. I love you, Father, but I must also acknowledge Queen Alicent, who has been by your side through thick and thin." She raised her goblet, her eyes shining with sincerity. "She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude. And my apology."
Queen Alicent accepted the toast with a gracious nod, her expression softening. "Thank you, Rhaenyra," she replied, her voice full of emotion. "We have more in common than we often remember. And I believe you will make a fine queen one day."
However, amidst the sincere sentiments exchanged by the adults, the younger Targaryens were less affected by the poignant moment. Aegon leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his lips. "So, Jacaerys," he teased, his tone mocking, "do you even know how to consummate your marriage with Aelora? Or will you be too busy sewing pretty little tapestries?"
Jacaerys shot a glare at uncle, his jaw tightening with irritation. The atmosphere shifted, tension crackling in the air as Aegon's taunts hung over the table like a dark cloud.
Helaena, Aegon's sister and wife, attempted to lighten the mood with her own toast. "I would like to raise a glass to Aelora and Rhaena," she began, her voice bright yet naive. "They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you. Except sometimes when he's drunk."
Awkward silence fell over the table, the adults exchanging uncomfortable glances. Only Daemon laughed. Viserys, sensing the discontent brewing among the younger generation, desperately tried to redirect the energy of the evening. "Perhaps we could have some music?" he suggested, a hopeful smile gracing his lips.
To his relief, the tension began to dissipate as the musicians struck up a lively tune. A glimmer of cheer returned to the hall, and Jacaerys seized the opportunity to offer his hand to Helaena. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, his tone light, though his intentions were clear—he sought to provoke Aegon.
As Helaena accepted, the two of them glided into the space before the table, their movements graceful as they joined the rhythm of the music. Aegon's expression darkened, jealousy flaring in his eyes as he watched his younger brother twirl Helaena beneath the chandeliers.
Rhaenyra, glancing at Daemon, allowed a smile to cross her lips, the momentary levity offering a brief respite from the earlier tension. Even Alicent, her demeanor softening, found herself swaying gently to the melody, her eyes glistening with a mix of nostalgia and hope.
Yet, amidst the laughter and merriment, Lucerys found himself unable to look away from Aemond, whose gaze was fixed on the dance floor with a mixture of disdain and something else—perhaps longing. Lucerys couldn't suppress a snicker, and Aemond's sharp gaze snapped toward him, narrowing with irritation.
With the king out of the room due to a sudden bout of illness, Aemond seized the opportunity to make a toast of his own. "A final tribute to the health of my nephews," he announced, his voice cutting through the music. "Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong. Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys."
The room fell silent, the reference to Harwin Strong igniting a firestorm of outrage. Jacaerys stood abruptly, his face flushed with anger as he stepped toward Aemond. "Dare to say that again," he challenged, his voice low and dangerous.
Queen Alicent swiftly intervened, her expression stern. "Aemond, why would you say such a foolish thing?" she admonished, her voice firm and unwavering.
But the tension had already escalated, and the younger Targaryens stood poised for a confrontation. Daemon, sensing the impending chaos, stepped in, his presence commanding as he quelled the rising tempers. "Enough," he declared, his voice like iron. "The children will be sent to their rooms."
Rhaenyra, her expression resolute, turned to Alicent. "I ought to return to Dragonstone with the children," she said, her tone firm yet considerate. "But I promise you, I will fly back to check on Father. I know he would appreciate it."
Aelora, seated beside Jacaerys, felt the weight of the evening's events pressing down on her. Amidst the chaos, Jacaerys reached under the table, intertwining his fingers with hers, offering a sense of reassurance that grounded her. She glanced at him, her heart fluttering as a gentle smile graced her lips, a silent acknowledgment of their bond amidst the turmoil.
However, the moment did not go unnoticed. Aegon and Aemond exchanged glances, jealousy flickering in their eyes as they observed the intimacy shared between Jacaerys and Aelora. Aegon's expression hardened, and Aemond's jaw clenched, their frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
As Rhaenyra gathered the children, preparing to depart, Aelora felt a swirl of emotions within her. The evening had been a whirlwind of tension and revelations, yet Jacaerys's touch brought her a fleeting sense of peace.
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