In the Shadow of the Red Keep
The day after his arrival, Annatar rose to a calm morning in the Red Keep. He had not yet grown used to the grandeur surrounding him—hallways with soaring ceilings, stone walls covered in rich tapestries, and the faint echo of voices bouncing down the corridors. Yet today, there was a certain excitement in the air, a kind of intrigue. Queen Alicent herself had summoned him to meet her in the gardens.
He found her seated in a quiet alcove amidst blooms of blue and purple flowers. As Annatar approached, she greeted him with a gentle smile, her composure as flawless as ever. Though she appeared calm, her eyes carried a sharpness, as though they saw everything that happened within the walls of the Red Keep.
"Annatar," Alicent began, her voice soft but deliberate. "You've had a life full of service—first with Prince Daemon, and then with Lord Corlys Velaryon. It seems you've served some of the realm's most celebrated warriors."
Annatar inclined his head respectfully. "Yes, Your Grace," he replied, carefully choosing his words. "Prince Daemon and Lord Corlys each taught me different things—one about the heat of battle, the other about the strategy and patience it takes to be a leader."
Alicent's eyes lingered on him with a mixture of curiosity and appraisal. "I imagine the path you've traveled has made you wise beyond your years," she said. "A young man of both skill and principle."
Her words carried a gentle approval, yet Annatar felt as if she were evaluating him for something deeper. He smiled politely. "Thank you, Your Grace. I have been fortunate to learn from the best, and I try to make myself useful wherever I am."
"Such humility is rare," Alicent said, her tone softening. "I do hope you'll come to see the Red Keep as your home. Family… can be complicated, but we are bound together by more than blood. We are united by our duty to the realm."
Her words hinted at a deeper intent, and Annatar nodded, acknowledging the implication. "It is an honor to be welcomed as family, Your Grace," he replied with sincerity. "It has been a long time since I felt I belonged anywhere."
Alicent's eyes softened, and for a brief moment, he saw a flicker of sympathy. "You have a good heart, Annatar," she said, almost to herself. "In these halls, keep it close. Loyalty and integrity are priceless here, and I hope you'll find a way to maintain both."
Annatar felt the weight of her words as they walked, and soon they arrived at the gardens where her children awaited.
The children of the king and queen, he thought, observing them with keen interest. Aegon, the eldest, held an aloof and indifferent expression, more interested in the birds flying above than in meeting him. Helaena, his younger sister, seemed lost in her own world, her gaze fixed on a small insect crawling along her hand. And then there was Aemond, intense and perceptive, who watched Annatar with open curiosity. Beside him was his twin sister, Visenya, whose dark eyes studied Annatar with a certain intensity that reminded him of Daemon.
Aegon was the first to speak, giving Annatar a quick, dismissive glance. "So, you're the one everyone is talking about?" he asked, a hint of boredom in his tone. "Prince Daemon's former squire?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Annatar answered politely, meeting Aegon's gaze with calm respect. "And Lord Corlys's, after that."
Aemond stepped forward, his eyes lighting up. "Is it true that you fought in the Stepstones? That you battled side by side with Prince Daemon?"
Annatar smiled, nodding. "Yes, I did. Prince Daemon was a fierce warrior, as I'm sure you've heard. I learned much from him."
Aemond's face lit with admiration. "I wish I could fight in a war like that."
Queen Alicent placed a gentle hand on Aemond's shoulder. "There is more to ruling than battles, my son," she said, her tone both affectionate and firm. "But Annatar can tell you his stories. There is much to learn from one who has seen the world beyond the Red Keep."
Annatar turned to Aemond, who looked at him with open admiration. "Aemond," Annatar began, "there is indeed glory in battle, but also a great deal of hardship. You'll come to know that in time."
Just then, footsteps echoed through the gardens, and Annatar turned to see Princess Rhaenyra approaching with her husband, Laenor Velaryon, and their two young sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys. Behind them strode Ser Harwin Strong, towering and protective, his gaze fixed on the family he had sworn to serve.
Alicent's polite smile tightened slightly as Rhaenyra approached, though she quickly covered it with a serene expression. "Princess Rhaenyra," she greeted coolly. "We were just introducing Annatar to the family."
Rhaenyra regarded Annatar with a curious but wary look. "Annatar," she said, acknowledging him with a faint smile. "I've heard much about you from Daemon. He speaks highly of your loyalty and courage."
Annatar dipped his head respectfully. "Thank you, Princess Rhaenyra. Prince Daemon has been a mentor and… something of a guide," he replied.
Laenor gave Annatar a polite nod, his focus shifting back to his sons, who were eyeing Annatar with curiosity. Jacaerys, the elder, had an alert, almost mischievous look in his eye, while Lucerys clung to his father's hand.
Annatar couldn't help but notice how neither of the boys resembled Laenor in the slightest. Their features—dark hair, strong, broad builds—looked far more like Harwin Strong, who lingered behind them, his eyes flicking between Rhaenyra and her sons with a silent protectiveness. It was no wonder rumors whispered through the Red Keep that these two were bastards, sons of Rhaenyra's sworn protector rather than her husband.
Annatar held his thoughts in check, merely noting the resemblance in silence. He knew how dangerous words could be in this court, how even the slightest suspicion voiced aloud could ripple through the corridors of power and bring disaster.
Sensing the tension, Alicent smiled warmly at Jacaerys and Lucerys. "Do you like knights?" she asked, her voice gentle.
Jacaerys's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he nodded. "Yes, I do! I want to be a knight like my mother's protector," he said, glancing at Harwin.
Lucerys echoed his brother's excitement, his small voice almost inaudible. "Me too!"
Annatar gave them a kind smile. "Knighthood is a noble path. But remember, it's about more than just strength. True knighthood is about honor, protecting those who cannot protect themselves."
Rhaenyra studied Annatar for a long moment, her gaze sharp. "Wise words," she said, her tone carrying a hint of challenge. "And I hope you remember them, for the court has a way of testing one's honor."
Aegon rolled his eyes at the conversation, muttering something about how "war stories" were tiresome, but his mother quickly quelled his attitude with a pointed look.
"Remember your manners, Aegon," Alicent said with quiet firmness. She turned back to Annatar, her gaze softening. "I hope you'll feel at home here, Annatar. We all come from different places, but we are united by our duty to House Targaryen."
Rhaenyra's eyes flicked between Alicent and Annatar, a glimmer of skepticism passing over her face. "Yes, family is everything," she said, her voice cool.
The atmosphere between the two women was tense, the quiet animosity barely hidden beneath the veil of politeness. Annatar sensed the weight of the rivalry, and he realized that his newfound place in the Red Keep would not be simple. Alliances, loyalty, and tension swirled around him, each member of the family vying for their place in the game of power.
Laenor caught Annatar's eye and gave him a slight nod of support, as if to say, Welcome to the game. The message was clear—Annatar would have to tread carefully to navigate the turbulent waters of Targaryen politics.
As he looked at his newfound family, he knew that his time in the Red Keep would be filled with challenges, loyalties tested, and perhaps even a few secrets unearthed. But he also felt a strange sense of belonging, as if fate had brought him here to discover the family and destiny he'd always longed for.
The Legacy of Oldstones
Annatar spent his final week in the Red Keep in quiet contemplation. He had grown accustomed to the opulence of King's Landing and the constant undercurrent of intrigue in the halls. But now, he was ready to leave behind the whispers, the watchful eyes, and the tension that seemed to cling to him every moment.
On the morning of his departure, he was led to the courtyard where Silverwing awaited, her silvery scales glistening in the early light. He mounted her with ease, feeling the familiar rush of anticipation as she unfurled her mighty wings and took to the skies. Below him, the Red Keep grew smaller, a distant memory against the vast expanse of the Seven Kingdoms.
Their journey was swift, and as they neared the Riverlands, Annatar looked down at the landscape—a rolling, green quilt of hills and rivers, with ancient forests stretched out beneath him. At last, the ruins of Oldstones came into view, perched on a hill overlooking the Blue Fork of the Trident. The castle was a shadow of its former self, but Annatar could still see the remnants of its ancient glory. Moss and ivy clung to broken walls, and the once-mighty towers were now skeletal remains.
As he landed, he took in the ruin with a heavy heart, though he quickly steeled himself. This will be a home worth restoring, he thought. A legacy worth reclaiming.
He wandered through the remains of Oldstones, taking in the haunting beauty of the castle's broken structures. Once, this had been one of the grandest castles in all of Westeros, home to the ancient Kings of the Rivers, the Mudd Kings, who had ruled as First Men long before the Targaryens had come with their dragons. In the great hall, once filled with the laughter and stories of the Mudds, only shadows remained. Crumbling walls and shattered floors spoke of centuries of neglect.
"I will restore you," Annatar vowed softly, his voice carrying over the desolate space. "I will make you greater than you ever were under the Mudd Kings."
Determined, Annatar immediately set to work organizing a plan. He needed masons, architects, builders—workers from all over Westeros who could help him rebuild Oldstones. The castle, he decided, would rise once more, a beacon of strength and resilience. He would not let his house die in a ruin; he would breathe life back into these walls and make Oldstones a place worthy of his name and legacy.
A few days later, Annatar found himself once more in the throne room of King Viserys, presenting his plans and requesting his support. Viserys, pleased by his nephew's passion and sense of purpose, listened intently as Annatar described his vision for Oldstones.
When Annatar had finished, he asked, "Your Grace, may I ask about my liege? Will I be sworn to Lord Tully, as the Riverlords are?"
At this, Viserys chuckled, an amused smile softening his features. "No, Annatar," he replied, his voice warm. "You have a dragon, and that makes you a direct vassal to the crown. You answer to no lord but me."
Annatar's eyes widened. He hadn't fully grasped the gravity of what it meant to have a dragon and a noble title. He would be a lord in his own right, beholden to none but the king himself—a privilege few could claim. And Viserys, he saw, took pride in this decision, wanting his nephew to forge a path that was distinctly his own.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Annatar replied, a sense of pride and purpose filling his heart. "I will honor this responsibility."
Viserys leaned forward, regarding Annatar with a paternal warmth. "I have faith in you, Annatar. Oldstones will rise again, and it will be a place the realm will speak of with admiration and respect."
As he left the throne room, Annatar felt a new sense of purpose. This was more than a simple inheritance; this was an opportunity to create something that could last for generations—a place where he could build his own family, his own legacy.
Returning to Oldstones, Annatar called for master craftsmen and workers, spreading word throughout the Riverlands and beyond that he sought skilled hands to aid him in the rebuilding of Oldstones. Slowly but surely, people began to arrive—stonecutters, carpenters, and laborers—all drawn by the promise of restoring a castle to its former glory. As they worked, Annatar oversaw every detail, lending his own hands to the labor when he could.
Days turned into weeks, and soon, the foundations began to take shape, stone by stone. Annatar could already imagine the castle's great hall filled with light and laughter once more, the sound of footsteps echoing through corridors long abandoned.
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