291 AC
Kings Landing
Third Person POV
The sun, a warm, benevolent orb, shone down upon King's Landing, its rays glinting off the Red stone of the Red Keep. The city, once a labyrinth of squalor and chaos, now hummed with the orderly bustle of prosperity, its concrete roads clean, its gas lamps ready for the coming dusk.
The training yard of the Red Keep was a vibrant scene of activity, far removed from the grim purpose it had served a century and a half ago. Here, the clang of steel on steel was not the sound of war, but of disciplined practice, a testament to the realm's enduring peace.
King Maekar Targaryen stood observing, a stern figure in a practical leather doublet, his silver hair neatly braided. His eyes, sharp and assessing, missed nothing. He was a king of action, who believed in leading by example, even in the mundane.
His sons, Prince Rhaegar and Prince Baelor, sparred fiercely in the center of the yard. Rhaegar, the Crown Prince, if he doesn't do anything stupid, moved with a fluid grace, his longsword a dance of precision and finesse. He was a scholar as much as a warrior, his movements reflecting a thoughtful, almost poetic approach to combat.
Baelor, his younger brother, was a stark contrast. He wielded a heavier greatsword, his movements powerful and direct, relying on brute strength and relentless pressure. He was a formidable presence, a bull in the lists, his blows capable of shattering shields.
Their Kingsguard, clad in gleaming white, stood watchful. Not just seven, but a contingent of fifty sworn shields now protected the royal family and the Red Keep. A dozen of them stood around the training yard, their presence a silent testament to the security of the realm. A few younger squires, sons of loyal lords, practiced their drills nearby, their eyes occasionally darting towards the royal princes, eager to emulate their skill.
After a particularly vigorous exchange, where Rhaegar deftly disarmed Baelor with a swift twist, the two brothers lowered their blades, breathing heavily but with smiles on their faces.
"Still too quick, brother," Baelor grunted, clapping Rhaegar on the shoulder. "One day, I'll catch you."
Rhaegar chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Perhaps when you learn to think beyond brute force, Baelor. A sword is an extension of the mind, not just the arm."
King Maekar approached them, his gaze approving. "Well fought, my sons. Your skills are a credit to the Crown. Rhaegar, your precision is commendable. Baelor, your strength is undeniable."
He then turned to a Kingsguard. "Bring water for the princes. And tell the stable master to prepare the carriages. The Queen will be expecting us." Two Kingsguard immediately moved to attend to the princes, while another two went to relay the message, ensuring the royal family was always under constant protection.
As they drank, Princess Rhaelle, Maekar's daughter, entered the yard, her silver gold hair flowing behind her, a vibrant splash of color in a riding habit. She was a keen horsewoman, and often joined her brothers for morning rides. Two Kingsguard accompanied her, their white cloaks stark against the yard's earthy tones.
"Still at it, brothers?" she teased, her voice light. "I thought you'd be too exhausted to ride after such a display."
"Never too exhausted for a ride, sister," Rhaegar replied, offering her a charming smile. "Especially when the roads are as smooth as they are now." He gestured towards the gleaming concrete roads that led out of the Red Keep.
"Indeed," Baelor grunted. "No more broken axles on the way to the city gates."
Maekar nodded.
The Great Hall of the Red Keep was a symphony of light and color, a testament to the Targaryen dynasty's enduring power and the realm's prosperity. Sunlight streamed through the high, arched windows, illuminating the vibrant tapestries depicting dragons and kings.
Long, polished tables, laden with platters of food, stretched across the hall. The mid-day meal was a grand affair, a gathering of the royal family and their closest retainers. Even within the hall, Kingsguard were strategically positioned, two assigned to each royal family member, their presence a silent, ever-present shield.
At the high table, King Maekar sat at the head, his Queen, Rhaenys, beside him. Queen Rhaenys, a woman of striking beauty and sharp wit, presided over the table with grace.
To Maekar's right sat Prince Rhaegar, the Crown Prince, his demeanor thoughtful. Beside him sat his wife, Princess Elia Martell, her Dornish features a graceful counterpoint to his Targaryen silver. Elia, elegant and intelligent, brought a quiet strength to the royal family.
Their children, a boy and a girl, sat nearby. The boy, Prince Aemon, already showed a keen intellect, while his younger sister, Princess Daenerys, possessed a fiery spirit that hinted at her Targaryen blood.
To Maekar's left sat Prince Baelor, his robust frame filling his chair. Two Kingsguard were positioned behind him. Beside him sat his wife, Lady Cersei Lannister, her golden hair and emerald eyes a striking presence. Cersei, sharp-tongued and ambitious, had adapted to court life with ruthless efficiency.
Their children, two boys and a girl, carried the distinct Lannister features, their golden hair gleaming under the hall's light. Each child also had a Kingsguard assigned. Prince Aenar, the eldest, already possessed a shrewd, calculating gaze.
Across from them sat Princess Rhaelle, Maekar's daughter, her dark hair and bright eyes reflecting her mother's beauty. Beside her sat her husband, Lord Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. Robert, boisterous and jovial, brought a hearty laugh and a love for the hunt to the royal family.
Their children, a boy and a girl, were a blend of Baratheon strength and Targaryen fire. Prince Steffon, the eldest, was already a strong, athletic boy, while his sister, Princess Myrcella, possessed a gentle charm.
Further down the table, but still at the high table, sat other members of the royal family, those who held important positions across the realm.
There was Prince Aelor Targaryen, King Maekar's brother, who served as the Lord of Dragonstone. He was a thoughtful man, often found in the ancient libraries of the island. Beside him sat his wife, Princess Vaella Targaryen, Maekar's sister, her beauty undimmed by time. They were a quiet, intellectual pair, deeply devoted to their children.
Their two children, Prince Daeron and Princess Jaehaera, sat with them. Daeron, a serious young man, was already bonded to a dragon, while Jaehaera, known for her gentle nature, was a skilled rider.
Further still, sat Prince Aerion Targaryen, King Maekar's other brother, who held the crucial position of Lord of the Stepstones, overseeing the newly integrated kingdom. He was a more martial figure than Aelor, his face weathered by sun and sea. Beside him sat his wife, Princess Dyanna Targaryen, Maekar's other sister, a woman of fierce spirit and sharp wit.
Their two children, Prince Valerion and Princess Laena, sat with them. Valerion was a bold, adventurous boy, already showing a talent for naval matters, while Laena was known for her striking beauty and her love of the sea. Each of them also had a Kingsguard assigned.
The hall hummed with conversation, the clatter of plates, and the occasional burst of laughter. Servants moved silently, refilling goblets of wine and ale, bringing fresh platters of roasted meats, savory pies, and sweet tarts.
King Maekar, though stern, enjoyed these family gatherings. He watched his children and grandchildren, the future of his dynasty, with a sense of quiet pride. The Dragon Council had ensured a stable succession, and his family was flourishing, its branches spreading across the realm.
"The news from Dragonstone is good," Queen Rhaenys announced, her voice carrying clearly. "Another wild dragon has hatched. A fine, scaly beast, they say, already growing quickly."
"That makes twenty-one, then," Rhaegar commented, a thoughtful smile on his face. "The skies of Dragonstone will soon be as crowded as the city streets."
Baelor chuckled. "Good. We need more dragons. A king can never have too many dragons."
Prince Aelor, Lord of Dragonstone, added, "Indeed. Our wild population thrives. It is a testament to the strength of our line."
Elia Martell, ever the diplomat, offered, "It is a blessing, Your Grace. A sign of the dynasty's strength. And a comfort to the realm, knowing such power protects them."
Cersei Lannister, however, offered a more pragmatic view. "Wild dragons are well and good, but it's the ridden ones that truly matter. Ten adult riders, that's a formidable force."
Robert Baratheon, ever direct, boomed, "Aye! Let them all hatch! More dragons, more glory! And more beasts to hunt wild boars with!"
Prince Aerion, Lord of the Stepstones, nodded. "They certainly keep the pirates in line. A dragon's shadow is a powerful deterrent in the Narrow Sea."
As the meal progressed, the conversation naturally turned to the upcoming event that dominated the realm's attention.
"The tourney at Dragonhold," King Maekar stated, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "It is fast approaching. Three moons, now. Have all the preparations been made?"
"Indeed, Your Grace," Rhaegar confirmed. "The College has been abuzz with activity. The lists are being prepared, the pavilions erected, and the guest quarters made ready. It will be a grand affair."
"Grand is an understatement, Father," Princess Rhaelle added, her eyes bright with excitement. "Every Lord Paramount is confirmed to attend. And with the railway lines, they'll be arriving in record time. Lord Tyrell from Highgarden, Lord Lannister from Casterly Rock, Lord Arryn from the Eyrie... it's a testament to the realm's unity."
"And the Asgardians," Baelor grunted. "They'll be coming in force, I imagine. Brandon Stark and his inventions."
"They will," Maekar confirmed. "King Rickard Stark has sent word. Prince Brandon Stark and his family will be attending. And many of their Northern lords. It will be a true gathering of all the kingdoms."
Prince Aelor spoke up. "We on Dragonstone are preparing for the journey ourselves. The railway will make it a swift trip, a matter of days rather than weeks by sea."
"And from the Stepstones," Prince Aerion added, "we will take the fastest ships to King's Landing, then join the railway. It will be a welcome change from the usual sea voyage."
"It will be the biggest tourney Westeros has seen in generations," Rhaegar mused, his gaze distant. "A true spectacle of peace. A demonstration of the Crown's strength, and the alliances that bind us."
"And a chance to show that peace still prevails between our kingdoms," Elia Martell added, her voice soft but firm. "That the bonds forged in the past have held, and grown stronger."
Cersei Lannister, ever practical, offered, "It will also be an opportunity to gauge the loyalty of certain houses. To see who comes, and who sends excuses."
"True enough, Cersei," Maekar acknowledged, a hint of his sternness returning. "But primarily, it is a celebration. A celebration of a unified realm, of a stable dynasty, and of the progress we have achieved."
"I hear the students at Dragonhold are quite eager to participate," Princess Rhaelle said, smiling. "They've been training fiercely in the lists, hoping to impress their future King and Queen."
"Good," Maekar said, a rare, approving smile touching his lips. "That is precisely the spirit we wish to foster. Skill, discipline, and loyalty to the Crown. Dragonhold has served its purpose well."
The conversation continued, filled with anticipation for the grand tourney. It was more than just a series of jousts and melees; it was a symbol. A symbol of a golden age, of a realm transformed, of a dynasty secure on its throne, protected by dragons and strengthened by alliances. The world had indeed changed, and the Targaryens, with their vast family and their mighty dragons, stood at its unassailable peak.