105 AC - King's Landing - Third Person POV
A moon after Viserys's letter, a sleek ship from Bloodstone docked at King's Landing's harbor, its black sails emblazoned with a silver gryphon—the sigil Domonic had chosen. Domonic Augustus and Daenerys Targaryen stepped ashore, their presence commanding. Domonic, in a tailored black doublet with gold trim, Ace sheathed at his hip, exuded quiet authority. Daenerys, her silver hair braided, wore a black-and-red gown, her Valyrian beauty drawing whispers from the smallfolk. Princess Rhaenyra, sent to escort them, rode forward on a white palfrey, her violet gown regal, her expression formal.
"King Domonic, Lady Daenerys," Rhaenyra said, her voice clear, her eyes carefully neutral. "Welcome to King's Landing. I am Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne."
Domonic bowed, his voice smooth, matching her pretense. "Princess, an honor. I am Domonic Augustus, King of the Stepstones, and this is my wife, Daenerys Augustus."
Daenerys curtsied, her smile polite. "Princess, we thank you for your welcome. The capital is as grand as tales claim."
Rhaenyra nodded, her tone crisp. "My father, King Viserys, awaits at the Red Keep. Follow me."
The procession wound through the city, goldcloaks lining the streets, smallfolk craning for a glimpse of the Stepstones' king. At the Red Keep's gates, Viserys stood his crimson cloak rich with black dragons. Beside him were the small council: Ser Otto Hightower, Grand Maester Runciter, Lord Lyman Beesbury, Lord Lyonel Strong, Lord Corlys Velaryon, and Ser Ryam Redwyne. Servants held bread and salt, the guest right a solemn ritual.
Otto Hightower stepped forward, his voice warm. "King Domonic Augustus, Queen Daenerys Augustus, welcome to the Red Keep. This is King Viserys Targaryen, first of my name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men."
Domonic bowed, his voice steady. "Your invitation speaks of friendship, and we come to strengthen it. My wife, Daenerys, shares my gratitude."
Daenerys's voice was melodic, her smile gracious. "Your Grace, your hospitality humbles us. We look forward to knowing your court."
Viserys gestured to his council, his voice proud. "My advisors, lords of the realm. Ser Otto Hightower, Hand of the King."
Otto bowed, his green doublet pristine, his voice measured. "Your Graces, welcome. May your visit bring prosperity."
"Grand Maester Runciter," Viserys continued.
Runciter, his chain clinking, inclined his head, his voice cautious. "A pleasure, King Domonic, Queen Daenerys. The Citadel extends its regards."
"Lord Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin."
Beesbury's voice quavered, his bow stiff. "Welcome, Your Graces. May trade flourish between us."
"Lord Lyonel Strong, Master of Laws."
Strong's voice was steady, his broad frame imposing. "An honor, King Domonic, Queen Daenerys. Your tales of the Stepstones intrigue us."
"Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Ships."
Corlys grinned, his sea-green robes shimmering, his voice warm. "King Domonic, Queen Daenerys, a joy to see you again. Our alliance thrives."
"Ser Ryam Redwyne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
Redwyne, his white cloak stark, bowed, his voice gruff. "Your Graces, the Kingsguard ensures your safety."
Domonic nodded, his voice calm. "Lords, ser, maester—your welcome is generous. We hope to repay it with friendship."
A servant offered bread and salt. Domonic and Daenerys partook, Domonic's voice solemn. "We accept your guest right, King Viserys, and pledge peace under your roof."
Viserys smiled, his voice hearty. "Well said. Princess Rhaenyra will show you to your chambers to rest. Tonight, we feast in your honor in the Great Hall."
Rhaenyra curtsied, her voice formal. "This way, Your Graces."
The gates swung open, and the party entered the Red Keep, its corridors echoing with history. Rhaenyra led Domonic and Daenerys to a lavish suite in Maegor's Holdfast, its windows overlooking Blackwater Bay. "Your chambers," she said, her tone neutral. "Servants will attend you. I'll fetch you for the feast."
Domonic bowed, his voice polite. "Thank you, Princess."
As Rhaenyra departed, Domonic closed the door, his Muffiato spell ensuring privacy. He turned to Daenerys, his voice low. "She's good at this—pretending we're strangers."
Daenerys laughed, her voice soft, unpinning her hair. "Rhaenyra's a dragon, love. She's learning the game. Viserys seems eager, but Otto and Runciter… they're wary."
Domonic nodded, his tone thoughtful. "Otto's ambitious, Runciter's bound by Citadel dogma. We'll charm Viserys, keep the others guessing. Tonight's feast is our stage."
Daenerys's eyes sparkled, her voice teasing. "Planning to show off, are you? A spell or two?"
Domonic grinned, his Elder Wand in hand. "If they ask. Let's keep them curious, not scared."
They refreshed, Domonic trading his doublet for a black robe with silver gryphon embroidery, Daenerys donning a flowing red gown. A knock sounded, and Domonic called, "Enter."
Rhaenyra slipped inside, alone, her formal mask dropping, her voice warm. "Dom, Dany! It's good to see you without pretending."
Daenerys hugged her, her voice bright. "You played your part well, Princess. How's the court treating you?"
Rhaenyra's smile was wry, her voice soft. "Like a prize or a threat, depending on the lord. Father's kind, but Otto watches me like a hawk. I'm thrilled that you're here."
Daenerys's voice was gentle. "You're brave, balancing both worlds. We're proud of you."
Rhaenyra blushed, her voice urgent. "We should go—the lords await. Father's eager to meet you properly."
Domonic nodded, his voice calm. "Lead on, Princess."
---
The Great Hall of the Red Keep glowed with splendor, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow, its tables laden with roasted boar, honeyed quails, and Arbor gold. Banners of House Targaryen—black dragons on red—hung beside gryphon sigils for the guests. Lords and ladies filled the hall, their silks and velvets a riot of color, musicians playing lutes and harps. Viserys sat at the high table, Rhaenyra beside him, the small council arrayed nearby.
As Domonic and Daenerys entered, a herald's voice rang out. "King Domonic Augustus and Queen Daenerys Augustus of the Stepstones!"
The hall hushed, eyes turning. Viserys rose, his voice booming. "King Domonic, Queen Daenerys, welcome to our feast! As guests of honor, take the seats at the center."
Domonic bowed, his voice clear. "King Viserys, your hospitality humbles us."
Daenerys's smile was radiant, her voice melodic. "We thank you, King Viserys, for this grand welcome."
They took their seats, Viserys beside Domonic, Rhaenyra beside Daenerys. Otto, Runciter, and the council watched, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution. Servants poured wine, and the feast began, the hall buzzing with chatter.
Viserys turned to Domonic, his voice warm. "King Domonic, your journey was smooth, I hope? The Narrow Sea can be treacherous."
Domonic's voice was easy, his smile polite. "Smooth enough, Your Grace. Our ship's sturdy, and the Stepstones' waters are calm now."
Daenerys leaned toward Rhaenyra, her voice soft. "Princess, this hall's magnificent. Do you dine here often?"
Rhaenyra's voice was light, her pretense flawless. "When Father hosts, Queen Daenerys. It's grander tonight for you."
Corlys, across the table, raised his goblet, his voice hearty. "To our guests! King Domonic, your rule transforms the Stepstones. Our alliance prospers."
Domonic nodded, his voice warm. "Thank you, Lord Velaryon, for your wishes. To our partnership."
Glasses clinked, the mood easing. Viserys's voice grew eager, his eyes bright. "King Domonic, Lord Corlys spoke of… wonders at your castle. Doors opening without hands, islands green where stone stood. Is it true—can you wield magic, as the tales say?"
The hall quieted, lords leaning forward, Otto's gaze sharp, Runciter's hand pausing mid-sip. Domonic smiled, his voice calm. "Yes, Your Grace. Magic is real, and I command it."
Viserys's voice was a whisper, his excitement childlike. "Can you show us. A little glimpse of this power."
Domonic drew his Elder Wand, its wood gleaming, his voice steady. "As you wish." He raised it, intoning, "*Expecto Patronum!*"
A burst of white light erupted, coalescing into a gryphon, its wings shimmering, soaring through the hall. Gasps filled the air, ladies clutching pearls, lords standing. The Kingsguard—Ser Ryam and Ser Clement Crabb—drew swords, their voices tense. "Protect the king!"
Domonic's voice was firm, his wand steady. "It won't harm you. It's a guardian, born of light."
Viserys raised a hand, his voice commanding. "Stand down, sers! This is no threat."
The Kingsguard sheathed their blades, their eyes wary. The gryphon circled, its presence radiating warmth, easing fears. Laughter bubbled up, smallfolk servants smiling, lords relaxing. Lady Alicent Hightower, Otto's daughter, clapped, her voice awed. "It's beautiful!"
Viserys's smile was broad, his voice wondrous. "What is this magic, King Domonic? This… creature brings joy to my heart."
Domonic lowered his wand, the gryphon fading, his voice clear. "It's a Patronus, Your Grace—a spell to summon a protector, born of hope. It drives away fear, lifts spirits. In my lands, it's a symbol of peace."
Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled, her voice soft, masking her familiarity. "A marvel, King Domonic. Does it guard your castle?"
Daenerys's voice was warm, her smile teasing. "It does, Princess, among other wonders."
Viserys's voice was grateful, his eyes shining. "Thank you, King Domonic, for sharing this. It's as if Old Valyria lives again. To magic, and friendship!"
The hall cheered, goblets raised. Otto's smile was tight, his voice low to Runciter. "A pretty trick, but dangerous." Runciter nodded, his eyes dark.
The feast resumed, small talk flowing—trade routes, Dornish wines, the tourney's mystery knight. Domonic and Daenerys charmed, their answers deft, revealing little. Rhaenyra played her role, her laughter bright, her secret safe. As sweets—lemon cakes and honeyed figs—were served, Viserys rose, his voice warm. "To our guests, may our bonds grow strong!"
The hall roared, the night sealing a fragile trust. As the feast ended, Domonic and Daenerys retired to their suite, escorted by Rhaenyra.