At this moment, Lannal sat gracefully on a chair, chatting with Rhaenyra and the silver-haired girl beside Lannino.
Her expression was gentle, her voice soft, and every movement exuded the poised demeanor of a noble lady.
She embodied the intellectual beauty of a mature woman to perfection.
"Celine, you and Lannino just got married not long ago. Traveling together could be a great experience," Lannal suggested with an expectant gaze and a warm smile. "I have many friends in Pentos—you two could visit and enjoy your time there."
Celine, the silver-haired girl at the Targaryen family banquet, was her full name: Celine Celtigar.
She was the only daughter of Lord Artymos Celtigar of Crab Isle.
At the end of the year 120 AC, she married Lannino, who had long remained unmarried.
It was another political marriage meant to strengthen ties between House Celtigar and House Velaryon.
Celine was petite and could be considered beautiful. She had a few freckles on her cheeks, which only added to her delicate and endearing charm.
Hearing Lannal's suggestion, Celine hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her knife and fork. Her smile was strained. "I'll discuss it with Lannino."
With that, she turned to her husband and softly asked, "What do you think, Lannino?"
Lannino hadn't been paying attention to the conversation between the women at all. He was too busy drinking with Aegon, arms draped over each other's shoulders.
Only when Celine tugged at his sleeve did he turn his head, flashing what he thought was a doting smile. "Sure, whatever you want."
That was the extent of his response to his wife before he turned back to Aegon, continuing to drink with his arm slung around his friend.
To him, showing Celine respect in public was fulfilling his duty as a husband.
After all, what could be more important than drinking with his brothers?
His blatant indifference made Celine press her lips together. She let go of his sleeve without another word.
After a brief pause, she forced a slightly embarrassed smile toward Lannal and Rhaenyra.
Lannal's expression immediately turned cold, but she quickly composed herself and moved to sit beside Celine.
Gently wrapping an arm around Celine's shoulder, she comforted her, "Men are like this. Everything will get better."
She knew her younger brother Lannino all too well—he wasn't indifferent to his wife; he simply had no real concept of what being a husband meant.
Rhaenyra, watching the scene unfold, felt sympathy for this newly acquainted sister-in-law, her previously cheerful smile fading.
Lannino's preferences were no secret.
He would rather walk the dry path of men than touch a woman's hand.
Celine leaned into Lannal's embrace, closing her eyes in quiet despair. She murmured, barely audible, "I'm still a virgin."
"Don't worry. Men are like wandering cats; they always want to try a different flavor eventually."
Lannal stroked Celine's hair affectionately and spoke bluntly, "You're only sixteen—you have plenty of time to wait. Rhaenyra and I didn't lose our virginity until we were past twenty."
"Lannal!!"
Rhaenyra's eyes widened, her voice raising slightly.
This kind of thing should be discussed privately—not at a banquet!
Lannal turned to her with a composed expression. "Did I say something wrong?"
Rhaenyra: …
She scooted back to her seat, deciding she didn't want to continue this conversation with her friend.
She wasn't even married yet—she couldn't compare to Lannal, a woman who had already given birth.
Lannal, however, didn't mind at all. She continued to hold Celine, offering her advice.
Having been married to Daemon for years, she had seen everything there was to see.
This was nothing.
"Heh."
Daemon, who had been eavesdropping, chuckled involuntarily.
This was precisely why he loved Lannal—her bold and unrestrained personality.
She was, without a doubt, the wife he had chosen well.
Hearing his laughter, Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and returned to her seat beside Rhaegar.
Ever since Daemon had come back to Driftmark, she had visited Lannal only once.
Just that one time, she had happened to walk in on Lannal and Daemon working up a sweat on the balcony.
At the time, her aunt Rhaenys had been with her. The atmosphere had turned unbearably awkward.
Since then, whenever she wanted to meet Lannal, she would send a raven or an invitation instead.
Rhaegar teased, "Back so soon? Not going to chat a little longer?"
His keen senses had caught every word of their conversation.
"Don't ask for trouble, Rhaegar." Rhaenyra gritted her teeth in warning.
She might not be able to handle Lannal, but she could certainly handle her younger brother.
"Alright, alright, you're the queen—you're the boss."
Rhaegar raised his hands in mock surrender, amused by her reaction.
Rhaenyra huffed and scooped some food onto his plate.
"Look over there, Rhaenyra."
Rhaegar suddenly leaned in, tilting her chin with his finger, directing her gaze across the banquet table.
Rhaenyra shrank back slightly, startled as she turned her head.
What she saw was Aegon and Lannino, laughing and drinking heartily together.
She examined them for a moment before frowning. "What am I looking at?"
"Look lower," Rhaegar whispered conspiratorially.
Following his hint, Rhaenyra lowered her gaze.
Aegon and Lannino's shoulders were pressed together as they drank, arms wrapped around each other.
But then—
Rhaenyra's eyes widened, and she grabbed Rhaegar's arm, her mouth slightly agape in shock.
Lannino's hand was resting on Aegon's rear.
Meanwhile, Aegon's hand was wandering over Lannino's waist, his face lit up with an endless grin.
Seeing this, Rhaenyra quickly turned her head away, flustered. "They…"
She wanted to ask when Aegon and Lannino had gotten together.
But in front of Rhaegar, she was too embarrassed to say it outright.
Rhaegar smirked and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Three years ago."
After Weimond's funeral, he took some time to inspect the garrison at the Stepstones.
As he landed with his dragon, he happened to witness two people rolling on the grass atop Bloodstone Island.
The Glutton's wings stirred up a fierce wind, blowing away their clothes—
—and sending their bare bodies tumbling across the ground.
The scene at that moment? Unforgettable.
Whenever he recalled it, Rhaegar couldn't help but laugh, even as guilt gnawed at him.
Rhaenyra stole a glance at him and murmured under her breath, "That long, huh?"
"They've been stationed at the Stepstones for years without any women around. Naturally, they ended up together."
Rhaegar shared the secret without hesitation.
Aegon was promiscuous and not picky about his partners.
Over time, Lannino lured him into the grass.
Rhaenyra covered her mouth, giggling like a girl sneaking a taste of something sweet.
Such affairs between men were hardly scandalous among the nobility.
She simply enjoyed the spectacle.
At that moment, the twin girls, Baenira and Rhaenia, jumped down from their chairs, hand in hand, and ran to Laenor's side.
They had left Driftmark as soon as they turned one, living with Rhaenyra in King's Landing or Dragonstone.
Though their bond with their birth mother, Laenor, wasn't deep, they still missed her.
Baenira, the more outgoing of the two, hugged Laenor's leg and looked up.
"Mother, are you having another baby?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but its clarity cut through the lively chatter at the table.
Everyone fell silent, turning their attention to Laenor.
Laenor's expression froze. She stroked her daughter's soft silver hair, momentarily at a loss for words.
Rhaenia clung to her other leg, her small face pressing against the fabric of her dress as she mumbled, "Mother, Father said you'd give us a little brother."
At that, Laenor's gaze locked onto her husband—who looked entirely innocent.
She had told him to keep it secret, to avoid giving the girls and Syrene unnecessary thoughts.
Daemon merely shrugged. "They have a right to know."
Laenor was annoyed but couldn't show it. She pulled her daughters close, as if explaining to everyone at once.
"I'm with child. The maester says it's been nearly two months."
A soft smile spread across her lips, radiating maternal warmth.
"Congratulations, Laenor."
Rhaenyra shot up from her chair, delight shining in her eyes as she walked over.
As her only remaining close friend, she was genuinely happy.
The others at the table also reacted with smiles and well-wishes.
Most enthusiastic of all was Viserys.
He clapped his hands and laughed heartily. "Wonderful! Another dragonborn joins our house!"
As Daemon's wife, Laenor's children bore the Targaryen name.
For a bloodline as fragile as House Targaryen's, this was among the best news possible.
"Thank you, brother."
Daemon chuckled, standing despite Laenor's disapproving glare. He raised his goblet, scanning the table.
With a roguish smirk, he declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm having another child—a new heir of House Targaryen!"
"Well said! Congratulations, Prince Daemon."
Otto Hightower was the first to respond, clapping warmly.
As the father of the queen and grandfather to her heirs, he was skilled at playing the social game.
Viserys, even more pleased, lifted his cup and drank deeply—so hastily that wine dribbled down his chin, staining his robes.
Rhaegar applauded along with the others, his gaze sweeping across the table.
Apart from his father and Rhaenyra, whose smiles were genuine,
Otto, Alicent, and his younger brothers merely feigned enthusiasm.
Helaena was entirely detached, absorbed in playing with a black grape and a green one.
Lannino and his wife, along with Laenor, wore stiff smiles—far from heartfelt joy.
Then there was Aunt Rhaenys, her face dark, lips sealed.
Rhaegar frowned slightly, sensing something amiss.
Then, out of nowhere, Aegon spoke up.
"So, cousin, when are you and your wife having a child?"
"Aegon!"
Lannino's face darkened as he nudged Aegon sharply.
But Aegon was relentless, smirking.
"You'd better get to it. Lord Corlys has been waiting for a grandson to inherit Driftmark."
Daemon's grin turned wicked as he added, "That's right. Give House Velaryon a true son of the sea."
Lannino's face flushed crimson as he set down his goblet.
"I've only been married a year," he said in a low voice. "It'll happen."
"Well said. A bold declaration."
Aegon hopped onto the table, his gaze laced with mockery.
Though he and Lannino shared a certain… history, it was merely a passing indulgence.
He held no love for House Velaryon.
Daemon leaned back in his chair, watching the drama unfold with amusement.
Lannino's chest heaved. He was on the verge of saying something sharp—
"Laenor," Syrene interrupted, redirecting the attention. "Sit with your wife."
She sat with her head lowered, fingers twisting together, eyes red-rimmed.
It wasn't that she didn't want a child.
Her husband simply never gave her the chance.
(End of chapter)