Chapter Text
Storm's End was a ragged castle built to endure the harshest of storms. It was obvious by the name yet the castle had an eerie tone to it. It was not like other castles, it was different. Rhaenyra herself appreciated the castle, for its stone works and ease to accomodate guests.
She gallavanted around the kingdoms in search for a suitor to match her wits, her strengths and mainly her crown. All the suitors presented before her were deemed unworthy as most of them were lords vying for a dragon, others children, sent by their liege lords to suit the princess' needs.
Storm's End was no different. The same men, in different bodies.
Except Krylon.
Men threw themselves infront of the princess, hoping for her dragons and the crown, that she will inherit one day. But Krylon Tyrell was different in that regard.
He presented himself with grace and patience, something the other men seemed to lack. He traced his steps as he walked to face the princess.
Krylon bent in presence of the princess and started to talk whilst pacing back and forth with confidence.
"They say a man should come to court with victories to boast of, lands to bargain with, or poems to flatter a lady. I have none of those things, Princess. Only myself—and perhaps a poor jest or two."
Rhaenyra arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching before the man.
"Bold of you to admit such faults before a princess."
Krylon leaned in slightly, entertaining her attention.
"If honesty is a fault, may the Seven strike me down. I would rather you laugh at me than remember me as another dull lord droning of his wealth. I am neither dull… nor easily forgotten."
Rhaenyra hid a smile, testing him.
"And what makes you so unforgettable, Ser Krylon?"
Krylon paused, with a warm smile, he continued.
"Because I will look at you as Rhaenyra, not as some prize to be won. A woman deserves that much, does she not?"
Rhaenyra was silent for a moment, caught off guard.
"Careful, Ser. Charm can be a dangerous sword."
Krylon bowed his head slightly, his gaze never leaving the princess.
"Then may I wield it only in your service, Princess."
After all the formalities of the tour, Rhaenyra found herself amused at Ser Krylon. Other knights bragged about their riches and gold whereas Ser Krylon enchanted her.
She stepped outside the gates of the castle and turned towards Ser Criston.
"We shall end this tour immediately, Ser Criston. It seems that I've found my match."
Criston's eyebrows arched in confusion.
"And who may that be, princess?"
"Ser Krylon Tyrell." Rhaenyra sighed with relief.
The hard part of the tour was over. She could go back to King's Landing and tell her father of her opinion. Surely, he would be overjoyed. It was not like he had begged Rhaenyra to marry for 3 years now. Besides, Ser Krylon did not challenge her claim in any way. He was the second son of house Tyrell and he could stay at the Red Keep, without any concerns for his house back at Highgarden.
It was not like Ser Krylon was impossible to look at. She had previously heard of his fame at Highgarden, winning tourneys and being an excellent wielder of a warhammer. It was unusual, yet he seemed to be quite good at it.
He looked like the bachelor every lady in the seven kingdoms would fawn over. His auburn brown layered hair falling over his shoulder like waves at high tide. His ocean blue eyes shone with a glimmer of arrogance and confidence. He was not a big man, yet his physique complimented his features by a large margin. Rhaenyra found herself admiring each feature as if she memorised each of it with careful attention to detail.