CRISIS OF MY FAITH / CHAPTER TWO.

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Meliana thought the birth of the Realm's heir should not be celebrated with people cheering for brute, pointless violence. But a woman's opinion had never been of much value to the men of Westeros.

The Heir's Tournament was probably the second most anticipated event of the year, besides the birth of the heir itself. The entire kingdom was preparing for the joy of welcoming another Targaryen in the world-sometimes the girl thought it was weird how invested the smallfolk were when it came to the royal family and the nobles. It was strange showing so much love to the same people who would oppress the commoners and see them as nothing but an inconvienence. Nevertheless, it was clear that the tournament was of big importance for the crown. Noble families from all around the kingdom sat in the reserved seats as the spectators talked amongst themselves, already placing bets.

Just the day before, Meliana had heard from the kitchen staff that there had been a massacre in King's Landing. Men of the City Watch, with Daemon Targaryen himself as their leader, were unleashed and attacked those who they believed deserving of their wrath. They called them criminals; from the most heinous crimes like rape and murder to simple thievery. The Gold Cloaks castrated, murdered in cold blood and cut their hands off-in the end, it all came down to the tournament. The Crown did not want their nobles to see the filth of King's Landing and their own failure to subdue it as they were supposed to.

During the tournament, everyone acted like nothing had happened later that night.

Under different circumstances, Meliana would have never attended the tournament. She had watched jousting before and she had concluded that pointless violence only tended to men's fragile egos. She had no interest in participating in the spectating of that and yet, there she was, hiding herself behind a green scarf that she wrapped her untamed curly hair with and sneaking amongst the crowd to get a good enough seat. Her half-brother would be competing and her curiousity had gotten the best of her. She had not seen him in a while, to the point where she barely remembered his face and she was interested to see how fighting against the Dornish had molded his fighting skills.

When King Viserys stood up, she knew the tournament had started. "Be welcome!" the man announced as the cheering got loud enough to take over any other possible sound. "I know many of you have travelled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise, you will not be disappointed."

Meliana's eyes drifted to the seats around the King's. She recognized the Sea Snake and his family; Corlys Velaryon, Rhaenys Targaryen and their children, Laena and Laenor Velaryon. She had had the honour of meeting them a few years ago and they looked as elegant and unbothered as they had been back then. Next to the King sat the Hand, Otto Hightower. His reptile-like eyes were scanning the knights, as if he was trying to calculate each person's chances. And then there was his daughter, Alicent, sitting in front of him, next to an empty seat that belonged to the princess. She was not there.

Meliana's stomach dropped with worry as she thought that she was one of the last people who saw the princess. Before she could panic more, she noticed Rhaenyra's silver head making her way to the seat as her father continued addressing the crowd. "When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news... that I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labors!" Everyone started cheering excitedly. Even Meliana, who was already aware of the big secret, clapped politely. "May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!"

The first joust immediately commenced and Meliana didn't take too long to notice the man carrying the shield with the sigil of her house. Ten black pellets, symbolizing coal, against a scarlet field-a childlike, naive wave of nostalgia and pride washed over her as she saw House Cole being represented. Her half-brother's face was covered by his helmet, whose quality was almost as bad as the rest of his armor's. Unlike his opponent, his armor was not distinctively decorated; a gentle reminder of House Cole's general inferiority. They were nothing but a minor house of lowborns in service of House Dondarrion. Besides, that was why her father had insisted Meliana got sent to the Red Keep-he believed she deserved better.

Meliana felt like she had been holding her breath whenever it was Criston's turn. He unhorsed the first knight, a representative of House Tarly, with impressive ease and the man was picked up quickly as Criston bowed before the royal family. His next two successes were against two seperate Baratheons, or so Meliana heard from the family that sat next to her as they frantically whispered gossip about the noble family. Even with the favor of Rhaenys Targaryen, the last man was unhorsed equally as easy as the first.

It was only when Daemon Targaryen rode into the arena that Meliana got worried about her half-brother. Considering what had happened the last night, it was fair of her to stare at the imposing prince and assume his thirst for blood had not entirely quenched. A violent man like him did not have any regards for rules or for maintaining order. Instead, he thrived in chaos. Her opinion on him was only confirmed when he chose to joust against ser Gwayne Hightower, the eldest son of the Hand. When he managed to trip Gwayne's horse with his lance and throw him down, face covered in dirt and blood, Meliana's eyes immediately focused on Alicent. Even from the distance, it was obvious that the girl's face had paled upon the sight of her brother getting injured that severely. As if that was not enough, Daemon asked for Alicent's favor-it was a bold move and, as someone with some slight insight on the royal family, Meliana believed it was quite telling of Daemon's personality.

What followed was what could only be described as chaotic, pointless violence and no one could do anything but watch as knights started killing each other in the middle of the tournament. Meliana was not fond of violence, but she was unable to tear her eyes off the sight of a knight pushing his axe inside the head of his competitor. She watched a small river of blood making its way to the middle of the arena, heard the screams of agony and the cheering of the spectators and she felt sick. How was that a good way to celebrate birth, the beginning of a life and how was the crowd finding a twisted sense of pleasure from watching blood shed? What was more immoral; committing the act or enjoying watching it?

As men carried the last dead body of the arena, she thought that perhaps killing each other was the start and the end of it all.

Meliana's mind was blank the moment the commentator spoke. "Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City!" Her palms turned sweaty as she watched the two men and their horses getting ready. She had hoped that her half-brother would not tilt against the King's brother, knowing that as good as Criston was, the Prince was probably the most ruthless out of the competitors.

A weak moment for Meliana, but she caught herself praying. Please, she begged the gods. I do not want to lose more family than I have already lost.

The joust was not too long; many broken lances and both men were still standing, until Criston finally found a weak spot. As much as Meliana didn't like violence, she was the one that cheered the loudest when Daemon Targaryen was finally thrown to the ground. "Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a contest of arms!" yelled the Master of Revels, but at that point Meliana was too confident to feel nervous about it.

Criston used a morningstar, while Daemon Targaryen whielded his sword. Dark Sister was its name-Meliana wondered why men felt attached enough to a weapon as deadly as a sword to feel the need to give it a name, to make it feel human. The combat was intense and the girl held her breath as she watched them go against each other; they kicked and pushed, broke each other's shields and they sliced through each other's armour until her brother was the first to fall on the ground. The blonde prince roared, gloating to the spectators and Meliana thought it was the end of it, until Criston rose and swang his morningstar at Daemon's head, knocking him to the ground.

Meliana clapped so hard that her palms hurt and in spite of herself, a grin crept across her beautiful features. In a moment of weakness, she thought that their father should be there, taking pride in his only son, cheering with her. She had always wished that their family could be a normal one; perhaps in another life she would grow up with her father and brother without the hatred of her stepmother following her around in every step she took. Perhaps in another life she could be more than a bastard and more than a handmaid. Perhaps... perhaps... perhaps... the gods would someday listen.

"Criston!"

Meliana had been running for a few minutes until she caught up to him. She was rather lucky he had not abandoned any hope of searching for her and left. She was holding the ends of her dress so she would not trip all over it and her scarf, previously wrapped around her face, was now resting around her shoulders like a shawl. Her half-brother turned his head and smiled kindly at her, though she had the feeling it was the same smile he used when he talked to any stranger.

Not having seen him in a while, she immediately drew comparisons to her last image of him. His dark hair was longer now and his skin was more tanned, but still much lighter than hers-she had taken after her poor mother. Even though Meliana had certainly grown taller, Criston was still at least two and a half heads taller than her. He looked just as intimidating as he had always looked, while the armor certainly did not make things easier.

While Meliana was approaching him, all she could think about whether she should hug him or not. They were never that close, but then again, they had not seen each other in years. A hug felt right, but she was too much of a coward to do it, so instead she just smiled at him. "Hello, brother," she said. In spite of her predictions, Criston wrapped his arms around her and even though all she felt was the cold metal of a beat-up armor, she had never felt so warm before.

"Hello, kid," he said as he pulled away, the awkward sound of the metal rubbing together piercing their ears. Like always, he seemed uncertain on what he should say. Criston never really knew how to communicate with her; there could be many reasons, but she had settled on their age difference. "You've grown a lot in three years."

"You were really good out there," Meliana blurted out.

For a second he seemed surprise. "You saw me?"

"Of course," she smiled shyly. His nose was bloody and his lips were busted from the combat. "Are you feeling well? You look..."

"It's just blood," he waved her off. "Nothing I have not experienced before."

"If you're sure..." There was a moment of silence, where it was quite obvious that both of them were trying to figure out the right way to mention their father. Someone had to break the ice and Criston seemed far too gone to say the right thing. Meliana bit the inside of her cheek and for a split second, she thought she tasted blood. There were so many things she wanted to say and almost did. I'm sorry about father. I know you never got to experience the soft side of him like I did. I know a part of you hates me for that. I know your mother hated me too and I know some part of you still does not like me and I'm sorry that I was born and I'm sorry I left you taking care of him and I'm sorry you were there. It should have been me. I should have been there for him. I'm sorry.

"In the letter, you said you wanted to talk about father's will..." she finally said.

"Oh, right," he said. Criston looked around at all the people leaving the arena. "Perhaps we should go somewhere more private to talk about that." His eyes met hers and she immediately knew what he meant. No one knew about her being a bastard-no one but her immediate family, no one but the rest of her father's sons and his wife, who was now buried next to him.

They walked in silence until they reached a desolate spot. Criston took a piece of paper out of his sheath-folded well enough that it was barely crumbled despite everything. "Father's inheritance was split between his... legitimate children," he said, unable to meet her eyes. "As far as I am aware, he believed that you serving as a handmaid to the princess meant that you would not need any further financial help. It has nothing to do with-"

"With the fact that I am a bastard?" Meliana cut him off. She had not realised it before, but her palms had turned to fists.

Criston sighed. "You know very well that father treated you better than he ever treated me and my brothers," he said, his forehead creasing and revealing his age. "My mother, she... she used to say that all he ever wanted was a daughter. You had all of him while he was alive and now the rest of us have what remains of him. I believe it to be a fair deal. Besides... are you not settled, working for the Targaryens and all?"

Meliana's jaw unclenched and her features became softer as she realised the truth of his words. "I- I suppose."

"If you need money, all you have to do is tell me," her brother said. "I will send you some."

"I do not," she quickly said. "I do not need your money."

The truth was that she was quite content with her wage, especially considering Rhaenyra's meddling with it. She had only hoped that her father would have thought more about her, instead of simply assuming that he had provided with the best possible future. "Is that all?" she asked, her voice regrettably weak. "Am I to assume that we will meet again in another three years?"

Criston's face fell. "My absence from your life has nothing to do with you."

"You have been busy, I know," she answered. "Father had given up making excuses for the rest of your brothers, but he would always remind me of you fighting in the border conflicts. It is probably because he knew you were the only one that bothered to write to me once in a while. I am sure Colin and Derrick have already written me off as their sister now that there is no one to remind them of my existence."

Her half-brother clearly did not know how to reply to that. It was true that no one in the Cole family had accepted her like their father had. To Myreene Cole, Meliana was the harsh reminder of her husband's infidelity. To her brothers, she was the reminder that their father never loved them as much as he loved her. She liked to think she would have behaved differently, were she in their position, but at the back of her mind she knew that this was false.

"There is something else," Criston's voice interrupted her thoughts. When she focused her eyes again, she saw him holding a pendant and two halves of a chain of a necklace in his hand, though they were all seperated from each other. The charm was a light blue seven-pointed sun that looked as if it was made from an expensive material. "Father gave me this. He made it very clear that it was for you."

"Do you not think that it would suit you?"

"I think blue would look much better on your complexion than mine. I would prefer a red one," he joked back with a smile that looked genuine for the first time.

"It is broken," Meliana muttered as she took hold of the three seperated items that should have been together.

"It was the way it was given to me. From his ramblings, I concluded that this belonged to... your mother. Father obviously wanted you to have this," he said. As if he read her mind, he quickly added. "It must have meant something to her, maybe to him as well... and he was hoping that it would grow to mean something to you too."

Meliana smiled at herself. It is better than nothing, she thought as she slipped them in the pocket of her dress.

Aemma Targaryen and her newborn, Baelon Targaryen were dead and it was all anyone talked about for the rest of the day. Meliana did not blame them-the news shocked her and landed her back to reality after her conversation with Criston. She had never witnessed the Red Keep in such a somber atmosphere, it looked as if every ounce of life had been sucked out of the place. The servants did not dare to speak or look at the royals in the face and no one knew how to react to the death of their beloved Queen. Meliana did not hold most royals in a high regard, but Queen Aemma had indeed been a wonderful woman, full of life and kindness that she spread to everyone, even to the staff. And her newborn babe, the son who would have been the heir of the empire, had not even managed to spend a full day in the world.

Meliana did not think of herself as very sentimental, but it felt as if the world was finally keeping up with her own grief, so if she shed a few tears, no one ever commented on it.

She entered the princess' room with a hesitance that reminded her of her first year in the job. It was eerily quiet and if there was one thing about Rhaenyra Targaryen was that she was never quiet. It was dark outside, dark enough for the room's only source of light to come from a few candles next to the princess' bed. Once her eyes got used to the darkness, she noticed the figure of the princess laying in her bed, tightly hugging a pillow. Meliana felt as if she was interrupting and tried to take a step back, but she stepped on something and her shoes made a noise.

"Who is it?" Rhaenyra's weak voice almost scared the servant girl. "Leave me alone. Just... leave."

"It is me, princess," Meliana spoke, cringing with embarrassment for the way she sounded. "I- I came to ask if you needed anything..."

"Nothing that you can bring me," Rhaenyra said as a sob disguised as a sigh escaped her lips. "You, of all people, should know that, Meliana."

"I apologize, your grace," she muttered. "I can leave-"

"No." The princess cleared her throat as she sat up. "Stay. Please?"

Although Meliana did not think there was anything she could help the grieving girl with, her tone was so sad and desperate that she could not bring herself to pretend like she didn't hear her. She walked to the bed and sat at the edge of it, careful not to sit too close to the girl. There were some boundaries that a servant had to keep, no matter the closeness of her relationship with her boss.

Rhaenyra used her palm to wipe off the tears escaping her eyes. "I don't know what... I don't know what to feel first," she confessed. "I just... fuck!" She covered her mouth as she started sobbing once again.

The Targaryens were said to be closer to gods than humans, but this was the first time Meliana looked at the princess and saw nothing but pure humanity. She saw herself. She saw a real person, rather than a title and a duty.

✸ me busting my ass off to make criston cole into a three dimensional, complex character with realistic motivations and not just a pathetic incel just to inevitably see everyone hate him anyways bc the show made him into an incel: 🧍‍♀️ listen... if people can simp over da*mon, then i can simp over him. fabien frankel is 28 so hes the perfect age for me....... anyways.

✸ i would like to hear your thoughts on the story so far or meliana or the dynamics between the characters so far!! pls dont be a ghostreader, i need motivation to heal the hotd brainrot and comments is my only source of motivation-