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Game of Thrones (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. MartinA Song of Ice and Fire & Related FandomsHouse of the Dragon (TV)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil - Carlo Zen (Light Novels)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil (Anime)
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Published:2024-02-24Updated:2026-05-20Words:319,557Chapters:58/?Comments:1,547Kudos:3,725Bookmarks:1,071Hits:221,293
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 42
Notes:
A huge thank you to MARch_Of_Time who not only helped with proofreading but also came up with a ton of nice enhancements to the text!
Chapter Text
Chapter 42
"By considering the possibilities and how they might unfold, one can make necessary preparations. I've had the importance of planning drilled into me at both military academy and war college… -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 13
Despite the ugliness at the end of the joust, Viserys considered the day a grand success. The feast afterward had been a delight. Prince Qoren was eager to assure Viserys that he shared his enthusiasm for peace. He welcomed additional trade, and several marriage arrangements were already in the works with houses in the Reach and even one in the Stormlands.
Viserys had been surprised to learn that Alan Beesbury was marrying Alina Dayne, sister to Artyr Dayne. Ever eager to share good news, Viserys toasted the hall. Old Lyman's grandson quickly became the center of attention as the Essosi representatives flocked to him with their well-wishes.
I wonder if it is some sort of custom in Essos to overly fawn over someone when nuptials are announced. They even pulled up chairs to where he sat at the feast table!
The best was yet to come, as he had extended an invitation to Jason Lannister, who would soon be arriving at his chambers.
"Your Grace, what was it you had need of me for?" his good-son, Laenor, asked with calm and deference.
"A passing amusement. You won't need to do much – just stand here where the light doesn't fully reach you. When I say your name, move forward and answer my query."
"As you wish."
Viserys frowned as he studied the man, a perfect mask of gentle compliance on his good-son's face. "No, that expression won't do. Put on something fiercer."
For but the briefest moment, confusion reflected in eyes of Westeros's most sanguinary young lord. It was soon replaced by a flash of recognition and his expression fell to something markedly more weary.
Was it that exhausting for him to keep up his mask of civility?
"Oh, for the love of the Seven…" Laenor's tone was far from his usual courtly mien of respect. "Viserys, you are the King. You have no need to use me to terrorize your lords." Laenor looked thoroughly aggrieved.
Viserys held up his hands. "'Tis a lark, nothing more. Now come – my daughter is being wed tomorrow. Let a father have his moment in the sun."
Laenor acquiesced and moved to where one of the lanterns had been put out, effectively placing him in the shadows, near completely obscured behind the great diorama of Old Valyria.
Perfect!
Soon enough, Jason Lannister arrived.
"Your Grace, I am honored by your invitation. I've brought wine from the Arbor, from the very year you were crowned, as gift."
"How thoughtful," Viserys agreed. "This is quite illuminating, really. It shows you choose when to be thoughtful and when not to be."
Jason looked hesitant. "Your Grace?"
"Did you think I would forget the disgraceful way you purposefully tried to shame my daughter?" Viserys let his voice rise.
"I thought that was behind us," the Lord of Casterly Rock said smoothly. "I have punished my lax servants for their errors and even helped fund…"
"You think I care for your pittance, Lannister?" Viserys sneered. "Do you count me for a fool? Do you think I am in my dotage and do not understand what games you play? Do you think I do not have loyal lords, knights, and servants who report to me the comings and goings of the Seven Kingdoms?"
Jason now looked suitably alarmed.
"Your Grace, clearly, I have failed to make amends. What would you have of me, your loyal servant?"
Viserys enjoyed seeing the man sweat before him. He leaned in close. "I'd have the truth from you. Why did you seek to shame my daughter?"
Jason twitched. "Your Grace… I am telling you the truth. If I am guilty of anything, it is of not taking Princess Elaena's visit with the seriousness it deserved. I swear by the Seven, that is all."
"Oh, you swear, do you?" Viserys backed away. "Laenor, what say you, do you believe that is the truth?"
Laenor, right on cue, stepped forward into the light. Viserys unexpectedly swallowed when he saw the cast of the Dark Storm's expression.
"You sought to deliberately shame Princess Elaena?" Laenor's voice was almost a hiss, the kind pushed through bared teeth. His entire body tensed as if about to strike, his jaw clenched, and his eyes wide—an admixture of shock and disdain.
Jason Lannister stumbled backward and then looked at the King beseechingly.
"Gods be good, I beg you, Your Grace, please, I admit I wanted her humbled as petty vengeance against Rhaenyra for rejecting my betrothal offer. That was all – a game of low stakes, that is all. Please, Viserys the Merciful, I will make amends!"
A game? Low stakes? My most beloved daughter - low stakes?!
For the instant Viserys was distracted by a sudden spike of wroth, Laenor stepped forward and grabbed Lord Lannister's tunic, still wide-eyed.
"Laenor!" Viserys suddenly shouted in alarm. As much as the feckless Lannister had stirred his ire, he didn't want bloodshed!
"Lannister," Laenor growled, "listen well. Should you act against Princess Elaena in any way, your end will be unfathomable. This is not me threatening you; I am just explaining, for your sake, how not even the Gods will keep you safe if you do anything of the sort again."
Lannister's whole body was trembling as he nodded frantically and Viserys physically stepped in and grabbed Laenor by the arm.
"Enough!"
Laenor let go and backed away, then bowed. "As you command, Your Grace."
Viserys felt his heart thumping and realized that using the Dark Storm this way had its own perils. For all the man's courtly presence, he should never forget that the blood-drenched inner beast could not always so easily return to docility.
"You may go, my good-son." Viserys commanded and Laenor did so.
Lannister watched Laenor go with wide-eyes and a ghastly-pale complexion. Viserys turned on him.
"You finally admit it. Really, Jason, you played these petty games with a child who had done you no wrong. My child." He let his words hang in the air. "Go on, then – propose your amends to Princess Elaena for your shameless trespasses, and then to me for daring to lie."
"I'll pay for all of it. The wedding, the tourney prizes, and I'll make welcome Princess Elaena and Ser Kevan with a vast gift. My ears report she is improving the river road, Lannister gold will pay for that as well!"
Viserys just stared, thinking that this was far more than he would have demanded had he simply handed down a punishment and fines for the man. This was to be the grandest celebration, perhaps in the history of Westeros, after all. Only a few houses in the world could hope to pay for it all, let alone even more! Evidently the Lannister thought the silence was a sign that it wasn't enough.
"I've opposed the Dragon Bank, but no longer. It can open a branch in Lannisport. I saw your daughter's companion at the feast – she's her handmaiden, Selene Falwell. I'll arrange a match with one of the male heirs among the Westerlands houses."
Viserys nodded. "Good, good. Now that is an apology. Make the arrangements, and we need not ever speak of this again—nor allow a repeat occurrence."
Jason Lannister lowered his head deeply. "Yes, Your Grace, thank you, Your Grace, I wouldn't. Just keep him away from me."
***
Kevan was all smiles on his wedding day, and his heart remained thundering in his chest. The High Septon's sermon droned on a bit too long, but he was too practiced a noble to show his impatience. He was marrying Elaena! Elaena, the Realm's Blessing - his blessing! If standing there for a full day and night listening to the old man speak was what it took, he would endure that and far more for her.
These last few moons only made his resolve more plain, as he watched his betrothed - his wife, in mere hours now - take to the Golden Tooth as if it were a dull gem to be polished into the unrivaled envy of kings and queens. The depths of her ideas left him breathless as he slowly realized more and more of how wide their scope truly stretched.
Elaena, of course, looked beyond radiant. Her wedding dress was predominantly gold, with silver accents, and the entire gown glittered with tiny diamonds sewn into it. Similar adornments had been woven into her hair, which was affixed half up in crown-like styling while the rest fell over her shoulders and down her back.
The silver-gold and silken luster of Elaena's hair almost seemed to blend with the shades of her dress, drawing the eye wherever it flowed, reflecting and glimmering with all manner of lights as diamonds sparkled about her face like a frame of golden starlight. Kevan's own ashy-blonde shone like dull gold ore in comparison, himself like the ground below the light of her sky.
The jeweled hairpiece curving around from behind her head and holding the styling together was made in the silver shades and image of Viktoriya as if about to take flight, argent wings hovering protectively about her temples all the way to grace the corners of her eyes and accentuate the brilliant blue hue of her irises.
Kevan could scarce bring himself to look away, but all the same, he had to now and then if only to keep an intense blush from flourishing on his cheeks the longer he saw the way she looked back at him with that ever-calm, serene gaze.
Helaena's green apparel, adorned with the red sigil of House Targaryen, was far more subdued, though Kevan's soon-to-be good-sister seemed quite content with her own attire.
Still, as stunning and eye-catching as his betrothed's clothing was to Kevan, it made less of a stir in general than Princess Rhaenyra's and Lady Laena's outfits.
They wore black with red gems at their wrists, ears, and throats. The style was supposedly Essosi, and Kevan suspected it was from Lys. Those outfits left precious little to the imagination. Nearly every man's eye traveled over their bodies openly, to the point where Kevan feared that Ser Laenor or Prince Daemon would be forced to punish the gawkers.
It was perhaps an... unwise decision from them, and Kevan had a hard time comprehending why they would choose to dress so at their beloved princess's wedding. From his time on Dragonstone, Kevan knew that they both cared for Elaena deeply, as a sister by blood or choosing, so he remained confused as to why their actions were so ill-considered regarding her feelings.
During the lengthy sermon, he allowed some surreptitious confusion and concern for his betrothed to show with a pointed glance to the two, but Elaena only gave him a single unbothered raise of her brow. Helaena just continued listening with a contended, almost blissful smile.
The Queen seems more affronted than either bride. Does anyone understand this family? I fear I am still out of my depth every time I am here. Thank the gods for Elaena, but I will be glad to return home.
After their vows and ceremony were completed, sealed with a chaste kiss that left something in Kevan feeling floaty as the memory of her lips lingered on his, it was time for the feast and the dance. A great many toasts were made, and he gladly took Elaena onto the floor of the feast hall for their first dance as husband and wife. Kevan held her close and savored the way a faint tension faded from her impeccable courtly demeanor when it was just the two of them, delighting in the way her eyes shined up close with a piercing intellect and interest. She glided through it with easy grace, and when the music changed, they disengaged, and the King danced with his daughter.
A line had soon formed, waiting to interact with Princess Elaena, the Realm's Blessing. The bride which today of all days had both humbled Kevan and sparked a fierce pride in knowing was his.
She begged off their advances and returned to her seat at the high table next to her half-sister Helaena, the other half of the wedding. It wasn't long before she returned and chose her next partner, rather than waiting to be asked. Lord Beesbury affably twirled her a few times before Aemond cut in during a pause. Kevan watched his now good-brother speak with Elaena as they danced, and then it was another's turn.
Kevan couldn't help but admire the utter poise she maintained regardless of her partners, and would have gone to her, worried for her comfort or fatigue had she not mentioned beforehand wishing to use the dances for a few private conversations.
"Ser Kevan," Jason Lannister said as he approached. "I've a gift for you, a grand sum that will be delivered to the Golden Tooth as gift to you and the princess."
Kevan wondered what his game was, but nothing followed. No requests or demands for action – just an open-ended promise to send gold to him. One which he gracefully accepted.
How odd. Elaena would say that the generosity itself could be leverage for obligation or reciprocation, but Lord Lannister only looked... worried? I'll have to talk to her.
Looking back upon the court, he noticed that a few lords and ladies wore the colors of their houses, but most either wore black or green. The black-clad wedding guests were more abundant. It seemed to him that the Queen's importance was fading, and now the realm looked to the next generation, seeking to curry favor with Rhaenyra.
And yet… I've already heard seven different comments on how brazen the heir was to try upstaging her sister's wedding with that dress. Some from those who wear the black! I know Elaena must have noticed, but she still seems without a care?
Still, Kevan would admit in the privacy of his thoughts that he much preferred Elaena's choice of dress and her striking look, the way every ornamentation was tasteful and served to enhance her elegant silhouette. The flow and tailoring of soft fabric with her natural beauty only embraced her frame and provided a graceful, understated emphasis to every gentle curve - of her hips, her waist, her shoulders, the healthy swell of her chest.
Gods, his wife was impossibly beautiful, and so much was her natural countenance and movement, the way she held herself, the clarity and near-radiance of her skin. It almost discomfited him to feel how much more enticing, alluring it was to see subtle suggestion in his wife's every natural motion where the Essosi dresses shamelessly flaunted and revealed near-fully.
Pulling his mind to the present, Kevan accepted another set of well-wishes and congratulations, this time from the Tullys. They were his neighbors, and a great many goods flowed along the road their ancestral homes shared. In the past, the two houses had been cordial but not overly friendly; Elaena wished to change that. Kevan gave his enthusiastic thanks and requested the opportunity to visit Riverrun within the year, which was granted with gladness.
His father was having a wonderful time. He had always been a significant player in Westerlands politics, but had no great role in the wider political scene. Today, his father had the great and powerful speak with him and lavish him with praise for his house's good fortune and for having a son worthy of the princess.
The sentiment is one I would know perhaps better than any, for I truly count it the greatest of fortunes to have Elaena deem me worthy of her hand. A worthiness I hope to prove ever more in our years together.
The dancing continued, and then one of the knights in Elaena's service signaled him. It was time to go. Elaena had no wish to participate in the bedding ceremony, and rather than cause a scene, it was decided to slip away quietly. Kevan would leave first, and then Elaena. Given that they were now four hours into the feasting and celebrating, this drew little suspicion, for attending to the privy after drink was common.
He saw Aegon emerge from the same door and nodded in his direction.
"I shall see you again in a few months, most like."
Aegon nodded. "To Golden Tooth then?"
"Yes, Elaena has spoken with whom she needs to speak, and is anxious to continue several of the projects she is working on."
"I envy you two, envy your chance to be together without the suffocating expectations of the court. Enjoy the ride on Viktoriya."
Elaena soon exited, and the two made their way to where Viktoriya would be saddled and made ready for their departure. The King would soon announce their leaving, but by that time, they would already be in the air, off to begin their life together as husband and wife at last.
***
Selene Falwell found the dual marriage the most incredible event she had ever witnessed. The music, the food, the beautiful dresses, and every great knight in the land come to pay their respects.
And I was able to see it all, and even help with preparing Elaena!
She wished for the day to never end. Princess Elaena continued to shimmer and draw many eyes, but it appeared Selene herself had caught a few as well. A finely dressed noble with a heavy limp approached her, and Selene knew she was now speaking to a member of the small council!
Larys Clubfoot, the Master of Whisperers, was a man many would disdain as a cripple. However, as the son of a former Hand and with an incredibly powerful position, his lot in life was far different from that of most impaired individuals. He was not exactly easy on the eyes, but his attire was immaculate. Selene noticed how people moved aside as he approached, some even bowing in respect!
"My lady, you look radiant today."
"Thank you, my lord." Selene responded with a polite smile. Her own dress was a subdued complement to Elaena's, smooth blends of golds and silvers with clever hints of her own house colors woven in. It flattered her hair and figure quite nicely, and Selene was well-pleased both with it and the symbol of Princess Elaena's favor that it signified. The silver dragon embroidery upon her breast and over her heart could not be mistaken.
Even those who knew her not, now knew of her and took notice that Lady Selene Falwell held status in the retinue of the Realm's Blessing, chosen to be at her side at the grandest of all weddings. Such notice was only further evidenced by her current company, who doubtless understood the significance.
"You are to be commended for Princess Elaena's dress. It draws the eye in," his lips curled into a slight smile, "…an enchanting way."
"I helped but a little, 'twas already designed before I came into her service," she demurred from taking any credit that wasn't hers.
"Tell me, how do you like Golden Tooth? There seems much afoot in Lord Lefford's domain."
That was true. The large number of Tyroshi former slaves had been given several tasks to complete. Fresh construction and the foundations of large buildings were being set. Work was underway to improve the road and create tributary paths branching in other directions. New smithies had also sprung up with haste.
Several of these projects Selene had been expected to engage with and inspect, apparently to both further her understanding of the Princess Elaena's efforts and to improve her own command of Valyrian dialects through experience. After the heart-stopping demonstration with Viktoriya, Selene had given her best effort at meeting those expectations with all the grace and seriousness she could muster.
"Yes, Princess Elaena is quite satisfied with the new folk who have come from Tyrosh. She often says that slavery is quite the abomination, and that the ability to pursue one's economic aspirations will create a stronger work ethic, nurture talent, and lead to many inno… innovations. I have enjoyed my time there and hope I can stay on for many more years. Princess Elaena is very kind, and the Leffords have made us all feel quite welcome."
Larys was nodding politely. "That is pleasing to hear, but I also wish to carry a warning to you, my sweet lady."
"A warning?" she asked nervously.
"Aye, beware the Lannisters. They may mean Princess Elaena no little harm, and I suspect they will try to use you to reach her."
Selene looked around warily. "In… in what way?"
Larys leaned in close to her and whispered, "Not all whispers come to fruition, and this is still but a shadow of a shadow. I simply wish to warn you to be on your guard." He pulled away from her. "Such a lovely flower as yourself should not be played the fool." Larys then lifted her hand and planted a kiss on the back of it – an act rather forward given their positions – before turning to limp away.
The fear, I feel, can be examined another day. I will not discount his courteous warning, but nor will I allow it to spoil this most wondrous day.
She drank more from her cup and then had a pair of nobles from the Riverlands speak with her. After pleasantries were exchanged, they asked what she thought of the heir's dress.
"A bit bold for my tastes, but she looks lovely in it," was Selene's reply.
"Does the princess share your opinion?"
She stilled. This was the sort of talk that could lead to problems.
"I have not spoken to her of it, oh excuse me, but I see someone I simply must speak with." Selene hastily withdrew with a smile of contrition.
She stood and left the two in order to approach Ser Medrick.
"Excuse me, ser, but you are Medrick Manderly are you not?"
"I am, and 'tis my shame to say so, but I know not your name."
"Selene Falwell." She gave a curtsy and flashed a tiny coy smirk, one hand not-so-subtly resting on and drawing attention to the silvery draconic iconography adorning her ample chest, "I am one of Princess Elaena's ladies-in-waiting. She has spoken much about you and suggested that you would make a fine dance partner."
"She is quite kind to say so, and I will endeavor not to disappoint." Medrick gallantly held out his hand, and soon they were dancing in time with the drummers, flutes, and strings.
The princess had said that all five of the other previously primary suitors for her hand would make wonderful husbands for any of them. She could make no guarantees that a match could be made, because, of course, the two handmaidens still not betrothed were not from the greatest of houses. However, it was pointedly mentioned that such that should not stop them from considering the possibilities.
Held close to him and his strong figure, as well seeing his splendid expressions and gentlemanly behavior, Selene agreed most heartily with her princess's assessment.
I'm not sure if the cold would suit me, but he would.
***
Darius Vellaris, elected Triarch of Volantis, had come to King's Landing to see for himself this rising power in the West. Other than hired sellswords, he had taken no one else from Volantis to preserve his reputation and elevated status. As an Elephant, he welcomed the thought of additional trade. He was also wary, for the displayed might of King Viserys, with his demonstration of dragons, had been a sight. No matter the strength of Volantis or the might of its people, with their tremendous legacy and traditions, they alone could not stop that many dragons.
His first impression of the city had been contempt, for even above the smell of the sea, as he neared, he could detect the stink of the city. In some ways, Westeros was as primitive as the Dothraki. In other ways, they challenged even the most civilized parts of Essos.
Their dominion is too large. Some of their people have never seen snow, yet others see it even before winter comes. They have all come to pay homage to their Dragon King and his daughters – so many people of differing views and customs, bound by the rule of dragons.
Darius had heard stories of Princess Elaena and her lengthy tour across of all of Westeros to find the man most suitable for her hand. There was a certain arrogance about it that reminded him of the commonality in their roots. Old Valyria was many things, but it was never humble. Darius was a man who did not concern himself with the politics of Westeros, though he had been told much during his voyage to King's Landing.
The color of the dress symbolized something, just as her half-sister's green symbolized support for the Queen's faction against the Heir's faction. The Blacks and the Greens. He found it rather primitive, for what do colors truly represent? In Volantis, the Elephants represented wisdom, and the Tigers represented ferocity. That made sense, not this color foolishness.
Gold and silver. Silver and gold. It flew in the face of the clear factions. She was marrying a man who was heir to a place called Golden Tooth; perhaps it was in homage to that.
Or… is it a sign of her loyalty to her patron over both the Queen and the Heir? What has gold always represented throughout history? Wealth. Money. She is this Lord Beesbury's creature. But is she a rabble, or is she an elephant?
He thought in terms of Cyvasse. While technically the dragon piece was more powerful than the elephant, he had a natural inclination to use the elephant to symbolize an important asset over the more common dragon. The rabble was but a tool, but an elephant – still moved by the player – has power and intellect of its own.
Never one to avoid confrontation, he boldly approached Lord Beesbury. The man was standing against one of the walls, speaking to a lord with a roaring lion upon his doublet.
Lion… ah, they rule the great port on the other side of Westeros farthest from our shores.
"Might I join the two of you?" Darius asked.
"And you are?" the lion-sigil bearing man asked.
"Darius Vellaris, Triarch of Volantis."
The man's eyes widened slightly. "Ah, you are most welcome in our realm. I am Tyland Lannister, Master of Ships, and this is Lord Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin."
Darius gave a polite nod of respect to the Lannister and then bowed more deeply to Beesbury.
"Lord Beesbury, it is my profound honor to be in your presence. I offer heartfelt congratulations on your grandson's betrothal."
The mighty authority behind the Dragon Bank did not look so powerful in person. But Darius knew that looks could be deceiving. Qarth believed that much of Westeros viewed him as nothing more than an affable lord who served his King faithfully. The look of confusion on Tyland Lannister's face confirmed that for him.
"My thanks, Darius. I trust you had a peaceful and safe voyage?"
A warning, I have overstepped and inadvertently partially undone his careful deception.
"It was," he said smoothly, despite the sudden chill in his spine, "and I hope the return voyage will be the same. Please know that any words spoken that may cause confusion are due to my lack of use of this language. I pray that you will forgive any accidental errors."
Beesbury let out a small laugh. "Nonsense, you speak the tongue just fine."
Ah, such cruelty. He is letting me know that there will be no forgiveness if I lapse again.
Darius was an orator, but words failed him for a moment. He recovered and said, "I will not take up much of your time. Our city is eager for friendly relations with Westeros. Typically, your merchants arrive at our shores, but we are open to sending our captains to you, should you wish."
Beesbury considered before nodding, "We would not be opposed, but any slave who sets foot in King's Landing will not return to Volantis. We do not agree or participate in that practice."
Darius was taken aback. He knew the Westerosi disliked the practice of slavery, but he had not thought that sentiment to come from such a wanton man as him.
No, this makes sense. He never said they would be free, only that they would not return. Magic requires sacrifice, he would use their bodies and souls to fuel his sorceries. Is that the price of trade with King's Landing? They are powerful, but we have our pride, no one can just dictate human sacrifices as a condition of trade!
"I see, it will have to be discussed; in Volantis, I am but one of three, and our elections are mere months away."
Tyland raised his voice in interest, "That's right, you people don't have a King, you actually have people vote every year on who will rule."
"What an odd practice," Beesbury mused, "I've always found that the stability of a single ruler is much more effective."
Not one to share power, are you?
"It is our way," Darius said, feeling the need to defend his city but not to argue with him. "It is known that Princess Elaena often speaks your words regarding the functioning of the Dragon Bank. Will her marriage change that?"
Beesbury shook his head. "No, not at all. The Dragon Bank will continue its function, for she cannot abide to be away for long. Should you desire to borrow, or take part in our business ventures, we shall be here."
Some sorcerous tie that compels physical proximity to him? Such a thing seems far-fetched and beyond the ken of magic as we in Volantis know it. And yet, he speaks it without a hint of boast. I fear it is but the unvarnished truth. He did look delighted to have the princess dancing within his grasp, while she yet remained utterly stoic and disciplined, like a graceful puppet on what should be her joyous wedding day. Is that why the young Prince Aemond looked so disgruntled when he interrupted them? To have ensorcelled the King's own daughter! Is the King in a similar situation, or is he ignorant?
Suddenly uncomfortable fencing words with the dark mastermind, Darius bowed low, lower than before, and thanked him for his time. He was used to being around warlocks and sorcerers. They had their tricks, sometimes with scents that could make eyes see things that were not truly there. Other times, they used minor glamours that could not withstand the touch. Some used powders and the like to make flames dance in queer ways. They all put on airs and showed the world some outward proof of their sorcerous nature.
What did it say of the Arcane Apiarist that he had no need of such games?
We must never cross him.
***
Aemond was in an ugly mood the day of the wedding. He had difficulty defining why to himself. Perhaps it was because Elaena was clearly marrying below her station. Perhaps it was because 'the great and the mighty' acted like uncivilized peasants in a dirty brothel when laden with drink. Perhaps it was because Rhaenyra and Laena had made pitiful attempts to upstage Elaena and Helaena on their big day.
Or all of the above.
To make matters worse, Viserys, his oh-so-wise father, thought it best for the children not directly involved in the wedding to sit together. Aemond had been instructed to sit with Daeron, Daenora, and Uthor. Across from them were Jacaerys, Lucerys, Aenar, Baela, Rhaena, and Aelyx.
I've seen battle, by my age I may be a child, but by my actions I am not.
Baelon and Maegor were there as well, but being taken care of by servants at the far end.
Daeron prattled on about the blessings of the Seven and his prayer for Elaena to have a fruitful marriage, setting Aemond's teeth on edge. Jacaerys pointed out various heraldry, quizzing his younger brothers. Above all, Aemond was simply bored and annoyed. He had stolen one dance with Elaena, but beyond that, he only wished for the feasting to end. The single, brief conversation he'd had with Elaena about herself and the wedding had provided more stimulation and interest than the entire rest of the feast combined.
His father rose and announced that the happy couples had thanked everyone for attending and invited them to continue eating, dancing, and celebrating. Some in the crowd seemed put off by the absence of a bedding ceremony, but their complaints were ignored as the wine, food, and entertainment flowed on.
"Good," Daeron said, "the bedding ritual is a barbaric tradition and offensive to the Faith of the Seven."
"Why's that?" Aenar asked innocently, and to Aemond's ears seemed truly curious.
Daeron scowled. "Typical."
Jacaerys matched Daeron's scowl. "And what do you mean by that?"
"Look at how your mother is dressed; it's no wonder that even young children raised on Dragonstone have already grown inured to the sight of naked flesh being paraded around."
Aemond thought Daeron was being ridiculous, but at least it promised to be entertaining.
Aenar just looked confused as Jacaerys explained it to him. Meanwhile, Lucerys had clenched his fists.
"Don't talk about my mother, she's the heir to the Iron Throne!"
"And dressed like a… no, I won't say it to avoid profaning this celebration," Daeron replied.
Jacaerys stopped his brother from rising and then addressed the table.
"Stop, all of you, and let's just enjoy the feast."
Aemond almost let it go. Almost. But the thought of returning to the endless tedium of this table was too much for him.
"I would, but the sight of the grotesque has made me lose my appetite. Really, whose idea was it to bring that monster to the feast?" he said, gesturing toward Maegor.
"He's not a monster, take those words back!" Lucerys growled, his voice low and tense.
He laughed. Aemond couldn't help it. The thought that he should fear a boy not yet ten was ridiculous.
Daeron put his hand on Aemond's shoulder. "Brother, that was uncalled for. Maegor is innocent in all this; he is an instrument of punishing the hubris of the Rogue Prince. The Smith made him with a purpose."
Daenora also raised her voice. "Aemond, don't be mean. Maegor isn't even living with Daemon anymore." She waved in the direction of the twin daughters of Daemon and said, "Elaena is now fostering him."
"At least he will be away from court, though it pains me to learn that my fair sister must be in its company. We are Targaryens; only the best should be present here. It is a disgrace if the people see a Targaryen like that. But I tire of this discourse; you children do not understand such matters."
In truth, I would rather this conversation cease before it grows larger and Elaena learns of it later.
Jacaerys sat up straighter. "I understand more than you think, Aemond. Under my rule, Maegor will be just as valued as any other family member."
Daeron snorted, "You? Rule? You aren't fit to rule, and the Seven will never allow you to ascend the throne."
Aemond grabbed Daeron's arm, whispering harshly, "What are you doing?"
It was one thing to speak ill of a deformed embarrassment, or mock someone's attire, it was another to imply that the firstborn of the current heir would not sit the Iron Throne. That stepped the line over into treasonous talk.
"You dare?" Lucerys said, growing even angrier.
"Anyone with eyes would come to the same conclusion," Daeron said with contempt. "Your mother has made a mockery of the family far more than even Daemon has. She may be heir, but her lack of wisdom and propriety makes her unfit to rule. The obscenity of it..."
Lucerys jumped from his seat and lunged across the table, falling onto Daeron who was still seated. The chair rocked back and they both tumbled to the floor. Aemond stood and grabbed Lucerys, pulling him off the stunned Daeron. Around the table came the elder brother.
"Let him go," he demanded as he charged at Aemond.
Aemond laughed and threw Lucerys to the floor and then caught Jacaerys by the jaw with one hand and pushed him onto the table.
"Now, now, little prince, don't do anything rash." Aemond taunted.
A serving of butter sailed toward him, thrown by one of the twins, and he flinched away from it with a narrow dodge. Jacaerys seized the moment to slam both hands down onto Aemond's, breaking his grip. He tried to hit him again, but Aemond was too quick, and simply avoided the blow before shoving Jacaerys into Lucerys, who had just begun to rise. He winced as he saw the back of Jacaerys' head slam into his brother's nose. Drawing blood had not been his intent.
The commotion had drawn some of their minders, but the guards were hesitant to lay hands on a prince.
Daeron took a thrown plate full of honeyed apple slices to his cheek and neck. The plate shattered and he tried to wipe away the sticky substance angrily.
"Which one of you bastards threw that at me?" he demanded to know.
"WE AREN'T BASTARDS!" Lucerys screamed, some blood dripping down from his nose.
The music had still been playing, but now a cry went out that a child was bleeding. Aemond felt a sinking feeling come over him as he replayed what had just happened in his mind's eye.
His mother pushed her way into the scene. Only a moment later Daemon jostled into it as well, nearly hurling two onlooking nobles out of his way.
"Someone called you a bastard?" Daemond's tone carried clearly through much of the hall. "Tell me who and I'll have their tongue."
Daeron stumbled backward and his mother sneered.
"Why is it Daemon, that every time I see you, you have found yourself in a quarrel with a child?"
Daemon drew his belt knife. "Child or no, the penalty for speaking slander is the same. Now which one of you is it?"
Daenora had started crying and Alicent moved to comfort her.
"Oh, fret not, Daemon is all bluster. He would not dare lay a hand upon any of you."
The crowd tightened around them, forming an almost impenetrable wall. Daemon advanced, but Aemond's mother stared him down. A cry rang out to make way for the King, but it still felt distant.
Aemond hesitated, unsure of what to do.
"Go no closer to my mother or sister, it was I," Daeron said, his voice somber.
Daemon looked at the boy, and then the crowd parted, people falling over themselves to get out of the way. Laenor Velaryon stepped through, several feet of space to his right and left. The change that came over his resolute and unflinching mother was immediate.
"Laenor," Alicent's voice quivered, "they are children," she fell to her knees between Laenor and Daeron. "Wait for the King, please."
The Dark Storm's expression was utterly unreadable as he stepped forward. Aemond heard his mother cry out in fear, but Laenor did nothing except help Lucerys to his feet and inspect his nose.
"You've had worse in the training yard. Now, will someone tell me what transpired? I heard nothing but shouting and the crowd forming."
Everyone started to speak at once, and before anything clear could be discerned by the new arrivals, the King arrived.
"What is the MEANING of this, at the WEDDING OF MY DAUGHTERS!?" The King of the Seven Kingdoms roared, fury exploding with his words and writ across his face.
He fixed his gaze on Daemon. "Put that thing away, brother, and speak – what has happened?"
Daemon re-sheathed his belt knife. "Daeron Targaryen stands accused of treasonous slander. I know naught else."
Viserys turned to look at the boy. "Well?"
Aemond watched his brother take a deep breath. "The Father compels us all to speak only what is true. I was struck by a plate of food. I did not know who threw it, but, in anger, I asked what bastard threw it at me."
Aemond's mother, who had regained her feet and was still between Laenor and Daeron, broke in, "Yes, do you see? It was a childish insult, with no accusation behind it. This is a childhood squabble and brawl, let that be all this is."
Daeron's face hardened with stubbornness. "The Father compels us all to speak only what is true. Father, it is obvious to all that your daughter's children are nothing but baseborn pretenders, who—"
Daemon moved toward Daeron and two of the Kingsguard blocked his path instantly. Ser Criston looked almost eager.
"Stay your hand, Daemon," the King commanded, and then turned to Daeron. "Boy, who has poisoned your ears with such words?"
"It is not my ears who have learned of this, but my eyes." Daeron replied.
"Be silent," the Queen commanded, desperation in her voice as she grabbed Daeron by the arm.
Aemond saw Viserys, his father, try desperately to master his anger. The feast hall, still teeming with people, had grown eerily silent.
"You are a boy, so you shall receive a boy's punishment. I would not see you maimed, my son, for repeating the lies fed to you. But my patience is at an end. Who has fed you these calumnies?"
More guards and Kingsguard had arrived. Daeron just stared at his father.
Laenor opened his mouth to speak, and that simple movement had the guards flinch away and the Kingsguard hastily draw their own blades and step in front of him. A look of grim determination etched on each of their faces, including Ser Criston's.
"Seven Hells, I was only going to suggest that this is not the place for such a discussion," Laenor said, his voice tinged with exasperation and irritation.
The King looked around, and something heavy fell across his eyes.
"Gods, what a wretched end to this damned celebration. Clear the hall, the feasting is over."
Aemond knew not what would come next, but he had never seen Viserys, his father, appear older or wearier than he did now. Rage had drained from the man, replaced by a deep melancholy. Aemond feared that whatever happened next would cast a long shadow for years to come.
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Published:2024-02-24Updated:2026-05-20Words:319,557Chapters:58/?Comments:1,547Kudos:3,725Bookmarks:1,071Hits:221,293
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 43
Notes:
A special thank you to MARch_Of_Time for making this fic better with every edit and suggestions!
Also I've started yet another new story, a crossover between Tanya the Evil and BattleTech.
Chapter Text
Chapter 43
"How far man can fall when necessity demands." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 13
Otto had been caught completely off guard by the sudden turmoil. He was speaking with Lord Estermont about the dangers of Daemon's potential adventurism in Essos when the commotion occurred. He arrived near the end when Viserys demanded the hall be cleared.
Fool, better to let the crowd be distracted by the feast than to let the last thing on their minds be accusations and conflict.
Otto was worried and cursed his nephew in Oldtown. Yes, he had instructed them to steer the boy toward the arms of the Faith while subtly pressing the issue of bastardry, but not to make a public accusation! Daeron could easily doom Otto's family with a careless word here.
Why am I constantly surrounded by incompetents and failures? Must I do everything myself?
Jason Lannister, the spineless wretch he was, allowed himself to be intimidated and gave away a staggering amount of gold. He was now saying that, despite the ineptitude and the debasement of the Seven Kingdoms' repute that Rhaenyra's reign would bring, it was better to endure such indignities than to face the wrath of the Dark Storm.
It all came back to Laenor, the man who had utterly and potentially irrevocably doomed Aegon's chances of taking the throne.
I must adjust my plans. No matter how great a warrior Laenor is, much of the outcome will hinge upon dragons. If Laenor could be separated from Seasmoke, and I have Aemond slay Seasmoke after the King's death… hmm, yes, it could work. The might Laenor and Seasmoke displayed in destroying in the Dornish and Triarchy fleets no doubt stemmed from Laenor's brutal ruthlessness and tactical acumen. Vermithor is at least thrice the size of Seasmoke; it should prove little challenge.
Having at least the beginnings of an idea of a plan to right the scales made him feel a bit better, yet the dreadful sense of doom still hung over him as they waited impatiently for hundreds of guests to depart. The Essosi delegation appeared perplexed, and Otto could only shake his head at the loss of prestige the Iron Throne had suffered due to the King's hasty actions.
"Send the children not involved in the incident away," Viserys ordered.
Those who remained were Jace, Luke, Baela, Rhaena, Aemond, and Daeron. Otto's eyes flashed as he saw Aemond glance his way. The boy had the good grace to look somewhat contrite. The adults still present were Ser Laenor, Daemon, Alicent, six of the Kingsguard, Lord Corlys, who had only recently arrived, and Ser Gwayne.
"Where is my daughter?" Viserys asked.
"My wife went with my sister for some air. With the feast hall emptying, they likely cannot push past the crowd," Laenor supplied.
"No matter, she will be here soon enough. For now, we will settle this. Once and for all," Viserys said firmly.
Otto looked at the King and felt a moment of pity for the man. His countenance bore an angry disposition, but his eyes appeared almost lifeless. The joy and mirth of the day had utterly faded.
All this suffering could have been avoided if you had just named Aegon heir when he was born.
"Your Grace, given the… heated nature of any discussion, perhaps it is best that all be disarmed, save for the Kingsguard." Otto suggested with a glance at Laenor.
Daemon laughed, "You really are a craven, aren't you Hightower."
"It is unnecessary, Otto, my family will obey me."
"Now, Daeron, my son, both Rhaenyra and Laenor have stated that Rhaenyra's children are his. Rhaenyra and Elaena are both my daughters, and yet you can see differences in their appearance. Laena has given birth to both Visenya and Maegor, and the two look nothing alike. My dearly departed friend and former Hand gave birth to Lord Harwin and Lord Larys from the same mother. This childish notion that children must take after their parentage perfectly is sheer folly." Viserys kept his voice tight and controlled, but the undercurrent of bitter anger was keenly felt. "Who has told you these absurdities about my daughter, the heir and future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?"
Daeron had a stubborn look on his face and Alicent was at his side.
"Daeron, please my sweet boy, we know you are just repeating what you have heard. You are oft in far-off Oldtown, taking lessons from Maesters who obsess over books. You travel the streets of a busy port where all manner of different folk from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms gossip and speak of every matter under the sun. Just tell your father what you heard," Alicent desperately attempted to persuade.
Daemon let loose a sharp laugh. "How transparent can this mummery be, brother? Daeron heard these lies from the Hightowers. Or maybe from Alicent herself, not some sailor on the streets of Oldtown."
"Let him speak," Viserys demanded.
Daeron looked the King in the eye. "Your Grace, I have heard sailors speak rumors of Rhaenyra laying with Ser Harwin. And her uncle. And a dozen others. I've heard she's slept with the suitors for her sister, I've heard that she's been with Lord Corlys, and I've even heard that she has lain with her good-sister."
Alicent smiled, "Do you see? These are foolish tales that our young child thought true…"
"Mother, I am not finished. I've heard it once, I've heard it twice, I've heard it near over a hundred times. I've heard it within the Hightower, within the Starry Sept, within the Citadel, and I've heard it at tourneys. It is on every lip, because the truth is obvious."
Alicent gave an audible gasp and Lord Corlys moved closer to the King and spoke.
"This cannot go on, Your Grace."
"I know that, Corlys," Viserys said with a heavy voice. "I have sought mercy for you in light of your youth and that you are my son. And you throw it back at me? Do you think you are immune to consequences, and so repeat these vile affronts that threaten to drive this family apart?"
"My love," Alicent began, "tempers are high, he knows not what he is saying. We have not been there to raise him; perhaps my cousin has been remiss in his duties in rearing Daeron, but let me explain things to him, and we can discuss this again on the morrow."
Ah yes, negligence instead of open treason, not an awful alternative.
"That is insufficient," Daemon said forcefully. "He has not only compounded his slander, but he has also included myself, my wife, and my good-father. I demand satisfaction, and I shall have it."
As Daemon spoke, Princess Rhaenyra, Lady Laena, and Lord Harwin just arrived.
***
Rhaenyra found the pageantry of the wedding well pleasing. Her younger sister literally shone with an outward radiance that matched her inner light.
Finally it is on display!
She found the shocked and outraged glances of the court an entertaining bonus. The shackles of propriety were all the more loathsome, given the tales of debauchery she'd heard. Harwin's younger brother had shared quite a few scandalous accounts. Half the court made use of brothels or lay with other men's wives, their lovers' actual husbands none the wiser. At least she and Laenor had an understanding.
Laenor had doubted the wisdom of her and Laena's dresses, but it was too delicious a notion to resist. Rhaenyra had not graced court functions in several years prior to the attack on High Tide, and it was time the Seven Kingdoms were reminded that she was no meek maiden. She was bold, she was Rhaenyra, she was the heir.
Though I must admit, if only to myself, it was mostly to tweak the nose of that sanctimonious bitch that married my father.
The feast was wonderful, with countless dishes, each prepared with exceptional care. The musicians were masters of their craft, and she danced in earnest—with Laenor first, of course, who proved quite able. Though they did not share a bed, theirs was a marriage of abiding friendship and joy. Rhaenyra could not fathom the people's fear of him. Yes, he was a mighty warrior, a dragonrider of impeccable skill, but what of it? He wielded his power with restraint. Daemon, too, was a mighty warrior, and while their time together was far from gentle, it had never turned deadly.
Not all possess my strength. They behold Laenor's exploits, and it fills them with terror. I am of a different nature. Cole is my enemy, yet I do not tremble in his presence. It is but further proof that my father was right to keep me as heir. I have the strength and the will to rule both firmly and justly.
When her father announced that Elaena and Kevan had departed, she was taken aback. She had wished to impart some sound, sisterly advice, and now it seemed the opportunity was lost. Yet, never one to be deterred by a setback, she seized upon Laena and Harwin to see if they might intercept her sister before she left King's Landing.
They knew they had failed when they saw the silver outline of Viktoriya on the horizon.
Laena giggled, having had a bit more wine than usual. "For a moment, I was confused. She appeared most like Seasmoke from a distance."
Rhaenyra squinted a bit; the dark night made it hard to recognize all but the most basic details of the dragon. She could see why her good-sister would say that.
Rhaenyra sighed in disappointment. "Unfortunate that we have missed her, but I can always impart my worldly wisdom another time. Come, let us return to the festivities!"
She was greatly confused when she saw the hall emptying. When she inquired of someone, they merely looked wide-eyed at her and said that some of the children had been fighting.
Instant worry sobered her earlier merriment and she bade Harwin fight against the press to get them inside. The people parted, but little time was gained as the hall was near empty when they arrived.
"That is insufficient," Daemon said, his voice powerful and demanding. "He has not only compounded his slander, but he has also included myself, my wife, and my good-father. I demand satisfaction, and I shall have it."
The King was about to speak, but then noticed Rhaenyra's arrival.
"And where were you?" he asked bitterly.
Taken aback and perplexed, she looked over the faces staring at her. Jace and Luke appeared angry, the twins concerned, Laenor resigned, Alicent worried, as were the Kingsguard.
"I was trying to catch Elaena before she made it to the Dragon Pit, but I was too late. What slander? What is going on?"
Her good-father spoke gravely. "Prince Daeron has challenged my grandsons' parentage and leveled further accusations against your conduct in open court during the celebration, including against myself and your uncle."
Rhaenyra froze in shock. Had Alicent put her child up to this? But no… she knew her once-friend well, and Alicent was barely holding her composure together.
Alicent filled the void of Rhaenyra's stunned silence, "My love, Daeron is merely repeating what others have said, not making the accusation himself."
The boy in question's jaw was clenched tightly. "I do not believe all the tales, nor do I accuse Lord Corlys of the act. But I do accuse…"
"BE SILENT!" Alicent screamed.
Her father raised a hand as several began attempting to speak at once.
"Daeron, you will not repeat that foulness again. This madness must come to an end. Who of note has repeated these vile tales? I do not care overmuch for smallfolk jealous of their betters, especially ones beyond my reach, but did Maesters speak of this? Septons? Nobles?"
"Father, you ask me to throw to the wolves those who believe the truth before their eyes. The Seven-Pointed Star says that…"
"I am your father! I am your King! I am commanding you to answer my questions. Speak, or my continued mercy will be withdrawn."
Rhaenyra saw avenues of advantage here. "Father, Daeron is loyal to those who have fostered him. The loyalty that rightfully belongs to you has been usurped. You know by whom. Lord Ormund Hightower departed this hall but a short time ago; let the confessors put him to sharp question. I would not see my daring half-brother maimed when the fault lies with the one who has poisoned his heart."
Rhaenyra thought this would have been well received. She had no wish to see a child harmed, nor should anyone else. The weight of judgment should fall upon the treasonous Hightowers. Even Alicent should have been pleased that her son would keep his tongue. To her unfortunate surprise, this was not the case, as nearly everyone raised their voice in opposition.
Daemon was angry that Daeron was not to be suitably punished.
Otto spoke out against the idea of torture being used against the Queen's kin to compel a false confession.
Alicent too defended her kin.
Lord Corlys warned that such a move based on so little but a child's refusal to speak would make every noble fearful and resentful.
Even Laenor frowned.
Rhaenyra felt heat rise to her cheeks. "How can all of you not see what is obvious before your eyes? What child cares for matters such as these? The Hightowers have long craved their blood upon the throne. Did you not once dismiss your Hand for badgering you over the succession?"
Her father shook his head in frustration. "Otto is my friend, and a devoted and loyal advisor. He has demonstrated humility, and has long since redeemed himself in my eyes. This entire time he was in King's Landing, and yet you throw barbs at him? Daeron's vile words are not excuse for you to settle old grudges."
Rhaenyra recoiled. "I am the wronged party here, father. Daeron is the weed; you can take his tongue, but until you destroy the root, more and more shall spring forth."
"If we are agreed, I can do it here and now," Daemon spoke. His words were simple, yet Rhaenyra felt a chill, for she knew he meant them. Daemon was not a man who minced words or made idle threats. If her father gave permission, it would be but a moment before the tongue was forever riven from Daeron's mouth.
Viserys turned away from Rhaenyra and grabbed Daemon by the front.
"I am King! Not you, and I have yet to make my decision."
Daemon glared at his brother. "Then follow the edict you made. Show the realm that you are a King, and that you will not suffer treacherous talk or betrayal – from anyone."
"The Queen has the right of it," Laenor said calmly, and shock appeared upon many faces. "Tempers are high. The guests have departed from the feast. Such weighty matters as law and punishment should not be assessed hastily. I am a wronged party in this, but I will not make demands of my King – I trust him to make the choice that befits his dual roles as King and father. It is not a task I envy."
Oh, how the realm misunderstands you, my husband. You became the Dark Storm out of necessity, not of want. You are not by nature a wrathful man.
Her father was nodding. "My wife and Ser Laenor are in agreement. What was the phrase my daughter used? Ah, yes – measure twice and cut once. I will ponder the matter, alone. In the morning, you will all return to the Throne Room for a private audience, and I shall render my decision."
He turned to go, but before he did, he gave one last look at Daeron. "You will have chance to speak; consider well your words on the morrow."
***
Viserys wrestled with the decision long into the night, so frustrated with everything. His plan to build bonds between the two sides of the family, leading to fostering and then a brighter, less acrimonious future, was in ruin. What should have been the greatest day of his reign had been filled with conflict and shame.
Perhaps it is for the best to just keep them separate.
The dawn had finally come, and Viserys ordered Grand Maester Mellos to attend, along with Lord Ormund Hightower. He hoped his wife had managed to talk some sense into their son. Ser Laenor had once again proven to be a boon to the realm. His good-son could have chosen to cow others with his might, but instead embraced reason and deferred to his King.
It was a subdued group that greeted him in the throne room. His daughter was dressed more appropriately, though she wore all black with only scant touches of red. Corlys, Laenor, Laena, Daemon, Jace, and Luke were clad in black, while Otto, Alicent, Aemond, Daeron, and Ormund wore green. Heated glares flickered between the two parties as Viserys ascended the steps to the Iron Throne.
"Prince Daeron, what have you to say?" Viserys asked, keeping the anger that burned in his chest from seeping too much into his voice.
"Your Grace," Daeron said slowly, "I have had time to reflect on my actions. I wish to apologize for my statements—to Princess Elaena, Princess Helaena, Prince Aegon, and Ser Kevan. It was a joyous celebration, and I fear my rash words marred the happiness of their day. As they are not present, I will offer my apologies to them in person, when next I see them."
Viserys thought it was a good start, but more need be said. Daeron looked to his mother and then back toward the King.
"You are the King, and your word is law. But I will not condemn others for speaking what they believe to be true, nor will I take back my words." Viserys tightened his fists, fury rising upon his features. "However, I will obey my father's commands and speak no more of these accusations."
When Daeron had finished, Daemon stirred to speak, but Viserys cut him off with a glare.
"My son, your misplaced loyalty to those who would commit treason is not an act of goodness but a betrayal of where your true allegiances should lie. I am disappointed in you."
Viserys stood, addressing them all. "I am not blind to the rancor between my wife and my daughter. I am not blind to how you divide my noble lords among you, making them wear colors to proclaim allegiance. At every turn, at every occasion, you both seek to drive a wedge that would shatter this realm." Viserys shook his head. "I am at my wit's end. My reign has never been more secure or stronger than it is now, and yet my family has never been more broken or heart-wrenching."
He looked at Daeron. "You have erred and will be penalized for it, but I will not have my blood maimed for the actions of an impressionable child. You will be removed from the fosterage of Oldtown." Viserys glared at Lord Ormund. "You, my lord, have utterly failed the sacred trust I placed in you. Were it not for your uncle's exemplary service and the love I bear for my wife, you would suffer greatly."
He took another deep breath, and returned his gaze to Daeron.
"You will be fostered with Lord Isembard Arryn. He is a shrewd man who has done well to prepare his nephew in the ways of the world, and I hope he can do the same for you. Your dragon, however, will remain in the Dragonpit until I am satisfied that you have grown from a willful and foolish boy to an earnest and astute man."
Daeron's face had fallen when he heard the news.
"Until Lord Arryn has reported to me that you are dutiful and obedient in his house, you will be forbidden access to quill and parchment. No ravens will be sent on your behalf, nor will you be allowed to see any letters from your family. I am also commanding the rest of my kin not to visit you in Gulltown. You will have solitude, away from the squabbles and lurid gossips of court."
The boy shrank in on himself but did not raise any objection. Daemon looked furious, but the rest of the black-clad group did not seem to harbor strong feelings about the decision. Otto nodded and gave him a brief smile. Ormund looked relieved, though that faded as he glanced toward Laenor's impassive expression, while Aemond was scowling.
"As your King, this is my final decision on the matter. I will have no more bickering over it, no more talk of it." He looked at Aemond. "I will give Daeron a day to say his farewells, and then you will fly him to Gulltown."
Aemond nodded, and Viserys dismissed them. Daemon stalked out, tight-lipped and angry. The rest filed out slowly, and Viserys held back his Hand. As they departed, Viserys's ears picked up Lucerys saying, "I can't wait to return to Dragonstone. I bet Arrax will have grown even more. When he's able to carry me, I'll fly with him every day!"
And so it continues for another generation.
He turned to his Hand. "Otto, your nephew would be wise to depart King's Landing with haste, but that is not why I have waylaid you. Too many people at the feast overheard. Have Larys find anyone who tarnishes my daughter's virtue with their gossip. Not anyone merely repeating rumors, but those who proclaim it or speak of it as if it were true." Viserys's face was grim. "They will be made an example of, and not just by having their tongues ripped from their mouths."
Otto bowed his head. "As you command."
"And Otto, while there will be no formal announcement, let Larys also ensure that all know my son was given leniency for cooperating with the crown and was foolishly repeating treason he had heard upon his arrival in the city."
"I shall see to that as well. Your Grace, for what it's worth, I think you struck a wise balance. My grandson deserved worse, but I had no desire to see him maimed. I am moved by your mercy. Thank you, and as always, I stand ready to serve in any capacity."
Viserys smiled at his closest friend and advisor. He often rued the bitterness that had descended upon his blood, but he thanked the Gods that, at least, they had given him such a steadfast friend to act as his Hand.
This dreadful business is at an end. The only silver lining was that at least my precious daughter had already left the feast before these events. Her memories of her joyous day will remain pure and bright as they should be.
Viserys knew that Elaena had grand plans for Golden Tooth and deserved time with her husband, but he was already missing her. Would a fortnight be too soon to request a visit? Perhaps he should give it a full month.
Perhaps it is I who should tour some of my realm. I could travel to Golden Tooth and see what the Realm's Blessing and her ideas had wrought. Hmm, a diverting thought, and I'm sure Otto can keep the Seven Kingdoms running for a couple of months without me.
***
Aegon was exhausted after the wedding and feasting. Well-wishers had to be handled properly; this was his time to act in a kingly fashion with lords who did not often visit King's Landing. This could be his only opportunity to interact with them. The pressure and stress of trying to remember details about every lord who greeted him had worn on him, but he thought he did as well as he possibly could.
Helaena was cheerful and pleasant, clapping along with the music. Their dance was more playful than formal, but it had caused no harm. With his wife being only ten and three, allowances were made. Elaena had pre-planned her departure. Aegon and Helaena had done the same, though they simply retired to Aegon's rooms rather than flying away from the city.
Sometimes I wish I could just fly away from it all. I do not yet feel love as a man should feel for his wife, but in time I believe it will grow. Would that keeping Helaena happy be my only concern.
At times, he wished he had not been born before Aemond. His brother concerned him. Aemond was arrogant, but his cunning mind and impressive skill with the sword justified that arrogance. He was better read, spoke other languages better than Aegon, and had the second-largest dragon in the Seven Kingdoms. Were Aemond the eldest born, Aegon thought the task of the Greens would have been far easier than with himself vying for the crown.
But what kind of King would he make? Life holds no special value to him; not even withstanding his actions in Dorne, he has ever argued against any moral principle binding the actions of those superior. According to him, only whence the costs outweigh the benefits for Targaryens should their hand be stayed from an action. It is the ultimate expression of self-interest unencumbered by humanity. I can neither allow my half-sister to reign, nor my full-blooded brother. Only I can save this realm, more's the pity.
He and his wife left their chambers and went to take their morning meal. They joined Daenora, who began telling them an outlandish tale about what happened after they left. But as his sister continued, Aegon's face paled, and he suddenly lost his appetite.
"I need to find out what is happening."
Helaena scrunched up her face, "So long as no one lost an eye, it is but a temporary goodbye."
I hope I will one day understand half the things she speaks. Does she mean to say that it could have been worse?
He decided to take her... optimism? Her attempt at reassurance? At face value. Helaena ever spoke what was on her mind, anything on her mind, but she did care and Aegon figured that her strange jests or fanciful thoughts were just how she showed it.
So he gave her a small hug and thanked her for the reassuring thought, for in a twisted way it was reassuring, which earned him a little smile in return.
As Aegon hurried on, he saw that his family had already exited the throne room and was headed back to the Royal Apartments.
"What happened?" Aegon asked.
"Not here," his mother hissed.
Aegon followed and soon it was just his mother, Aemond, Daeron, and Ser Criston.
They filled him in, and then Alicent whirled on Daeron. "Why not just do what you were told?"
Daeron's eyes narrowed. "You would ask me to let some Septon or Maester bear the weight of words they did not utter?"
"The Arryns do not love our cause. Do you think they will report well on what you do there? Do you think you will see hide or horn of your dragon, or any of your family? To think the Maesters thought you clever—hah!" His mother was pacing, angry and upset. "You are fortunate that your father is still so soft-hearted. A stronger King would have done far worse. Ser Criston, take Daeron to his rooms and see that he remains there."
"Mother, I am sorry for the trouble I caused, but may I please see Tessarion first?"
"No."
Aegon stepped in. "Mother, do not be cruel. He will be separated from her for long enough. If my brother leaves abruptly, Tessarion will sense it through their connection and become confused or dangerous to handle. But dragons can understand our words and feelings in part, so Daeron saying goodbye will calm her."
"You lot and your damn beasts. It is what provokes your arrogance, what makes you think you can defy all law and custom. If Daeron were not a dragonrider, do you think he would have dared act the way he did? No…"
Aemond interrupted, "But he is a dragonrider. Something you will never understand. Go Ser Criston, take Daeron to the Dragonpit."
His mother looked outraged, even more so when Ser Criston acknowledged the order, "Yes, my prince."
Like a fish out of water, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms gaped as Ser Criston led Daeron away.
Aemond dropped into a chair and propped his feet up.
"Mother, you are acting erratically. Do you wish for your son's final day here, before being gone for years, to be filled with anger toward you? Be more rational, and perhaps your sons won't disobey you."
Aegon frowned at his brother. "Aemond, you go too far." He turned back to his mother. "He is right in that you do not know what it is like to be a dragonrider. The connection is not like man to cur or man to horse; it is deeper. This is safer and better for all."
Alicent's eyes flashed with rage, but she mastered it.
"We should not quarrel with each other, not with every hand already against us," she finally said. She smiled at Aegon. "You did well at the wedding. Quite the counterpoint to Rhaenyra. Did you consummate the marriage?"
"Yes, there was some blood and pain, but it passed, and Helaena said she had expected it and 'twas not as bad as her fears," Aegon smoothly said, his practiced lie slipping easily from his tongue.
"Good, hopefully she will quicken with the child soon. You must continue to show the realm why you should be King. Our allies will begin to waver if you are not strong."
She turned to Aemond. "And Aemond, it will be up to you to secure a match at Storm's End. Borros is a vain oaf. Flatter him, marry his eldest, and you will be the next Paramount Lord of the Stormlands."
"Assuming his wife doesn't give birth to a son, that is," Aemond replied wryly.
"She's birthed only daughters; most likely, she won't. But even so, Baratheon shares kinship with Rhaenys, yet he is not fond of the idea of a ruling Queen. Your task is to bring him to our cause regardless."
"I shall see what I can do, mother."
Aemond does not wish to wed someone he considers unworthy. Unless one of Baratheon's daughters has strong wits, I fear my brother will not accept the match. And Aemond will not be made to do anything, for without his dragon, our cause is done before it can even begin.
"What of Daenora? Can she bring us an ally as well?" Aegon asked.
"Your grandfather is looking for someone suitable. There is thought to match her with Qyle Martell, but this may drive away the Stormlands. Another alternative would be Kermit Tully and bring the Riverlands to your side," his mother explained. "Uthor and Baelon are too young, but as they grow older other opportunities may present themselves."
"They don't have dragons, so it will matter little," Aemond remarked. "I have read the lore of dragons and their fertile nature. It is possible Dreamfyre will lay more eggs now that my siblings are a match. Silverwing may also yet lay more eggs herself. If this happens, we must secure them for our brothers before the Blacks lay claim, as they just recently did."
Alicent nodded, "It will not matter much, for even if a dragon hatched now, it would be more than a decade before relevancy. But still, one cannot have too few of those beasts."
Aemond scowled, but for once did not seek to argue. Aegon looked at the two of them and held back a sigh. The path ahead was twisted and perilous, and at the end of it was the Dark Storm. No matter how many nobles were won over, would it even matter? But what choice was there? His mother had made it clear the extinction their line would face if Rhaenyra sat the throne. The very best they could hope for in that event would be exile to the Night's Watch and separation from their dragons. And given the recent events and the deep enmity between his mother and half-sister, that was likely too optimistic.
Win or die. Those are my choices.
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