Main Content
Archive of Our OwnArchive of Our OwnLog In
FandomsBrowseSearchAboutWork Search
tip: austen words:10000-50000 sort:title
Actions
Entire Work ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Chapter Index Comments Share Download
Work Header
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Fandoms:
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)
Characters:
Tanya von DegurechaffViserys I TargaryenRhaenyra TargaryenSyrax | Rhaenyra Targaryen's DragonAlicent HightowerOtto HightowerAegon II TargaryenLaenor Velaryon
Additional Tags:
WarOriginally Posted Elsewhere
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2024-02-24Updated:2026-05-20Words:319,557Chapters:58/?Comments:1,548Kudos:3,726Bookmarks:1,072Hits:221,375
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 48
Notes:
As always, a huge thank you to MARch_Of_Time for their editing and improvements!
Chapter Text
Chapter 48
"Once you're in the game, you have to give it your all for a chance of victory." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 7
Rhaenys landed Meleys in the indicated location, easily spotted from above thanks to the deep crimson flags lining the spot. After landing she saw that her son was waiting for her. She dismounted and observed a retinue of knights in the area. Two fell in at a respectful distance and escorted her and her son up to the Golden Tooth.
"I suspect you wouldn't want a wheelhouse, but I can have them signal for a mount if you'd like."
"Nonsense, I am not so old that a short walk will tax me."
Her son smiled warmly and they embraced. It was good to be away from King's Landing. She worried that this new city being built would turn into another midden of stenches, but as of yet only the smell of dragon and flowers greeted her.
Her son had some bags around his eyes, though he looked healthy enough, and wore a regal black and blue cut that honored both House Targaryen and the sea. He proffered his arm to her and they strolled toward the gates.
"You are worried over the birthing? I had not heard the Maesters give cause for concern."
He shook his head. "No, I am sure Elaena will be fine. It is my wife that vexes my thoughts."
"Ah." She said it simply and let the silence hang for a moment. If he wished to speak of it, he would, but she would not intrude into their affairs.
After several moments, he spoke. "She has not taken her exile to the Eyrie well. Worse, she blames Elaena. I fear a schism between the sisters. I have tried to get her to see reason… but I have fallen short."
"Give your wife time, Laenor. She is unused to not having her way. A bond between siblings is hard to break. See how my good-son ever tries the King's patience, and yet penalties applied are moderate and oft forgiven."
Laenor sighed. "Perhaps. I worry that I am not the right… sort to speak to her. Outside of you and Laena I never have been adept at forming bonds with the opposite sex."
Rhaenys laughed. "Oh my dear boy, do not sell yourself so short. Despite your fearsome reputation, the maids and staff within High Tide think fondly of you. Your refined tastes catch many an eye even if you would not reciprocate. There is more to relationships between man and woman than amorous attraction." She tilted her head to look at him in the face. "Your bond with gentle Elaena is further proof that you can form ties with women. Do not sell yourself short."
Laenor's face twisted in a peculiar way.
My poor conflicted son.
"I'll not argue with you about it, mother. But I had hoped that perhaps someone else, like yourself, could visit her and help her see reason. Get her to relent regarding the dragon egg."
She pondered that thought for a time. Rhaenyra and her were not close. The open way she gave Laenor horns could have been a disaster had her son's reputation not soared to dizzying heights thanks to the Stepstones war. In truth, her son's valor and efforts had oft mitigated the princess's shortcomings, turning many a political peril into boons. It left a sour and conflicting taste upon her tongue to see the imbalance time and again. Laenor's bold actions had nonetheless proven his counsel wise over the years, but Rhaenyra was stubborn, and sometimes attempts to move a stubborn person only made them more resolute in their obstinacy. Even when presented with wise counsel - one need only look to her grandfather and cousin to see that bitter truth. Rhaenys tired of that battle long ago.
"I do not think it will aid your cause, but I will consider it. Has Elaena made mention of her frustration regarding not having an egg for her babe?"
Laenor shook his head in negation.
"Then I suggest you let the matter lie. Elaena will be resting and enjoying the early days of motherhood. She will not be nursing grudges. While she is not as fragile as some believe, she is one who cares deeply for her family. Her desires for peace between the realms are mirrored in her attempts to minimize discord among the Greens and Blacks. Further, I can personally attest that she has ever maintained a settled mind and calm demeanor. She is not one to react unduly."
Laenor muttered something that she did not quite catch, a dark flicker to his faintly-bruised eyes.
"What was that?"
"I… 'tis nothing. Just an idle frustration. The boys miss their mother and I do not wish tension to further fracture us."
Rhaenys let the deflection be, but considered her son in silence for a time. Perhaps he felt Elaena too calm, too peaceful and accepting. It was well known how protective Laenor felt and acted of her, having oft defended her from a crass and brutish sort like Daemon. That even before she helped save his life.
No wonder he is so conflicted, to see the one he holds such gratitude for slighted with this pettiness by his own wife.
They arrived at the gates and Laenor led his mother to Lord Lefford, who greeted Rhaenys warmly.
"Princess, you are always welcome under this roof. A pity Lord Corlys could not attend as well. I have fine rooms prepared, and you shall want for nothing while in my home."
"My thanks, Lord Lefford, you are too kind. I would first see Princess Elaena."
Golden Tooth had always had wealth, but Lefford had clearly decided to showcase it more prominently with all the notable guests arriving. Fresh portraits of his son and Princess Elaena hung upon the walls, quite exquisite works at that. Tapestries and curtains worthy of the finest keeps adorned and emphasized the walls and decor. Fanciful stained glassworks and windows could be spotted reflecting light around the rooms in stunning ways. Filigree of gold lined nearly everything, along with a dash of silver. Even the candle fixtures had precious gems embedded within them, more oft than not affixed and shaped with the image of dragons.
Rhaenys noted also the number of armed guards. Knights in the livery of House Lefford were stationed by staircases and doorways. Their hands were loose at their sides, and they did not slouch or lean. They weren't quite perfect, as their eyes tended to wander from notable to notable as opposed to affixing their gaze forward, but they were a sight better than the Gold Cloaks or other household guards.
She entered the large sitting room, and a guard quietly announced her. Elaena was seated across from Aemond Targaryen, upon a large cushioned chair that seemed to nearly swallow her within itself, while a Cyvasse board occupied the table between them. Round with child, it had not dimmed her beauty in the slightest. Her lengthy and vibrant hair still fell immaculately, while her sapphire-like eyes seemed to twinkle as she looked up at Rhaenys.
"Princess Rhaenys, thank you so much for coming. Your presence gladdens my heart and eases my spirit."
She reciprocated the smile – how could she not? Elaena embodied everything a princess ought to be, her greeting suffused with sincerity. In the moment before she replied, she noticed Aemond divert his countenance from the table, offer a respectful nod to Laenor, and then return his focus to the board.
"I would not miss it; you have been a great comfort to my daughter during her trials in the birthing bed. She passes on her love and regrets that matters of state in Tyrosh have prevented her coming."
Aemond's frame twitched at those words.
"Oh, is that the reason?" His words, languid yet shy of a drawl, bore the subtlety of a Baratheon hammer.
"Behave, brother. Quarrel, and I'll not grant you another turn ere you depart."
"Who says I need another? I have you this time."
Elaena offered a polite laugh as Rhaenys scrutinized the board. The game, one that had swiftly risen in prominence, remained unfamiliar to her. From the pieces set aside, she surmised they were evenly matched.
Elaena gestured toward an open chair.
"You are welcome to sit and converse; it will not distract me, and I am curious about what transpires at court."
Rhaenys sat down and began to speak of the minor happenings and proposed actions the small council were looking to take. She kept her words neutral and did not speak ill of Aemond's grandfather and his unceasing efforts to wrest the tiniest advantages for his cause. They talked of Elaena's birthing and how she was handling it, and the poised princess said that it would not be long now and that she was looking forward to greeting her firstborn.
Is her confident visage and bearing thanks to her training, or is she truly not concerned? I can see no tremors in her hand as she confidently moves the variety of pieces on the board, and her voice does not catch. But I wonder.
***
Alicent was caught off guard that her daughter was handling the pending birth so well. The Maesters said the labors would most like begin soon, and Alicent had ensured Lord Lefford's swiftest raven was sent to King's Landing. Alicent and her husband did not always agree nor know each other's mind on things, but she knew he would be most vexed if he missed his daughter's birthing. Elaena, however, had reckoned it would likely be three days, but urged the letter be sent nonetheless.
All this talk of Elaena being deathly afraid of the birthing bed was so many words in the wind. She dreads losing others, never herself.
Alicent did feel she was being a bit too blasé over the whole affair. It was always wise to carry a seed of doubt, so should the worst befall – such as the babe not surviving the birthing, or being born with some affliction like Maegor – it would not shatter her. Daemon's unfortunate spawn had been spotted by Alicent a few times. He scampered about rather well for one of his stature, and the one time he had noticed her, his etiquette was proper and he called her, 'Your Grace.' But the thought of a child like that being born of her daughter's womb was a dreadful and unnerving prospect.
On the matter of worries, Elaena's husband did enough fretting for the pair of them; he looked downright haggard and was always in motion, either turning over a stone in his hand or pacing across the floor.
The heir to Golden Tooth was likeable enough, but his constant presence was growing irritating. Only Elaena looked upon his stress with indulgent eyes or to offer a reassuring hand, so there was naught to be said. Yet it was better him than Jacaerys in the room. That bastard claimant was courtly enough, but Alicent could never forget his befouled blood. How could she, when just looking upon his face made it evident.
Surely the Seven would never allow a bastard such as him to sit the Iron Throne? The Father would not let such an injustice occur.
It wasn't anything he did – it was what he represented. The pawn that had to be removed. The line that must be ended. Staying in close proximity to him, especially when he was perfectly respectful, gave her a sense of unease. As if her following her father's plots were somehow wrong. It was foolish, but the thought lingered.
"Are you rising again, Elaena?" Alicent asked as her daughter did rise from where she had been reading a book. "You mustn't strain yourself."
Her daughter just smiled, a gentle and kind smile, but her gaze was as indulgent as the one for her husband. "No need to fret, both I and the babe are fine. I am in correspondence with the Archmaester of Silver, and he agrees that rising from time to time and moving about is not only safe, it may even be healthier."
Alicent wasn't so sure of that. She kept a high opinion of the Maesters, but they had not saved her husband's first wife, and they had once thought Elaena would die in her cradle. She had given birth seven times and knew how utterly draining each could be. Elaena's ever-present confident outlook betrayed no sign of strain, but Alicent wondered.
Be it claiming a dragon, falling down stairs, or staring down the Rogue Prince, she always presents a serene face. While appropriate for court, it has always felt odd how it never drops, even among close family.
"As you say, but I will walk with you."
"My thanks, mother."
Alicent felt the warmth of her daughter's hand and in the term alike. Though Elaena carried none of her blood, she was her daughter in truth. She still thought it a shame that Elaena had not married one of her own children, but as Alicent was not a Targaryen herself, she could understand the squeamishness over marrying a blood-relation. Aegon and Helaena did not seem to mind, but they were not as worldly nor as knowledgeable as Elaena had been. No doubt she had read texts that forbade the practice of incest, ere anyone thought to explain that the Seven had blessed the Targaryen line as an exception to that rule. Once the notion took root that it was wrong, it likely could not be undone, and so she chose to marry Lefford.
They strolled at a stately pace, Ser Criston and two Lefford knights close at hand as they ventured forth. The weather was mild, with only a touch of wind – enough to cool, but not to muss their hair or garments. Her daughter looked at once both radiant and at peace framed against the backdrop of pleasant nature and scenery.
Alicent smiled a true and joyful smile, rare in these years, as she directed her gaze out and down over the lands.
"These lands are good, you have done well, Elaena. The new city seems to be progressing swiftly."
"Thank you, and it moves forward apace. Sometimes, starting afresh allows for quicker progress. Attempting to fix the drainage and institute a proper waste-disposal system in King's Landing would be costly and difficult. Setting it here, now, ere the true foundations of the city are laid, allowed our abundant labor to be put to use effectively."
Alicent knew the freed Tyroshi slaves had caused problems elsewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, but much less so in the Westerlands. It seemed, however, that they were especially dedicated here, and that her daughter was well pleased by the results.
"I am told that your child will not have a dragon egg?"
"Have you been speaking with Kevan?" Elaena wore an amused smile. "Perhaps I am the only one who does not have qualm with this. I am disappointed, naturally, but there are other options as time progresses. Silverwing, Viktoriya, or perhaps Dreamfyre will lay a clutch again, I am sure. And if not, when the child comes of appropriate age, we can simply find a dragon."
Alicent supposed it was good her daughter was not distressed at the situation so close to the birth. But she could not resist getting in some gentle needling of Rhaenyra's follies.
"Naturally Daenora and Helaena would never deny you; they adore you and would never forbid your children aught."
Elaena gave a small laugh. "Mother, my sister is not here, you can cease your war with her for the duration."
Alicent looked down, slightly shamed. "You are right, forgive me."
"'Tis already forgotten. Come, I'd like to show you a project that Selene has been working on."
Alicent let Elaena's words wash over her. For a moment, they could just be parent and child, as opposed to Queen and princess. The scheming for tomorrow could be set aside for the peace of the present.
***
Aegon had arrived earlier in the day along with the King, Helaena, Daenora, and Daeron. The image of his wife's hair all blown about and tangled after the flight had struck a chord in his heart. Perhaps it was due to the novelty, but he found the ruffled look quite fetching on her, and had made his affections known. Viserys preferred to ride Dreamfyre or Vermithor, as they were more stable than Sunfyre compared to his smaller stature.
They were greeted by the Kingsguard, who had ridden ahead with the Queen in preparation for his father's arrival, along with an honor guard of Lord Lefford's men. He wondered whether they had waited all day or if they knew how long a flight like that would take.
Aegon had visited his sister, who was now in the birthing room, though no sign of her labors had begun. She promised him that she was well, and that he should not worry. Helaena had said the same, but it was hard not to. Elaena had been a powerful fixture in his life for so long that it was dreadful to even contemplate what it would be like if she suffered the same fate as her mother.
The welcoming feast for the King was grand. Trencher bread soaked with rich gravies was passed along the tables, and joints of roasted boar, still steaming, were carved beneath garlands of herbs. Spiced apples and honeyed walnuts lay heaped in silvered bowls; their sweetness would be a welcome contrast to the meat. Ewers of dark wine and small beer never stopped flowing, carried by hurried servants, some of whom were Tyroshi, but their service was as impeccable as any Westerosi.
Nearby lords had also arrived, and Lord Lefford was a genial host. At the start of the feast, he had risen, bowed to the king and then toasted him.
"It is an honor to have you beneath our roof, Your Grace. Ser Kevan begs pardon for his lacking attendance of the feast, for we have just been advised that my good-daughter has begun her labors. She asked me to add that it will be many hours yet, and that any who wish to provide comfort to her must first see to their own needs and ensure they have dined."
Aegon gripped his chair, his concern evident. Helaena placed a comforting hand within his, and leaned somewhat into his shoulder.
"My love, she will be well." His dear wife's gentle whispers brushed against his ear, her tone so mournfully sweet and kind, "She is the strongest of us all."
Thoughts of his wife's words were set aside as little Maegor stood upon his chair.
"I'm going to be a big brother!"
Aemond gave a strangled guffaw, and an awkward silence fell over the table. The boy was a dwarf with only one eye, and it was said he bore scales beneath his clothing. Many held that Elaena had done a great kindness for Daemon and Laena by fostering the boy. But the idea that he would be elder brother to a potential heir of Golden Tooth was a disturbing and fanciful notion, only not a grave insult due to his age and unfortunately self-evident unsuitability.
The King raised his cup. "Maegor, my nephew – your enthusiasm is felt by us all. Come now, all of you, raise your cups in honor of a child's longing for sibling affection."
Aegon did so and smiled at the boy. Aemond raised his, but only a fingerbreadth above the table, and the various lords lifted their cups at the King's command. Some wore stoic expressions, others offered pitying smiles – and a few were even bold enough to appear offended by the King's command.
Daeron spoke softly, but sharply in Aemond's ear and the two looked ready to argue, but Daenora poked Aemond's side with her fork. Slightly amused at his siblings hectoring Aemond, Aegon thought it would serve his reign well if Daenora and Daeron had the ability to minimize Aemond's… unique charms.
Amiable conversation passed as Lefford eagerly regaled the King with the progress made in the new city – new mines opening, roads newly built and the like. When a lull occurred, Aegon's mother cast her gaze to where Laenor and Jace sat. "Jacaerys, where are your siblings? Did they not wish to see Princess Elaena?"
He looked surprised but quickly recovered. "Your Grace, thank you for asking about them. They were eager to do so, but they intend to visit later, once the infant has put some weeks behind his or herself. It would be too much of a burden on their studies if they stayed here for months, and they would rather interact with the babe and mother during that time."
A good response, better than saying they weren't trusted enough to avoid provocation from Aemond. That the Dark Storm trusts you means that you are maturing and trusted enough. I wish you were less competent than you appear, if only to reduce the waste and loss from conflict. Truly, the situation is enough to turn my stomach as it is.
"That is wise," the King said. "I too wish to spend time with my grandson or granddaughter. I'm sure Otto can handle matters within King's Landing easily enough while I am gone. Why stay for a week or two when we can make it months?" He glanced over at his wife. "What do you think, Alicent?"
"I never regret time with Elaena," Aegon's mother replied, expression almost refreshed.
Rhaenys, Laenor's mother, flashed irritation across her face for a moment before it dissolved into equanimity. Lefford looked honored, while his seneschal blanched.
Feeding and hosting the King has its costs. Though, if I know Elaena, she'll arrange for her good-father to be reimbursed out of the treasury.
Aemond grinned. "Well, if we intend to stay awhile, it would be entertaining to see how well the son of the Dark Storm fares in the practice yard. What do you think, father? Shall your children and grandchildren compete for a blessing from you?"
The King nodded. "Aye, but it will be overseen carefully, and none of your sharp tongue shall be heard. You are skilled with the blade, my son; let it do the speaking only."
Aegon was annoyed. He had worked hard to improve his swordsmanship, yet Aemond always bested him. He was older than Jace, who was now ten-and-two, which would make it all the more humiliating if he lost.
Lord Reyne stood. "A fine idea to see our princes clash in the yard. With the King staying longer, why not host a tourney here? I shall be more than willing to put up a worthy prize for the winners. It is past time we had some of our princes knighted! Aemond has already faced battle, and both he and his brothers may be deserving of knighthood if they perform well!"
"A fine idea!" Aegon's father agreed.
Rhaenys objected. "Your Grace, it would take time to bring knights from other lands. Why not delay and host one in King's Landing, with proper time for knights to gather?"
"Princess Rhaenys always provides sound wisdom," the King agreed, "but there is no hurry. A delay will give time for my sons and grandson to prepare. The realm is at peace, we can afford to hold a court of sorts here for the next six months."
More lords and knights applauded the decision, but it was clear the Blacks were not pleased. Jace looked worried, Rhaenys perturbed, and Laenor had an unreadable look in face and body, but his eyes held an almost feral look about them as they darted in multiple directions, it made Aegon's guts clench.
Gods be good, it is like a horse about to throw its rider and stamp him to death. I know not why Ser Laenor does not wish the King to extend his stay, but I fear his control is slipping.
Aegon recalled one of the catechisms taught by Elaena. 'Past performance is no guarantee of future results, but it is indicative of them.' Since Laenor had never broken guest-right, it was likely that trend would continue. The Dark Storm may be an unstoppable and vicious monster when he allowed himself to be, but Aegon surmised his wrath was equaled by his control.
Fear of imminent violence was replaced by worry over his own performance in the upcoming tournament. He was to be the symbol of a proper King, the antithesis of Rhaenyra. Having his brother knighted before him and a lackluster performance would harm that perception.
Gods be good, here I am fretting about a tournament months away when my sister is about to face her worst fear. I can set this worry aside until the babe is born and I know that both mother and child are well. 'Tis not as if I have not done the same for countless other worries that would only trouble Elaena.
***
Is there still no word?" Rhaenyra asked, for what seemed like the dozenth time in the last couple of days.
Rhaenyra was nervously fidgeting as the Maester said that no, no further ravens had arrived. The last had come from King's Landing, saying that the King was on his way to Golden Tooth. She had listened to the old fool prattle on about how some births are swift, while others take days, and that at times, the estimation of when a woman's labors should begin might be mistaken.
As if I have not been with child five times!
With the day of Elaena's birthing approaching, Rhaenyra had begun to grow distraught. If anything went amiss, it would be devastating, and tear at her heart evermore. She should be there. It was Elaena's fault she wasn't, but it pained her nonetheless to be absent. Elaena had always been so terrified of the birthing chamber, and now she faced it without her experienced elder sister.
Jeyne approached. "Your Grace, I have instructed the Maesters to fetch us the moment there is word. I swear to you, save for the Maester, you shall be the first to know how the birthing fares."
The Lady Arryn had been kind and had softened her exile to the Eyrie more than she'd expected. But her efforts had their limits. Rhaenyra longed for Harwin, Laena, and Daemon. She yearned for her children. She missed riding Syrax. There were few souls in the Eyrie, and she was so terribly worried.
Gods please let Elaena live through it. Her and her babe.
Time at the Eyrie had been grievously dull, but now Rhaenyra longed for that dullness to return. It was better than this incessant worry and fear. It was Harwin she longed for most in this moment – he was her foundation, her surest strength, and the one who could best have soothed her fears.
Rhaenyra allowed herself to be led away, and a cup of watered wine was brought to her. After the embarrassing dinner where she had lost her wits, they had gently urged her to temper her libations. She was the heir to the Iron Throne; to be found in her cups while so discomposed imperiled her standing – even if there were few eyes in the Eyrie.
"Shall I fetch the singer? Perhaps a few songs will distract you."
Rhaenyra shook her head. She was in no mood for music.
"Perhaps a warm bath with soothing fragrances? Or dreamwine so that you may rest?"
"No! I want none of those. I desire word of my sister – that is all."
Jeyne sighed, "That is something I cannot give you. Shall I leave you in peace then?"
No… I don't want to be alone.
"Perhaps… just sit with me. Speak of something interesting. I've heard of the savages that at times infest the nearby pass – tell me a tale of how your men slew them in battle, or something of the sort. Just make it stirring, and not something dull like the petty grievances over Gulltown."
Rhaenyra saw a spark of indignation in the eyes of Lady Arryn, but the ruler of the Vale made no further complaint as she began recounting a tale of how the Painted Dogs and the Black Ears had fought against the knights of the Vale. As the story continued, Rhaenyra was struck by a pang of guilt. She recalled only now that Jeyne's father and her brothers had perished fighting the Stone Crows. She had not meant to bring up a sensitive issue as a slight, but only to seek something interesting in which to lose herself.
What would serve me well is a tourney, where I can witness knights fighting with all they have. The rush of jousting knights, the clash of steel in a melee, yes, that would distract me just fine.
Unfortunately, the Eyrie did not boast a large enough garrison, nor a field to conduct a proper joust. They would have to descend the treacherous slope to the Gates of the Moon, and by the time such arrangements were made, word would have arrived about her sister.
She finished her cup and listened with half an ear. Jeyne wasn't a bad tale-teller, but she was no bard. It was better than nothing, and the Paramount Lady of the Vale was clearly trying to show her desire for friendship and a loyal family bond with her. Rhaenyra appreciated that, but it didn't help her in the moment.
As she watched Jeyne's lips move as she spoke, Rhaenyra wondered what it would be like to taste them like she did Laena's. Jeyne was older and not a stunning woman like Laena, but perhaps…
A thought for another day. I cannot flee my fears into a lover's arms whenever I grow afraid. I am the Blood of the Dragon and the Future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I can endure the waiting; Elaena has always been a healthy girl once she grew from her infancy. I can't recall her ever even having a rheum, let alone a serious affliction. She'll be fine. And while I don't wish her the agonies of childbirth, she may yet realize the importance of family and be humbled by her actions against me. The feel of her babe against her skin will make her realize the harm her words have caused me. Yes, she didn't realize the magnitude; otherwise, my loving sister would never have done this to me. I cannot hold too great a grudge against one who acts from ignorance.
Rhaenyra smiled as Jeyne got to the good part about how the cowardly Mountain Clans fled and were run down. Elaena would be well. They would reconcile soon and Rhaenyra could depart from the Eyrie. Everything word work out, it had to.
***
Daenora had reached her tenth name day, and had started out excited to see her new niece or nephew being born. Only it wasn't very exciting, it was rather boring. They had shooed out the menfolk, save for Kevan Lefford, and all that remained were the Maesters, who she supposed were also menfolk, but they didn't count, which was odd to her, but not really important. Besides that, mother, Helaena, Princess Rhaenys, Selene, and Cerenna were there with Elaena.
At first, it was interesting, but nothing was happening. It had been two hours since the feast, and she was just lying there, chatting, occasionally growing silent and closing her eyes. Rhaenys had complimented Elaena's ability to bear the pain with nary a sound. "I simply concentrate on something else, and it eases, but thank you."
Daenora asked questions, like when would her new kin be born, and would it be a boy or a girl. The Maester had glanced at her and ignored her question, but Helaena said it would be several hours yet, but the baby would be there before the dawn.
Elaena had a queer expression on her face, but the head Maester made a huffing sound and said that while that was possible, there was no guarantee.
Before dawn… that could mean another six hours! Agh! Hurry up!
Daenora's mother looked over at her. "Why don't you go let your brothers know that all is well?"
She smiled. "As long as Elaena says she won't do anything without me."
Elaena reassured her, and she left the room and entered the larger sitting area where the boys were waiting. Her father had briefly entered the birthing room and wished Elaena the best, before giving stern instructions to the Maester to wake him from his rest should the babe come, or something else occur. For Aegon, Aemond, Daeron, Jace, and the scary Dark Storm, they had chosen to stay awake.
Ser Criston gave her a nod as she took a seat, observing the game of Cyvasse being played between Aemond and Jace. Aemond was winning, of course – he was renowned as the best in King's Landing after Elaena had moved to Golden Tooth.
"Any word?" Aegon asked her.
"Yes. Nothing is happening, but Helaena says our dearest sister's babe will be here before dawn. Which is so long from now."
"What did the Maesters say?" Aemond asked pointedly.
"He said it might take even longer!"
Ser Laenor chuckled. "Childbirth is like a storm; sometimes they last for days, but no two are alike. Princess Elaena will weather it better than most, however its length."
"We can but place our trust in the Father to be just, and the Mother to be merciful. I have prayed long over Elaena, and in my heart, I know those prayers shall be answered," Daeron said firmly. "Do not fret or worry, all will be well, Daenora."
Aemond snorted as he moved his Dragon across the board, taking an Elephant from a grim-faced Jace, who seemed not to be hearing the conversation at all.
"If you have something to say, brother, say it."
Aemond bore a sidelong smile that Daenora was very familiar with. The tranquility of the room was about to be pierced, and she just barely kept from rubbing her hands in anticipation. Aemond always wrought so much more fun into everything.
"Had you not prayed, would the Father not have been just? The Mother not been merciful?" Aemond asked.
"I do not know, but the Seven-Pointed Star saith that the Seven listen and reward our prayers," Daeron responded.
"How capricious, that the Seven would withhold a safe birth if they do not get enough due from their followers."
Daeron's face darkened. "Are you saying you do not follow the Seven?"
Aemond laughed. "I follow my own path, and need no Gods to chart my course. But I care not to have that argument with you. No, we can presuppose the existence of the Seven for the sake of this discussion. The question is—are you arrogant enough to think that it was your prayers that will tip the balance on Elaena's safe passage through the birthing bed?"
Daeron was about to respond, but then Daenora saw him frown and consider his words. Aemond raised an eyebrow while Jace made another move on the board.
"We, as mortal beings, can never fully understand the ways of the Seven. It is possible that my prayers will make a difference; it is also possible that they will not. But if there is even the slightest chance that they can help, why would you not do the same?"
Aemond barked out a laugh as he moved another piece. Daenora could see Jace's neck grow a bit red as he leaned forward at the board, desperately looking for a way to avoid the all-out assault by her brother's pieces.
"Because it does not. Would you suggest sailors continue wasting salt to ensure a safe voyage on the off chance that it does some good? What a ridiculous notion." Aemond's voice was full of derision. "What should happen if you pray for Jacaerys to be victorious in our match? By all means, do as you like, but do not state something so arrogantly wrong that your 'prayers were answered' when our supremely capable sister makes it through the birthing with nary a worry."
Aegon clapped his brother, Daeron, on the shoulder. "He's just prodding you; you'll learn to ignore his remarks. It will ever be a mystery what he actually believes; he only needles you about it because he knows you will react."
Daenora giggled. That's what made it fun.
"It isn't so bad, and like Elaena says, the more one discusses and debates a topic, the closer everyone gets to the truth," she said with a grin. "So don't spoil it, Aegon. Let them have their spar of words."
Daeron shook his sister. "Apologies, sister, but this is not the time."
Daenora sighed, Daeron seemed so old compared to his age. His dragon was beautiful and she enjoyed flying beside Tessarion with Silverwing, but he was soooo boring and serious. She had thought Aegon was bad, but he was so much worse!
Elaena could take any topic, any story, and turn it into the most fascinating thing for Daenora. Maesters were oft dull beyond belief, but Elaena called their lessons together 'explorations,' and Daenora found it a most fitting word. Like an adventure of knowledge each time! The way her sister spoke and the vividness in her voice captured Daenora's imagination like nothing else, and it made her heart soar whenever Elaena offered congratulations and proud smiles after their discussions together.
With another sigh and the sister who always made the world seem so grand on her mind, Daenora rose from her seat.
"Think of it this way, brother: it has kept us all from our worries, if only briefly. I'm going to go back to see Elaena. Good luck on your match, Aemond."
"As if I need it."
Daenora heard Aegon mutter, "Ass," under his breath as she left. It was enough to bring a final smirk to the corner of her lips.
Upon her return to the room, she waited through the hours of boredom. Waited, for her most amazing sister's sake. For the chance to be first among her siblings to bring the news and greet the babe. Fond memories of Elaena's teachings and stories played out in her mind, while echoes of her sister's voice reminded her of the importance or advantages to patience. Daenora liked many good things, and they often came to those who wait!
Elaena, Rhaenys, and her mother spent most of the time talking. There was a tense sort of air between Princess Rhaenys and her mother, but it was subdued, and neither made an effort to insult or take offense toward the other. Her big sister Helaena was content to draw and stay quiet. Daenora occasionally peeked at the sketches, but couldn't make much out about them.
Despite it taking forever, the Maester announced that the birth would soon be near. Toward the end, it went by quickly – a few quiet grunts and tension from Elaena, just a bit of blood, and the babe was suddenly out. Daenora looked closely, happy to see that the boy looked very healthy and gave a solid cry. Her mother delighted aloud.
"Oh, Elaena, he is beautiful. He has your hair and eyes, but I see Lefford's features all about his little chin. He will be a handsome fellow."
The babe was pronounced healthy and Daenora saw Kevan crying and thanking the Seven.
"You did so well, my love. You did so well, look at our son. Thank you for bringing him to be together with us." He had knelt to hold her in shaky half-embrace, while the babe was tended to before them.
"Have you decided on a name?" the Maester asked.
"Yes," Kevan said, "his name is Fraedrik." Elaena echoed the choice in confirmation with a blended tone of amusement and relief.
Elaena took little Fraedrik back into her arms and to rest against her chest. Daenora was used to Elaena's smiles. They were always pleasant, soft things, carrying subtle hints as to her feelings. But for the first time she could recall, she saw that smile broaden immensely, her whole face so deeply open and expressive. It was one of the most beautiful things Daenora had ever seen.
When that expression turned to her as well, Elaena's joy so free and shared, so inviting, it felt as if Daenora's heart had climbed into her throat whilst tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. The warmth and tingling sense of gladness and bliss they shared as she hugged her sister's side and helped cradle her nephew would linger in Daenora's heart for hours.
Actions
↑ Top ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Comments (49)
Kudos
SpectreN7, littlesavage, Mithimeow, Cassyofa, Condol, El_Rey_De_Amarillo, Bitco8nHaZcker, Astaroth1, Richman_05, Kaz2008, Zacharb, XenoReader, ZRQC05, OpalLil, Vacria, Agustin6996, DarkPetalX, Queeny_Chrysalis, aexulansis, JesusTuba, unknownsecret, Desgod, Lorenats277, shinetur0204, Book_lover12, fumefairy, Jadeturtle123, ThrawnCA, charliehoang, allenismo, Captain_Ironsides, Heatherending, snowy231, Winter_Is_Coming_300AD, Herse, Val_or, ShadeMidnight, 15238, ChillyTuesday, KokomiRain, selerim, FelixTheSax, stabthesoup, summer164, IndifferentDreamer, WatcherOne, PomegranatesAndBones, Snow_Nightshade, Ty_Rex, Kagow, and 1672 more users as well as 2004 guests left kudos on this work!
Comments
Post Comment
Note:
All fields are required. Your email address will not be published.
Guest name
Guest email
Plain text with limited HTML ? Embedded images ( tags) will be displayed as HTML, including the image's source link and any alt text.
Comment
10000 characters left
Footer
About the Archive
Site Map
Diversity Statement
Terms of Service
Content Policy
Privacy Policy
DMCA & TIDA Policies
Site Status
Contact Us
Policy Questions & Abuse Reports
Technical Support & Feedback
Development
otwarchive v0.9.479.2
Known Issues
GPL-2.0-or-later by the OTWMain Content
Archive of Our OwnArchive of Our OwnLog In
FandomsBrowseSearchAboutWork Search
tip: hetalia f/f sort:kudos
Actions
Entire Work ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Chapter Index Comments Share Download
Work Header
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Fandoms:
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)
Characters:
Tanya von DegurechaffViserys I TargaryenRhaenyra TargaryenSyrax | Rhaenyra Targaryen's DragonAlicent HightowerOtto HightowerAegon II TargaryenLaenor Velaryon
Additional Tags:
WarOriginally Posted Elsewhere
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2024-02-24Updated:2026-05-20Words:319,557Chapters:58/?Comments:1,548Kudos:3,726Bookmarks:1,072Hits:221,375
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 49
Notes:
Big thank you to MARch_Of_Time for their assistance!
Chapter Text
Chapter 49
"Surely everyone learns as part of compulsory education in elementary school that all people are born equal. Children are taught that they are all equally unique and irreplaceable. But it isn't hard to find disparities that contradict those familiar maxims." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 1
Aegon was not well versed in the duties mothers had with babes, nor in the level of exhaustion that came with childbirth, but he was eager to discuss his concerns about Helaena. He made inquiry with Ser Kevan to see when Elaena would be up for a longer discussion of import. The heir to Golden Tooth had said she would be ready for a conversation, as a meeting with her brother surely had to be less straining than reviewing reports merely a day after giving birth.
My sister embodies the lessons she taught us. Effort shapes outcomes.
Elaena met him in her sitting room. She looked as poised as ever, complexion clear and expression relaxed; none would have thought that just days ago she had faced the birthing bed. Her long hair, worn looser than usual, was perhaps the only clue.
"Brother, my gatekeeper informs me you wished to speak with me about something of import?"
"Gatekeeper?" Aegon asked with a wry smile.
"He is overanxious about my strength and wants me to rest more. I've told him I am more than well, and that boredom will cause more harm than a lack of rest. Even proofs of my continued mental acuity are not enough, but I digress. My husband means well, and 'tis not a burdensome thing to have someone care for your health."
Aegon took a seat. "I am glad you are well, and I do hate to burden you. But I know not where else to turn. The Maesters have not been able to solve the situation. I'm constantly worried over it, and…"
"Aegon, slow down and start with the problem."
Aegon took in a slow breath and centered his thoughts. "Helaena. I worry for our sister's health. We have taken your advice and avoided activity that would lead to a child, but I do sleep beside her. Her rest is broken with frequent nightmares – no, not nightmares, night terrors – that take her wits from her. She screams and thrashes, and speaks nonsensical impossibilities. We've given her dreamwine, and at times even milk of the poppy. I have been warned of long-term use, but the Grand Maester has not given us any good alternatives." He could not help the tinge of frustration coloring his voice, despite his efforts at controlling it. It ever seemed there were no good options, and torment to his wife was torment of Aegon's own.
Elaena frowned. "The long-term use of those substances, especially while she is still maturing, is not recommended. You say that she thrashes and that her wits abandon her. Has she harmed herself during these episodes?"
He shook his head. "Not significantly, but she says crazed things and strikes at those who try to calm her and give her the dreamwine."
Those piercing blue eyes locked onto to his. Elaena leaned subtly forward, posture upright and elbows upon her desk, hands slowly rising before her chest to form a small steeple with her fingertips.
The moment was one of deliberate and hanging silence, wherein the hairs on Aegon's nape rose and tingled.
Her eyelids fell ever so slightly lower, and she did not blink once as she regarded him.
"Why must she be given a draught, if she does herself no harm?" Her tone now held a measure of ice.
After a passing confusion, he found his voice amidst memories of terror in the night, and the pain in his heart lingering in his own nightmares.
"For fear her delusions may drive her to harm. You have not seen it… she is beyond control during those episodes. She does not seek to hurt herself, but at times she tries to flee the room. She could easily fall down the stairs or come to harm unwittingly. When lost in her dreams, her thrashing is alarming, and I fear she will strike her head against the bedframe. I know not what else to do."
"Does she have any of these episodes other than when she sleeps?"
"No, during the day she is fine, if weary at times. Her spirits were lighter with the arrival of your babe, and we've not had any incidents in a fortnight, but that happens on occasion."
Elaena rose to her feet and began pacing slow, contemplative steps before her desk and around her personal study. The soft silken skirts of her dress swirled in floating, consistent flutters with her every measured stride, the many-layered style Elaena preferred as of late flaring with deep blues and golds like a mantle of effortless grace.
As ever, his elder sister was a living and breathing exemplar of royalty, in every word and deed. It was unfair, truly, but Aegon had grown to accept it as a matter of course.
Even a fluffy and bundled silk dress, one that cradled her form gently for comfort in the privacy of her chambers, Elaena wore like the Kingsguard wore their armor. Yet somehow her presence seemed even more formidable than they.
With those wry thoughts calming him, Aegon's gaze turned to follow her, watching with patience as his sister most renowned for wisdom and insight gathered her thoughts. Upon her face, the same expression worn when a matter held her utmost attention.
One arm crossed below the swell of her chest, the other pressed overtop and up to form a loose fist above her chin, with one finger curled and tapping a gentle rhythm against the plush rosy flesh of her lips.
Lips that quirked into a small frown as she began to elaborate.
"There are a number of possibilities, Aegon. It may be that she is afflicted with some ailment of the body. Or it could be that her mind is gripped by fear of something. I also fear that there is little understanding of how the bond with our dragons may affect our psyche."
"Psyche? Bond?"
She glanced at him. For but the briefest instant, her bright eyes seemed alight with a gripping intensity. "Have you never felt Sunfyre's feelings? His moods?"
Aegon blinked, as such a thing was common to him, to the point of being almost mundane.
"Well, yes, but… what are you saying? That Dreamfyre is to blame?"
"No. Only a possibility. We simply do not know. The first thing we must do is ensure no harm comes to Helaena, either through her terrors or through the attempted cures. The second is that we must document and rule out possibilities. Helaena should be a part of this. Why did she not come with you to speak with me?"
Aegon shifted with discomfort. "I do not wish to create further anxieties. After the Maesters give her draughts to calm her, she rarely remembers her night terrors."
Elaena pursed her lips. "Interesting. In terms of her safety, we may do several things. For one, we could arrange for a bed with additional cushioning around its frame. Two, we could have her wear gloves or even mittens to prevent scratching when she is beyond control. She has not bitten her tongue during these events, has she?"
Aegon shook his head.
"Good. For information gathering, I would have a watch set on Dreamfyre. If she stirs, appears restless, roars, or sleeps, I would have it documented. I also require a detailed journal of every event that takes place. What she says, what she does, what time of night, and the day. I would have her list what she does each day – if she became angry, anxious, tired, or if she flew on Dreamfyre. We require a body of information to work with, to see if aught correlates to these events."
I should have thought of that before. Damn, I should have. Why-
Elaena continued, relentlessly. "Her food and drink as well. Certain types of food can provoke great lucidity in dreams."
"They can?"
Elaena gave him a look, voice tinged with a vague emotion Aegon could not quite pin down. "I cannot empirically prove it to you now, but there are ancient texts that suggest it, and the causality does seem logical."
Aegon wasn't quite catching every word Elaena was using, but he understood the general context of what she was saying.
"You say she speaks nonsensical impossibilities, does that mean she speaks things that do not make sense with words, or is she speaking gibberish?"
"No, they are real words, just… nonsense."
"This is important, is this nonsense where the words do not mean things, or is there a coherent thought, but it is not true to reality?"
"Uhm… well, she speaks of dreaming of things. Of events that have not yet come to pass. Or that Aemond has too many eyes. Or of rats in the dark, coming to cause harm after father is dead. She even speaks of you at times… not always charitably."
"Me?" Elaena asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It is disjointed. She speaks of you and the dangers of the cold. Or of how she sees you swimming in an ocean of blood, grinning all the while." Aegon noticed his sister pause, a rare look of shock showing upon her face. "But at other times, she speaks of how she will be safe with you, and that you would protect her."
His sister's expression returned to its normal smoothness.
"Send for your wife, and I will speak with her. I will arrange for your quarters to be adjoined to mine, and safety precautions will be put in place. The Golden Tooth Maester is competent, if set in his ways, but I will have him aware of the situation in case of an emergency. You were right to bring this to me, Aegon. I cannot make any promises that we can resolve Helaena's issues, but there is ample room for hope."
Aegon gave her a shaky smile. "Thank you."
***
Jace was greatly relieved, and well pleased, by the addition of his cousin Fraedrik to the family. From the first whisper of Elaena's quickening to the moment she was carried to her birthing bed, she had expressed the utmost confidence that all would proceed without complication. That confidence – though some, less generous of spirit, named it hubris – had, in the end, been well warranted. The whole birth had been quite fortuitous, almost blessedly so. The babe was hale, the mother serene, and the father near overcome with pride. It seemed to Jace that Ser Kevan had not been seen once without a broad, near-foolish smile plastered across his features since the day of the boy's safe arrival.
Jace did not begrudge his good-uncle the joy he wore so openly, no, he would not. And yet he found himself envious of it all the same. Of late he had been humbled, and not only once. Both in the training yard and across the Cyvasse board he had been bested by Alicent's children, and though he might call upon age as an excuse, it availed him little comfort. Daeron, the youngest of the brood, had proved himself sharper in both test and trial. He never once mentioned Jace's questionable parentage again, and comported himself with such fastidious decorum that even Elaena might nod in quiet approval. Yet his gaze remained cold, too cold, and carried a weight of judgment that made Jace uneasy.
Though Jace had to admit, if to himself alone, that the core of his unease at such judgement was built upon a disquieting fact. He and his siblings were bastards in truth. Knowing this and still concealing it, still denying it at every turn, while also knowing that others already knew and would disdain him, had been the source of much sleepless anxiety.
With the tournament drawing nigh, Jace feared he might make a fool of himself before the assembled lords and ladies, or worse still, that he might not be permitted to take part at all. He could not say which outcome he dreaded more. To overcome the stains of reputation and rumor, he needed to prove himself able and worthy, beyond reproach if he could. Like his father had done before him in becoming the Dark Storm.
But was he ready? Was he fit and able? Knowing the truth of his situation had revealed the path and first steps he must take, but not how to achieve them. Certainly not after seeing the prowess of the Queen's children.
That night, after the evening feast had been cleared and the great hall emptied, his father, Laenor, called him aside to speak.
"Jace," he began gravely, "we are come to a crossroads. With the King having chosen to hold court here in Golden Tooth, your brothers grow restless without a summoning. And with your mother still at the Eyrie, I need to return to Dragonstone."
"Why are they not coming here?" Jace asked, brow furrowed, perplexed by the decision.
"Because," his father said, and his voice lowered some, "I do not trust Luke not to stir trouble. He has been all too loud in his opinions concerning the Queen's children and your last... encounter. If you wish it, I can take you with me. Yet both your grandmother and I believe it best that you remain. You would do well to spend more time in the King's company. He is too oft surrounded by the Greens, and it would serve you to grow close with Maegor, and with Ser Kevan too, if you can."
Jace frowned, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I don't mind staying, but I fear I will bring shame upon myself in the lists. Could you not stay long enough to train me?"
His father shook his head, the motion slow and regretful. "You shall fare well enough with the Kingsguard. Most of your uncles are older than you. Should you lose, no one will name it failure. This is Elaena's seat, and here you are well guarded."
Elaena? Wasn't it Kevan who held charge over the ever-watchful guardsmen of House Lefford?
"I am not worried for my safety," Jace admitted, "but for my reputation. A poor showing in the tourney can linger far longer in the minds of the realm's nobility than even a grave wound."
His father offered him a fond smile. "I was unhorsed more times than I can count when I was yet a squire. And mark me, the smallfolk recall little save for the final tilts and who bore away the laurels. Train as you must, my son, but keep your wits about you, and let your face be seen often – by Viserys, by Elaena, and by Kevan. Let them remember your name and manner, even if they forget your score."
"I shall do so. But tell me, why such insistence? You seem... strident."
His father began to pace, hands clasped behind his back. "Your mother and her sister are at odds, and gravely so. It is a dangerous thing, not only for her, but for you, and for all who hold fast to your claim. I pray the wounds of the heart may be mended in time, but the last I spoke with Rhaenyra, she was as stubborn as a mule and twice as proud. If her hurt should curdle into bitterness, then I fear it may shake the very pillars of our house."
Jace found it remarkable how his father, so often spoken of as the Dark Storm, the man who feared no blade nor beast, could look so fretful at the prospect of the two women never making peace. That such a thing could evoke unease in his voice was telling. In that, there was a lesson worth remembering. His father, despite the monstrous stories that clung to his name, was a man who felt deeply, and was not diminished by it. When his own time came, when the crown sat upon his head, Jace knew he would remember this moment. He would ask himself what his father would do when it was time to make judgements.
"Will there be any chance that my betrothed, or others from the Tyroshi court, might come now that the royal court is gathered here?" he asked. "They did not attend the birth, but surely Lady Laena would wish to see her son. I... I would like to see Baela again."
Thoughts of his betrothed always brought a smile to his face. While still quite young, she was already courtly and had demonstrated quick wit and the ability to make him and Luke laugh.
Laenor shook his head once more. "I cannot say. My sister fares well at court, but if she comes, Daemon shall most like come with her, and that brings its own peril. They are loath to leave Tyrosh unattended, for they claim their rule there is not yet firmly set. But who can say what tide the coming days may bring? We shall see."
***
Rhaenys listened as her grandchild regaled her with what he had seen in the practice yard. The knights of House Lefford were practicing, and the poor, afflicted boy was living vicariously through them. She loved him, as she did all her blood, but she knew that the world would not. An eyepatch could be worn, distorted skin hidden, but he would always be known as a dwarf.
When even influential and powerful lords who are afflicted cannot find suitable matches, what hope does Maegor have?
She was thinking on Larys Strong, the Master of Whisperers. The gossip within the halls of Golden Tooth was that, at some point, Lord Larys had attempted a match with Lady Selene Falwell. He was the brother of a powerful lord – close, too close – to the heir of the Seven Kingdoms. He sat on the small council and was trusted by the King. And all he had was a clubfoot!
While the world may reject Maegor, Rhaenys knew that he would still be well protected. His father was the Rogue Prince. His mother rode the mighty Vhagar. His uncle was the Dark Storm. He was fostered by the head of the Dragon Bank and a rising power in the Westerlands. Tongues would wag, as they were wont to do, but if they wagged too loudly at the boy's expense, there would be consequences.
"Who do you think will win the big tourney when it comes? I don't mean the squires, but the real one."
Rhaenys looked at the boy. "Your father, should he come, always does well. Ser Criston has bested him and will also participate. The Westerlands will host some formidable knights, many of them young and hungry."
The boy smiled. "If father comes, then mother must come too, right? I really want to see her."
"If she is able, I am sure she will. Both my good-son and daughter, your parents, are busy in Tyrosh." She hesitated. "Are you not enjoying your time at Golden Tooth? Would you prefer to live with me at High Tide?"
"Maybe for a visit, but I like it here. I just want to see them. Aunt Elaena says that I am doing very well with my studies. She says I'm already reading better than most noble children twice my age."
His vocabulary and manner of speech is outside the norm for a child his age. I should ask Elaena if it is her intention to have him become a Maester. That would solve many problems and give him a place in the world. They take far less care for physical hinderances, given the lot of them tend to be ancient or decrepit.
"I'm glad the Leffords' Maester is tutoring you so well."
He let out a giggle more in line with his age than his speech had been.
"They are so slow. They keep thinking I need more practice. I like it more when Aunt Elaena teaches me – especially now that she has me learning about variables."
"Variables?"
He nodded. "Yes, the hidden number to calculate things."
Rhaenys believed she understood what Maegor was saying, but she was curious. Elaena had some oddities in the way she spoke of the world at times.
"Can you give me an example?"
Maegor proceeded to showcase what he had learned using an example of different crops and how he could replace a given number with a 'variable' for ease of calculating. Rhaenys confirmed her suspicions of it and wondered why her fellow well-learned princess was using that term, something Maesters didn't use.
"Do you think you can ask them to come? I really want to see mother again. She'll be happy I'm learning so fast."
"I will send a raven, but I can make no promises. They have a duty to their people, after all."
Maegor nodded. "I know. They fly dragons and stop piracy." He scrunched up his face. "Piracy is evil and creates a drag on profits."
She couldn't quite stop herself from laughing. A drag on profits! Had she not witnessed her daughter give birth, she might well have assumed it was Elaena who had birthed Maegor!
"I'm sure your grandfather agrees, he too dislikes pirates."
Maegor grinned. "When I get older, I want to burn pirates too!"
Given the recent shortage of dragon eggs and the dearth of wild dragons, Rhaenys was not sure how likely it would be for Maegor to ever fly a dragon. Already Elaena's son was without one, a foolish decision by Rhaenyra, but unless a new clutch was laid soon, the problem would likely only grow worse. Who was there to champion the dwarf? Elaena would no doubt want her own son to have a dragon before Maegor.
"A sight to see, I am sure. But come, tell me about what you have read recently. I am curious as to where your studies have taken you."
***
Viserys had not been hunting in several years. It was a noble pastime, and the successful delivery of his newest grandchild had filled him with additional vigor. When Lord Lefford offered to take him on a hunt, he gladly accepted. Along with him were his sons Aemond and Daeron, and his grandson Jacaerys. Ser Kevan and Aegon had both begged off, preferring to spend time with their wives.
Good lads.
"I'm thrilled you agreed to the hunt, Your Grace," Humfrey said with an air of pure contentment. Viserys could only recall meeting the lord a handful of times before his daughter's betrothal to Ser Kevan. He remembered the man as somewhat pompous and self-important, but now he seemed far more relaxed and jovial.
"We keep the small forest well-tended and the poachers out. While it's not so majestic as the Kingswood, it will make for a fine time. Once we've cornered a stag, would you like to do the honors?"
Viserys shook his head. "No need, allow one of the princes the honor."
Aemond, who had been nearby along with the other two princes, spoke up first. "I have no desire for such a trifle."
"You mislike hunting?" Viserys asked, surprised, given what he knew of his son.
"There is little challenge. It would be one thing if I and the others were sent out alone to bring down game without the aid of men and dogs, but as it is, there's little to set ourselves apart in the way this takes place. I leave the task to others who might find honor in such easy duty."
Jacaerys moved his horse closer. "Being selected by the King for an honor, is an honor itself, no matter the ease of the task."
Aemond laughed. "Strong words, nephew."
Viserys gave Aemond a sharp look, but either his grandson did not catch the barbed jest Aemond was making or chose to ignore it. Either was fine for the moment.
"Since he will be appreciative of the honor," Viserys began, "my grandson will have it."
"Father," Daeron interrupted, "perhaps there is wisdom in both approaches. When the stag is flushed toward us, give both my nephew and me the opportunity to shoot. The first to strike the killing blow will win the contest."
A good-natured challenge. I recall how Daemon and I used to race and wrestle against each other. This could help bind them to each other.
"A splendid idea, Daeron. I trust you have no objections, Jacaerys."
"No, Your Grace."
The day was pleasant, the forest not overly thick, and the weight of the sun was eased by the wind that blew between the trees. The Lefford Huntmaster approached. "Your pardons, Your Grace, m'lord, but we may be slightly delayed. The tracks are difficult to follow due to men and horses traversing in numbers of late."
Ser Harrold Westerling furrowed his brow. "Poachers? I was told criminality is not frequent in these parts. We have a strong guard, but perhaps we should proceed more cautiously."
Lord Humfrey chuckled. "No need, Lord Commander. My household knights have combed these woods, and that is precisely why my Huntmaster has struggled. I've taken a number of new knights into my service, many of whom are of low-birth and eager."
Lord Lydden harrumphed. "That does not give me any confidence. I mean no offense, Lord Lefford – I understand the need to keep these Tyroshi rabble in line, but you gave the task of securing these woods to up-jumped smallfolk?"
Viserys frowned. He knew that House Lefford had sworn to service many knights who were his daughter's 'Knights of Victory' and he was sensitive to anyone speaking of ill of Elaena's ideas. Before he could speak, Humfrey defended it.
"Bah, they are loyal, effective, and perhaps due to their low birth, eager to prove their worth. If they are instructed to sweep these woods twice over, they will do it thrice. If a standard guard complement is a knight and a score of levies, then there will be three knights and three dozen levies. I have found no fault in any of my new knights."
Aemond agreed. "Aye, I've amused myself in the training yard, and the knights hold themselves to a high standard. Often people believe that blood is the only factor, but it is a matter of odds. While the average man who comes from noble stock is far superior to the average man who comes from the dirt, there are exceptions to be found. There can be those of noble birth who are blind buffoons, unable to see with any sort of discernment," Aemond tilted his head slightly in Lord Lydden's direction, "and there are smallfolk who exceed expectations far beyond the rest of their ilk. Because the knights sworn to House Lefford were chosen on merit, we know they are the exceptions to the general rule."
Daeron added, "The Seven have blessed House Lefford, and the Crone hath gifted Lord Humfrey and his son with wisdom. I applaud Lord Westerling's caution, yet I hold that we are quite safe."
Viserys beamed with pride. While Aemond still remained as prickly as ever, the boy had a good head on his shoulders. He was not blind to the fact that Daeron and Aemond were at odds since Daeron's return from the Vale, but hearing Daeron stand by his brother made him confident that their childhood bickering would not breed lasting animosity.
The ride had begun pleasantly for Viserys, though as the day lengthened, he began to feel some soreness. Unaccustomed to riding a horse, he called for a halt to stretch his legs and then sit with his feet propped up. The lesser lords of the Westerlands proved somewhat tedious to endure for long stretches, yet none were particularly vexing. After the brief respite, good tidings came from the Huntmaster, and soon enough the stag was cornered and being lured toward their location.
Daeron and Jacaerys had dismounted and were on foot with their bows out. The flushed-out game came dashing into the clearing and Daeron's arrow found the creature's heart. A moment later a second arrow sprouted in the creature's side.
"Well done!" Viserys praised.
Daeron bowed, "Thank you, Your Grace. The Warrior guided my aim."
"It was a good shot, congratulations, uncle." Jacaerys replied, voice even though disappointment was written over his face.
"The Warrior guided your aim?" Aemond said in a cutting tone. "In the North not many follow the Seven and they hunt well. Is it the Seven or your Targaryen blood? Is it the Seven or is it long hours of your own effort devoted to enhancing your skill?"
Viserys saw the younger brother shake his head in exasperation and not rise to the bait.
Jacaerys, however did respond. "Uncle, do you doubt the Seven? I have heard your veiled words a few times, but I charge you now to speak plainly. Do you worship the Seven or no?"
"No, I do not. They are but a fanciful tale, a mere myth," Aemond replied. "Our ancestors wrought the greatest empire known to history without the aid of the Seven."
Several of the lords and knights gasped. The worship of the Seven had never been ordained, yet it was near universal within the Westerlands and the bordering Riverlands.
The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard spoke softly, "You do not wish to be knighted then?"
Aemond shrugged. "In truth, I care not. Knighthood should not be predicated upon belief in fanciful tales, and a prince has ever outranked a knight, so I'll not miss the title."
Jacaerys nodded. "I appreciate your candor, uncle, though I shall be sure to light a candle for the Mother's Mercy on your behalf. It is said that the Queen is very devout, it is a shame you did not inherit that noble trait. My own mother made sure that all her children knew of the importance of the Seven."
Ah, a bit heavy-handed, but my grandson seeks to undermine Aemond and, perhaps, my wife's faction. I see how the Westerlands nobles and knights are nodding; despite his youth, he has read the situation well.
Daeron had his jaw clenched, and Viserys could only sigh at the tension within his family. His mood now befouled, he abruptly declared his wish to return to Golden Tooth with all haste, so as to avoid beginning the feast late.
Actions
↑ Top ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Comments (22)
Kudos
SpectreN7, littlesavage, Mithimeow, Cassyofa, Condol, El_Rey_De_Amarillo, Bitco8nHaZcker, Astaroth1, Richman_05, Kaz2008, Zacharb, XenoReader, ZRQC05, OpalLil, Vacria, Agustin6996, DarkPetalX, Queeny_Chrysalis, aexulansis, JesusTuba, unknownsecret, Desgod, Lorenats277, shinetur0204, Book_lover12, fumefairy, Jadeturtle123, ThrawnCA, charliehoang, allenismo, Captain_Ironsides, Heatherending, snowy231, Winter_Is_Coming_300AD, Herse, Val_or, ShadeMidnight, 15238, ChillyTuesday, KokomiRain, selerim, FelixTheSax, stabthesoup, summer164, IndifferentDreamer, WatcherOne, PomegranatesAndBones, Snow_Nightshade, Ty_Rex, Kagow, and 1672 more users as well as 2004 guests left kudos on this work!
Comments
Post Comment
Note:
All fields are required. Your email address will not be published.
Guest name
Guest email
Plain text with limited HTML ? Embedded images ( tags) will be displayed as HTML, including the image's source link and any alt text.
Comment
10000 characters left
Footer
About the Archive
Site Map
Diversity Statement
Terms of Service
Content Policy
Privacy Policy
DMCA & TIDA Policies
Site Status
Contact Us
Policy Questions & Abuse Reports
Technical Support & Feedback
Development
otwarchive v0.9.479.2
Known Issues
GPL-2.0-or-later by the OTW