King's Landing
98 AC (Twelfth Moon—Day 24)
Viserra VI
The morn broke with sun and cloudless sky, and it was the lively murmur threading through the castle that stole slumber from her. Viserra rose by habit turned to instinct, and in reaching for her cup of water found her hand alighting upon a soft and warm… thing.
She turned at once, only to discover her palm resting full upon a breast veiled beneath silk.
"Never in all my days had I thought to wake to my elder sister fondling my teat," Gael said, her voice brimful of jest. "I must confess, I find the experience less than pleasing."
Viserra snatched her hand away in haste, fixing her sister with a look of scant amusement. "Gael?" she asked. Her violet eyes narrowed at her sister. "What passes here? How came I to this place?"
Was she in dream?
She recalled with perfect clarity falling asleep upon the roof at Maelys's side. That could not have been a dream, surely? Nay, the night remained clear as crystal, down to the draught of sorcerous poison he had quaffed.
Gael sat up as well, looking as though she had never slumbered at all.
"Maelys carried you here after you drifted off, of course," her sister answered, gesturing toward the northern wall of the chamber where the chaise lounge stood. Upon it lay Maelys, naked and yet asleep with silk sheets draped over his modesty. "He said he could not convey you to your own quarters, for that would be most inconsiderate to your lord husband."
And this was not? What would the servants whisper, seeing her borne asleep by another man into his private chambers?
The thought drove her eyes to her own body. She had been disrobed and clad in different garb… larger garb, by the look of it. A sleeping gown. A most… daring sleeping gown.
"It was the only one that fitted you," Gael told her when she shot her a questioning glance.
"And the absence of smallclothes?" Viserra asked. She unconsciously drew the blankets higher. The morning chill pierced even the castle walls.
Her sister rolled her eyes. "You speak as though you had brought any with you," Gael said, and a light accusation was carried in her tone. "Nor had I any fresh pair to spare in my chamber."
Viserra found sudden and absorbing interest in the window that spilled morning light into the room. And if any should ask, though none would dare, she was not in the least flustered by her sister's words.
In her defence, if matters had taken the scandalous path with her brother that she had half hoped for, she had deemed it wise to remove as many obstacles as might be. Lest a stray undergarment buy time for second thoughts.
She slipped from the bed then and stretched her limbs. "Well then, I must not tarry," she told her sister in a voice pitched somewhat higher. Her brother stirred not at all. The damned fool might as well have been dead. "I must return to my own quarters to make myself presentable. I mean to attend court."
Before she could so much as take a step, her sister's hand closed about her wrist like a manacle. "Surely you would not be so witless as to walk forth from here unescorted, and in such disarray?" Gael was delightful. Her intent was anything but. "What would the gossiping maids make of it?"
Not different from what they whispered already, Viserra might have answered. Gods above, when did her sister's grip become iron? She strove to pry the fingers loose, yet gained no ground.
"Unhand me, Gael. I have matters of true import to attend," she near hissed, mindful still not to wake her brother.
"Then I shall go with you," her sister countered. She never loosened her hold over her even then, her smile still sweet as coveted honey. "Nay, we shall prepare together. I have a gown of surpassing beauty laid aside for you. Ylvara shall fetch it shortly."
There was no escaping her, it seemed. Viserra yielded with a sigh. And upon reflection she saw the folly of her first intent; it would have haunted her to know she had brought inconvenience upon her brother, the more so if that inconvenience sprang from deceit.
"Very well," she conceded. "Have it your way."
"Oh, sister, I am certain we shall both take pleasure in it," Gael said, drawing her along.
And as promised, Viserra found much joy in the affair. They broke their fast together, then made their way to the throne room, where it seemed all the nobility of the realm had gathered.
——————
The king's court this day was no common audience but a ceremony, with the great houses and foreign dignitaries alike arrayed in waiting beyond the towering doors that opened upon the throne hall.
She ought to have grown wary then, for the affair wore an air altogether too orderly. Yet it was the court that would herald the tourney's true beginning, and such occasions were never mere frivolity. Lords were ever given to boasting, and her father was no exception.
Announcements and declarations of decrees were to be expected, all the more so when the event promised such grandeur.
Viserra stood at her lord husband's side among those nobles who owed their fealty directly to her father. The distance from her own kin only hardened her resolve to be quit of this station once and for all.
Yet the crownlanders proved no dull company; she found time enough to converse with her niece Rhaenys before the hour came to enter the hall.
And that hour did come, and she had entered the hall with all the regality owed to her birth.
She was announced with her full titles proclaimed in ringing voice, lest the arrogant lords forget she stood far above their presumptuous familiarity.
Then did court commenced in earnest, with all assembled. Viserra was awed by the careful ordering of the nobility, most especially the evident separation of her youngest siblings from the main line of the family. The two were beautiful and proud, clad in shimmering blue that caught the sun's spilled light in a manner most mesmerizing.
And between their place and that of the crownlanders lay a subtle gap. A curious space. She wondered whether it bespoke some discontent. Yet who would dare voice fault with the Twins of Havenhall?
Though she jested, it was truth entire. Maelys might relish a measure of animosity, yet she doubted any such would spring from ill deed. Even Lord Darklyn was not so embittered as to forsake formal dealings and parley with her brother.
Viserra let her gaze wander farther, across the riverlords, the valemen, the northmen, the ironborn, the westermen, and at last to the stormlords and reachmen. There a fracture showed plain, where the houses bordering the sands of Dorne clustered together as one.
Her father would soon face pleas for war, she suspected.
After the septon had concluded his prayer, the king offered his thanks to those assembled. "My lords and ladies, I am most gladdened by your ready obedience to my summons for this tourney, which I have called in honour of the generosity and leniency shown this year to our fair realm. I trust the tourney shall meet with your full favour, and that yet stronger bonds of fellowship may be forged in the days to come. However…"
At those words the low murmurs died away, and a curious hush fell upon the hall.
"…It is not solely to mark the close of the year that I have summoned this tourney," Jaehaerys declared. "Nay, it is for sundry reasons, many of which you may already surmise. Still, I shall name them, if only to enlighten those who remain in ignorance." That drew chuckles from the sides, though few rang wholly unforced.
He continued, her father. "Know this: the royal family, in this very moon, has founded a bank of its own. It shall bear the name of the Dragon's Hoard. This shall be no common bank. No mere vessel wrought to swell our coffers. Nay, it is purposed for building and aiding and bettering the lives of our folk."
The court's attention was seized as though by a spell. Her father spoke with tempered passion, his hands gesturing all the while.
"I know full well that many of you struggle; harvests are never equal. Rather than see the unfortunate toil and bend before copper-counting merchants, I believe this institution shall proffer a far more lenient and less demeaning alternative."
The northmen proved the most receptive to the king's pledge. Viserra herself felt a flicker of interest. Though she could ever rely upon the twins for succor, she was loath to lean overmuch upon them, especially now that they bore an entire fiefdom to raise.
This bank seemed a promising venture. Yet she suspected the leniency of its lending would prove less indiscriminate than her father made it appear.
Projects that would uplift the quality of life within a land would receive the more preferential funding. Maelys had spoken of the like only yesterday, something touching upon social works.
Upon her hand she felt a gentle squeeze. "Your father's words stir the heart, my royal wife," Loras whispered to her. "Already I can envision plans that were stayed for want of coin."
"Have you plans already?" she asked. Her husband possessed scant wisdom; she doubted aught of merit lay in his designs. Moreover, he knew next to naught of their finances, thus his judgment upon what they might or might not afford was not for him to venture.
Still, Viserra permitted him his fancy.
Loras nodded. "Aye, though it sprang not from my own mind." That came as no surprise. "For a while now I have been considering the erection of a new and more fitting sept upon our…"
She ceased to heed him at once. Of course it would be a matter inspired by the Faith. Though in truth it was not solely her lord husband's cast of mind. The Faith had waxed strong since the holy books had been printed—such was the word for it. Countless lords sought now to curry favour or proclaim their devotion by means beyond voice alone.
The raising of new septs or the enlargement of those already standing had become a desire openly voiced.
This zeal was further kindled by Maelys's declared intent to erect a score and more septs within his newfound lands, among them a grand sept surpassing even the Starry Sept itself.
Viserra had pondered the wisdom of aping him, yet in the end had thought better of it. Such an undertaking would devour coin and labour beyond measure, and the smallfolk of her domains were not so devout as her husband believed them to be.
Mayhap if the septons began to offer succour to the people rather than demand tithes upon every seventh night.
At length her father's words drew to a close, and applause rolled through the gathered throng. Thereafter came the formal announcement of Daemon's betrothal, for so weighty a matter could not be left unspoken.
Yet none among the nobility appeared truly aggrieved, nor were any moved to open pleasure. The lords and ladies of the Free Cities were a scorned breed in the Seven Kingdoms: merchants risen to nobility without the lustre of ancient blood, storied glory, or divine mandate. Their very existence was an affront to the dignity of true-born houses.
Viserra herself nursed that same disdain, though hers sprang from the Lyseni claim to descend directly from the dragonlords of old. Lies, all.
Her gaze returned to the court. The last of the nobles bearing gifts to lavish upon her father had withdrawn. It was well; she had begun to weary.
Then, before the court could be dismissed, a stir arose near where Baelon stood amid the Kingsguard and the members of the small council.
Upon a cushion of rich velvet, borne with solemn care by a silver-haired attendant, came a sword whose forging she knew not. It was presented to Baelon, who accepted it with due gravity. Close behind followed three learned men, the Grand Maester among them, parchments in hand, taking station at her brother's side.
The king cleared his throat with deliberation, and the hall fell silent to hear him. "Yet before this day's court is ended, there is a matter long postponed that I must address." King Jaehaerys rose upon the monstrous throne and began his measured descent. "Let it be remembered and set down in stone that the reign of my house and the monarchy over this fair realm was never born of mere covetise. Our rule exists to exalt these lands and their people to greater heights."
The hall hung hushed save for her father's voice echoing as he descended.
"House Targaryen—and I will have this etched in stone if none else shall do so—has never been loth to share its spoils with those who have kept their vows unbroken. Therefore I call forth the House of Velaryon."
Viserra felt her heart give a startled leap. The anticipation stalked by unease twisted together within her breast, for she sensed she ought to have foreseen what was to come.
From their place among the crownlanders, Corlys and his wife peeled off, chests proud, and advanced to the foot of the throne. Reaching the king, both sank to one knee in obeisance.
Once more her heart trembled.
"My vassals of House Velaryon," the king pronounced, "your loyalty and long service to my house are matched by none. Though we have known differences along the way, never once have your vows wavered. And therefore I would bestow upon you what I deem my grandsire ought to have granted in the wake of his conquest."
Murmurs brushed the hall for a beat beyond a heart's pulse, though the curious harsh did return once more.
Her father's voice swelled. "House Velaryon, for your steadfast loyalty and unfailing duty, I, Jaehaerys the First of that name, grandson of Aegon the Conqueror and rectifier of ancient wrongs, do hereby declare and decree that your house shall henceforth be raised to the estate of a princely house. You shall enjoy all the privileges and dignities attendant thereto, and shall be known as the Princes of the Waves."
Viserra's eyes widened to saucers, and she knew her astonishment was shared by many, for a wave of gasps swept the hall like a sudden wind.
This was— What precedent justified so lavish a reward? Why? First her brother Maelys, and now the Velaryons? Had her father taken leave of his wits?
"Now, Prince Velaryon," the king continued, "take into your hands the Valyrian sword Wanderlust, and brandish it thus as the waves recognise you their new master."
—————
Viserra swept into the Hand's solar without ceremony and declared, "I wish to be quit of the main house's direct governance, Baelon. You shall grant me this."
She had hastened past the throng of lords and ladies who lingered along the hallways, each awaiting a moment's audience with her elder brother. She was not so bound as they, and thus had wielded all the rudeness her title of princess and the closeness of blood allowed.
Baelon was bent above his parchments, as was his wont, and scarce lifted his eyes at her unannounced entry. "Formal greetings are not so hard to spare, Viserra," he chided her, though no venom coloured his tone. That was well. "And what is this demand you lay before me?"
He looked upon her then and offered her a seat. All the dignified visage he had worn in court had fled; now there remained only fatigue and slight pulls on his face that betrayed a night without rest.
Viserra accepted the chair, yet midway she tempered her gait, forsaking the seductive saunter she had affected lest it give offence to her brother.
"Just so, and naught more," she declared as she took her seat, arms folded across her breast. "I would beg that House Sunglass be released from the direct vassalage of House Targaryen."
Her brother set aside his labours and turned the full measure of his gaze upon her, one brow arched. "This is no common petition, and I would venture it lies beyond the bounds of the uncommon as well," he told her. "I pray you are not asking me to elevate your wedded house, for that would far exceed my authority."
"Gods above, Baelon, that is not my meaning at all," she replied, exasperation bleeding only faintly into her tone as a sigh escaped her lips. "Though I am surprised you would deem me so ambitious as to desire such a thing."
The look her brother bestowed upon her was laced with irony. Viserra misliked it greatly.
"You have never been one for modesty."
"Time is teacher to all, Baelon, and it has washed me clean of my youthful aspirations." There was truth in that. In the silent hours of the night she often wondered how her life might have unfolded had she wedded a humble knight possessed of neither lands nor legacy.
There would have been greater freedom in such a life. Fewer nights of care and less sycophancy from lords and merchants alike.
Yet what was life without the hunger for power, without the chance to shape great change by one's own will and authority?
"I beg you judge me not by the girl I was half a decade past," she added. "It would prove wearisome to be forever measured against that image."
A flicker of surprise crossed her brother's countenance, though he mastered it swiftly. "Very well, then. Still, I would argue that the benefits of a principality are a temptation few can resist. You have perused the documents, have you not?"
More than that, she had granted herself a thorough reading of the parchments.
These princedoms had been granted such sweeping privilege and authority that they might as well have been kings unto themselves.
The Velaryons were now suffered full governance over their domains, with leave to mint their own coinage—silver alone, and but two designs. Even that small liberty Maelys had been denied.
Beyond that, they held right of war, of treating with foreign realms and cities, of conquest beyond the shores of Westeros, of levying custom tribute each decade, of eased tariffs, of arranging marriages as they saw fit, of a greater voice in council, of the office of Master of Ships, of declaring legitimacy within their own lands and setting limits upon their bannermen, of naming bastards, and of countless other boons besides.
The parchments had left the wardens and paramounts visibly unsettled, their own ancient privileges and powers suddenly reduced to third place though they had committed no fault.
The nobility stood in a frenzy, and it was nigh laughable to watch them scramble with such desperate haste to renew their bonds with the Velaryons. That was the price of sycophancy. Mere disagreement with the king did not warrant severing ties, especially not with so shrewd a ruler as her father.
Jaehaerys had ever prized wit above legacy or the fawning of lickspittles.
"I did read them," she answered, "and I remain astonished at how much our father willingly surrendered to the Velaryons." Deep within her breast she misliked it; the Valyrian sword alone should have sufficed for recognition.
"You and I both," Baelon echoed her bemusement. "Yet as to your request, I must ask why you would desire so drastic a severance. House Sunglass already enjoys exemption from taxes and free claim upon the Red Keep's excess stores. To pursue this course would undo all those favours."
"I know it full well," she replied, "yet still I desire it. And I know it lies within your authority." She knew, moreover, that all such leniency was granted only for a time.
"And in whose authority would you place your vassalage?" Baelon inquired, his gaze steady upon her.
"Give me to Maelys," she answered without hesitation. Her brother's lips curved in faint amusement. "You know well what I meant."
"Have you spoken of this with him… and with Gael?" he pressed. "It is no small request, after all."
She had not, yet she harboured little doubt of their consent. "Then may I take that as your agreement?" she asked instead, her heart nigh bursting with quiet joy. She was even prepared, in that moment, to forgive Baelon his old offences.
He gave a single nod. "It requires no great labour on my part, more so since Sunlight yields but scant tribute. Yet the port and trade levies shall remain as they stand for a time longer still. All proxied trades shall suffer a fine for the next two years, and an inventory of goods shall be required, along with sundry other provisions."
Viserra nearly leapt with delight, yet she contented herself with a soft, measured smile. The limitations were of no true consequence. Far greater privilege attended being bannerman to her brother.
She rose and offered her elder brother a graceful curtsy. "I shall not forget this kindness, brother."
"So long as you stir no fresh trouble for me to untangle," Baelon replied with a dismissive wave of the hand, though a smile lingered upon his lips. "Now go, and take what pleasure the tourney may offer.
========•========
The Saint: Was the announcement grand enough? Does the name Wanderlust seem fitting? And this is important, and immensely influenced by my sister's suggestion and my recent foray into politics, should Maelys be subject to some drama?
I have extra chapters up on my Pa-treon/BoombaTheSaint under the Free Membership section, go and read them, free of charge.
Anyway, bye.