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.
Chapter 44
"Complacency is the greatest threat. I always want somebody watching my back. It's simple, Visha. The enemy is coming eventually. This is what it means to be ready." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 13
Two years into his marriage, Aegon could sense his grandfather's impatience. Based on Elaena's advice, he and Helaena had not yet truly consummated their marriage – not in a way that would lead to a child, at least. There were concerns that Helaena was infertile, and his grandfather had already begun talking of having her set aside.
The idea alone set Aegon's teeth to edge in a way he found hard to even articulate, his grandfather's presumption stirring a muddy vexation deep within, a lingering one only comforted by holding Helaena close until her joy and contentedness saw it fade from him. Aegon had countered any possibility of this by loudly and frequently telling his father how blessed and pleased he was with his sister as his wife. King Viserys being well pleased that his daughter would not be set aside, Aegon's grandfather dare not broach the subject.
Helaena was a delight, but the night terrors she now suffered from filled Aegon with worry down to his bones. They were growing more common as of late, and even were she older and more suited for childbirth, per Elaena, he worried over how her body would handle it. She had grown pale and somewhat thinner. It wasn't as noticeable to others, but to him, he saw it.
Helaena was crying out in her sleep, and Aegon was torn as to what to do. He slipped from their bed, opened the door and ordered one of the household guards to fetch the Grand Maester. He waited beside her until the man arrived with his usual concoctions. When his wife woke from her terrors, she was often unhinged, and sometimes he feared she would hurt herself.
He always did his best to hold her, gently but firmly pressing her limbs between them to lessen any thrashing, ensuring her head remained far from harm. It helped to an extent, and even in her sleep and terror, Helaena leaned into him as if by instinct. Aegon felt a surreal gratitude, never having imagined that the strength he gained from relentless training under Cole, even with only mediocre skill, would be turned to so invaluable and heartfelt a purpose.
Aegon gently caressed her, touching her face and whispering her name in hopes of getting her to more calmly rouse from the depths of her terrors. After a few moments, he lightly pinched her arm, and then she suddenly made to sit up, flinching and hesitating when the weight of Aegon's own careful embrace slowed her.
She squirmed to face him, awkward and without leverage to move well.
"No, no, no, no, no. Not like this! They're safe but she's not! My mother, no! PLEASE!"
Even as he took in her panicked words, Aegon remained sharply aware of her extremities and guided her posture into one without much risk of rapid motion, "My love, you had a nightmare. It pains me to see your health wane so. Look, I've brought you some tea, to grant you a measure of relief."
Helaena looked at him wild-eyed, but her body eased some in response to his presence seemingly without her realizing. "I have to remember, I can't forget. It's cold. The winter, it's coming, and it will be cold. And lonely. No, not for years, my children. They are safe this time." Tears were streaming down her face. "But is this one real? Listen, Aegon, you must listen to me."
The Grand Maester looked on with an admixture of pity and resolve, handing him a cup, "My prince, this avails us not. Best administer it to her quickly. She'll rest easier and won't even recall. It feels cruel, but it is better for her."
"No!" She tried to slap the cup from Aegon's hand, but with his prepared hold and her arms pressed between them, he was quick and avoided her clumsy strike.
"Don't! Write it down before I forget! When father dies, they come for us! Fire and Blood! Rats in the dark! They'll hurt her, they'll hurt her..." Helaena was rocking now within his embrace, arms wrapped around herself and still largely pinned against Aegon's chest as she curled into herself and him both. "We have our own, but it will be too late. The cold encroaches the soul… but no, no, that isn't right. It isn't right, she's not there! It's an eye for an eye, but he still has an eye."
"My prince…" Mellos began again.
Aegon took his wife's face in his hands as gently as he could, his broader shoulders and bent elbows encompassing her slighter, weakened frame.
"No! Listen, Aegon, it's our children or our mother! She can only stop one, don't you understand, no!"
It stabbed at his heart to know her nightmares so often revolved around family, confused and contradicting though they were, for Aegon too suffered nightmares of failure, worries over the threats he must face if he were to protect the throne from the wanton whims of his siblings. But he felt no greater helplessness, even against the Dark Storm's wrath, than he did over his wife's own suffering.
"Dearest Helaena, beloved of my heart," Aegon pressed their foreheads together with care, allowing everything he felt to leak into his words and show in his eyes as they stung. Her own dream-misted and despairing gaze locked onto his as he pleaded.
"This torment you face, I know not the answer to it. I know not what to even make of it. All I know is that to see you suffer more and wither like this will shatter me as surely as any fate your dreams imagine. So please, for me, will you not accept this care? Might you not have concern for yourself and your health as much as you do worry or fear for our family?"
Helaena struggled limply, distraught, but her resistance was resigned, her expression defiant but so utterly exhausted. The memory of her tearstained face and despondent sobs as she alternated between nodding or shaking her head would burn itself into his next nightmares, Aegon could tell already.
A pair of servants arrived to help hold her steady as Aegon delicately parted her lips and poured the drugged substance into her mouth, holding it shut until reflex forced her to swallow.
"Mother… tell her not to… winter…" And Helaena fell still, her breathing slowly evened out.
Aegon gently kissed his wife's brow. He forced his emotions down and breathed as Elaena had showed him all those years ago. His lifeline against the tempest inside his heart.
"Is there nothing more that can be done?" Aegon asked as they moved some distance away, his voice torn between fury and worry – at his own inability, at the gods for their cruelty to his wife, at all those around the couple who forced their situation into one of such peril and stress.
Mellos shook his head. "My prince, if we give her dreamwine or milk of the poppy every night it will become a dependence. She is not this bad as often; we must stay the course."
Aegon was troubled. He knew his family's history.
"Grand Maester, could it be what she sees is a portent of the future? We are of the same blood as Daenys the Dreamer, who saved our family from the Doom."
Mellos patted him on the shoulder. "There are many who suffer under night terrors. Why, I recall three decades ago we once had a man that studied at the Citadel who claimed to dream of the future. His tales were so outlandish! Imagine believing that dragons would one day be gone from Westeros, preposterous." The old man scoffed, then looked down at Helaena. "Sometimes a mind can grow troubled, get her out more and into the light, and avoid humoring her delusions. Have you not said yourself that she argues with herself on what is real and what is not? When it grows bad, we can mix the same drink for her and ensure she forgets the worst of it. For normal nightmares, it will not be needed."
Aegon nodded, even though the Grand Maester's words grated on him for their dismissiveness. Elaena said there wasn't a point in taking advice from experts unless you were prepared to listen to said experts. While they had been determined to keep secret the disturbing terrors that afflicted Helaena, Aegon now resolved to include Elaena next time she visited.
She studied at the Citadel for a time when she was younger, hadn't she? She was also pushing the idea of subsidizing less harsh soaps for the smallfolk. Her knowledge of mystic lores and forgotten remedies had even managed to help save Ser Laenor from horrific poison, somber and disturbing as that line of thought was. She had personally helped Aegon with managing his tempers beyond anything the Maesters or adults had offered. If anyone could suggest a more permanent solution where he and others failed to soothe Helaena's mind, he could trust it to be Elaena.
"Thank you for your help, Grand Maester."
"It is my privilege to serve. As ever, I am pleased to see how you handle the stresses laid before you. You follow in your father's footsteps well," Mellos complimented.
Aegon looked him in the eye. Though his Maester Robes were not green, it was quite clear where he stood in matters of politics. Aegon supposed he should be grateful, but power within King's Landing had always been the Greens' stronghold.
It is everywhere else that is the problem.
Daeron in exile to Gulltown, forbidden from his dragon or his family. Aemond still not able to win Lord Baratheon's approval for a match. Daemon growing ever more powerful as the riches of Essos flow to his realm. The Lannisters had grown timid, and Oldtown was visibly out of favor with the crown. The Dark Storm an ever-looming menace made all the more troubling for his terrifying rational control and restraint. If the man were to ever truly let loose, his mercy and forbearance exhausted, Aegon shuddered to imagine...
No, things were not going well, and all his grandfather would say was that he had a plan! It drove Aegon to the edge of wrath at times, seeing that self-satisfied and condescending smile… but he controlled himself. Suppressed his rage as Elaena had taught him. Decisions were to be made in the cold light of rationality, not with emotion.
I'll scream my rage into the skies when I take Sunfyre out next. Until then, I will control myself. I am the master of myself. I am a human. I am in control. I am a rational being and I will not act erratically. I shall not act counter to my own will.
Feeling better after having mentally recited his personal catechism, he lay down next to his now calmly sleeping wife, cradling her in the crook of his neck and beneath his chin, wrapping her tight and letting worries for the future fade away.
***
Thraezarys soared through the clouds as a riderless Moondancer playfully gave chase. At only eight years old, Rhaena was ecstatic to be able to fly. She had once been envious of her older sister Baela for having a dragon, and when Silverwing had been stolen from her, she had wept bitterly.
Her father had promised her a dragon – one way or another – and, in time, he had made good on his promise. The dragon known as Sheepstealer had been corralled with the help of her cousin Elaena, and Rhaena had been able to bond with it. It had been scary to approach, but Elaena never looked worried or concerned at all, as if there was simply no way for Rhaena to fail. That and the many other dragons guarding her nearby helped much to firm her courage, and then there was no trouble at all.
Rhaena had been sad to see the lovely sheep being eaten, but her father had told her that it was the nature of sheep. Some creatures – and some people – had a purpose. Either to be eaten or to be the eater. She was a Targaryen, blood of Old Valyria, which meant she was the latter, as was Sheepstealer. Seeing her own joy reflected on the faces of all the other dragonriders present – and that special understanding in their eyes – Rhaena could believe it.
Only the name Sheepstealer was not Valyrian enough for her father, so he and her mother helped Rhaena choose a new name. Thraezarys, in honor of her being unclaimed for so long, was the name they had agreed upon. And what a dragon she was! Almost identical in size to Silverwing, she was more than worth the wait and the heartache Rhaena had endured two years prior.
Moondancer was not yet old enough to bear Baela's weight, but the playful, smaller dragon enjoyed flying after Thraezarys. Rhaena was looking forward to the day her sister could join her in the clouds. Her mother was away, and her father didn't have time to play right now. She guided Thraezarys back down from the clouds to land in the area cleared for her dragon. There, waiting for her, was the escort that would take her back home.
The city of Tyrosh was more interesting to her than the islands of Driftmark or Dragonstone. She really liked how Dragonstone looked, but there was hardly anyone there, aside from family, of course. Her betrothed was there, but she didn't care about such things. She thought he was kind of annoying and wished she were to wed his older brother instead.
I have the bigger dragon; shouldn't I get the bigger brother?
Her mother had just laughed and said that it didn't work like that. She didn't let it bother her too much; it wasn't as if she got to see either of them very often anymore. Tyrosh had so many pretty things and colorful objects, but it wasn't nice having so little family nearby. She wondered if her father would let her fly over and visit.
Probably not, I don't really know the way.
Baela was waiting for her when she returned. "Did you have fun?"
Rhaena grinned. "I did! Moondancer is growing so quickly; I'm sure you'll be able to join me soon."
"Not very soon. Mother says she's a healthy dragon, but not growing as fast as some. When our mother says it's safe, you'll let me ride with you, right?"
Rhaena agreed happily. They said dragons didn't like having another rider and that only riders with strong bonds could get a dragon to consent to it. She knew Thraezarys – and while their bond might be fresher than a cradle dragon's, it was just as strong!
The two twins went to see what their father was doing. Not finding him in their family quarters, they looked in his throne room. It wasn't as grand as the Iron Throne, but the seat didn't have pointy bits. Their father wasn't there, either.
"We could just ask one of the guards," Baela pointed out.
"Where would the fun be in that? Let's go check the kitchens; maybe he was hungry."
Baela fixed her with a look. "Don't be silly; he would just have a servant bring him the food."
Rhaena mulishly insisted, and sure enough, he wasn't there either.
"I know," Baela said, "the practice yard!"
They hurried on toward there, and while they saw some soldiers fighting each other, their father was not among them. They returned to the main hall, where they saw a man in fine clothing being followed by two knights. Each wore silver accessories of some kind, often dragon pendants or fancy wing designs, which the twins recognized immediately.
"Hamish!" Baela shouted. "Have you seen our father?"
The man turned and gave them a friendly smile. "He's off visiting a friend. Is there something you need? You know you need only ask, and any of the guards or servants will fetch it for you." He paused and tapped a finger to his chin, leaning a little and giving a ridiculous conspiratorial wink that never failed to amuse. "Or mayhaps you wish to hear of how my own grand conquests on the great battlefields of the marketplace measure up to your father's exploits? I'm sure I have a victory or two worthy of royal attention!"
The two silvery knights behind the man glanced towards the silver symbols adorning his robes, then their own armor, and exchanged wry grins like the jest included them as well.
Hamish had always been a man of good cheer since they met him. Rarely had they seen him without a smile or trinket to gift, and most only ever spoke compliments of him. Despite spending all his time on boring things like coins and trade, he always had a clever jest ready, sometimes his wit stealing laughs from the twins and others whenever they least expected!
They especially loved how he told and exaggerated tales of outwitting scheming magisters or beating them at their own tricks, and of what wondrous gifts the fleets he managed brought back for them – including some from their cousin Elaena, who wrote from time to time on name-days and the like. Their father always made funny faces after such meetings with Hamish, too, but he wouldn't ever praise or laugh at the stories and gifts.
After the Dragon Bank came to Tyrosh and kept bringing all those nice things, their father had sometimes muttered or sneered about him as the 'Silver Falcon' – but Hamish only ever seemed delighted when called by that name. He'd really started wearing more fancy silver decorations and wing symbols after that.
Rhaena answered for the two while Baela giggled. "We just wanted to find him and see when our mother would be returning. Maybe see if he would take Baela flying, or let her fly on Thraezarys with me."
"He's not overly fond of me, but I'll have a servant send him a message that you requested to go flying as a family. As for Lady Laena, she should be home in a few days. Lord Baratheon enjoys company, so she may stay an extra day or two, but she won't be gone long. I myself am headed into the city, so I fear any tales from me must wait 'til evening."
Having their answer, the twins went off to find some non-draconic forms of amusement. Perhaps the gardens would have more excitement to be found!
***
Kevan was overjoyed. His wife was with child! He thanked the Seven upon hearing the news, which had brought a brief frown to Elaena's face before vanishing as swiftly as it had come, making him question whether he had truly seen it. Reading Elaena's moods and expressions would be a challenge for a lifetime, but one he was glad to take on.
Married life with Elaena was very… busy. Her stamina and ability to just keep going were borderline monstrous. It was all Kevan could do to keep up. She was precise and exacting in every deed, her demeanor so confident and her performance ever intimidatingly exemplary. So much so that Kevan would feel it a sin should he ever be cause for disappointment, or cause for a frown to mar his wife's statuesque face when she did so much to lead – when she let him close enough to share in her heart's desires. Between reviewing ledgers, inspecting worksites, flying on Viktoriya, meeting with craftsmen, 'mentoring' her handmaidens, and visiting a variety of locations, including Dragonstone, King's Landing, and Sunspear, it was a wonder they had any time to themselves as man and wife!
Time was arranged, naturally. Elaena worked out when their bedding would be most likely to produce a child, and the 'task,' as she called it, was scheduled. She was rather efficient at ensuring a successful outcome, commanding and deft in a disciplined way that left Kevan himself breathless and spent, but at times, he wondered if she still derived any enjoyment from it.
From the very beginning, she had been honest about having no taste for such things, and Kevan had long accepted that she took her pleasure in cerebral endeavors, perhaps to the exclusion of the physical. But every now and then, it seemed she did, and that led to a certain level of awkwardness later, which was perplexing.
And bringing it up just leads to her altering the subject so bluntly that I feel a boor for even attempting to discuss it.
Despite the... ordered structure to their relationship, Kevan found himself loath to offer complaint almost without realizing. Elaena had continued to grow in the years since their marriage, taller and more regal, her beauty more and more refined, mature, mesmerizing. Exquisitely so. By her eighteenth name day, Elaena's voice had gained a low heft and husk to its undertone, and with the way she spoke and held herself, those listening could not help but surrender their attention as her words glided to their ears like a strong and smooth tide.
When his wife focused upon him with the full weight of her gaze and spoke with such authority, her voice melodic and subtly sonorous, Kevan felt his skin tingle and lightning zip down his spine, only further contributing to the... efficiency of the whole ordeal. The experience was unforgettable, but never had Kevan dreamed he would find such unique joy in his marriage regardless of it being an infrequent occurrence.
But whether his wife was wielding authority, effortless and in her element, or quietly intense at a desk in her study with just the two of them, Kevan felt as if each moment were artwork. He could not keep his gaze from tracing Elaena's enduring elegance, enjoying the glint of life sparking in her eyes, whether cold and aloof or warm and interested, all painted upon a face and figure that surely put both Maiden and Mother to shame.
But if there were a time where she grasped his heart such that he felt it clench within his chest, it would be when he saw her shift, saw her soften. Princess Elaena Targaryen's controlled demeanor and quietly powerful presence came as naturally to her as Viktoriya did to flight, but the moments when he saw his wife catch herself, and then relax in his presence... his heart might burst were the feeling any stronger.
By the day he imagined what it would be like when their child joined such scenes in his most treasured memories, the three of them together. What look would show in her eyes, at such a time? Would that rare, gentle smile she seldom showed then grace the world more often?
Kevan wished he knew whether it was a son or a daughter, but above all, he prayed that his wife would emerge in good health. Her mother had died in childbirth, and her family had warned him that Elaena regarded the birthing bed with great trepidation. No sign of such worry had manifested, but as Kevan well knew, her moods were difficult to discern. If she ever felt fear, it was oft said that none had seen her let it show.
Also regarding matters difficult to discern, the political situation in the Westerlands had been relatively quiet. Both Kevan and his wife had suspected that Jason Lannister would stir up trouble, but so far, he had been unexpectedly accommodating. It unsettled Kevan. It was not the usual behavior of any Lannister when dealing with a vassal.
The coin Lannister had provided, meanwhile, along with additional lending from the Dragon Bank, had upended Golden Tooth and its surrounding lands.
Kevan had his own role in managing certain projects within his portfolio. It was acceptable to delegate, but on the items he oversaw, Elaena expected him to know exactly what was going on. There was no formal discussion about who should make the decisions; Elaena simply took charge. And since all those decisions had led to positive outcomes, Kevan did not even attempt to wrest control from his sharp-witted wife. That Elaena acted so with utmost poise and near-unilateral preeminence only further reduced any chances of objections from Kevan. Her effectiveness and leadership could not begin to bother him when it so clearly suited his wife as both a royal princess and Lady Lefford, and dragonrider besides.
My wife!
The thought still never failed to bring a smile to his lips. Kevan's days were long, yet energizing and productive. Through their efforts, they had successfully integrated the freed slaves and improved life for all across the Lefford lands.
The King had even ridden on the back of his son's dragon for a visit! It was good to see Prince Aegon, if only briefly before he flew back to King's Landing. Viserys had intended to stay for only a week or two, but ended up staying for two whole months. Kevan's father had thoroughly enjoyed hosting the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and no small measure of 'ripple effects' – as Elaena called them – had washed over the other houses of the Westerlands. Many nobles great and small sworn to Casterly Rock now sought succor and sway with the Golden Tooth.
Events beyond the Westerlands were less stable and productive. Several other kingdoms that had taken in the freed Tyroshi slaves were not acclimatizing as well as those in the Lefford lands. Septons had tried to convert some, and while they had found success, it had not been enough to satisfy the Faith of the Seven. In some cases, things had turned ugly, and some of the freed Tyroshi had committed terrible acts. Or so it was said. With the accused no longer having heads, the full truth would never be known.
Elaena had worked with the other lords and encouraged volunteer knights, many of whom were Knights of Victory, to patrol freely in the areas where they worked, without charging the host house for their service. This had helped, though it also raised other concerns.
Kevan also knew the subject of Daeron was a touchy one. They had discussed it, and Elaena had freely stated that, of course, Rhaenyra's children – at least most of them – were bastards. That she confided this to him and expressed her trust in him like so made Kevan feel closer to her than any in the world, though the scandalous confirmation was separately disheartening in other ways.
Elaena had said that, in a more perfect society, anyone could speak freely without fear of losing their tongues, but that they lived in an imperfect society. She had been quite displeased with Daeron for failing to consider the consequences of his statements. Kevan had half-expected her to defy the King's edict and visit Daeron, but she had scoffed at the idea and reminded him of what she had said.
'He's the one in charge, why would I undermine him openly? Daeron is learning a valuable lesson. Do not tell the boss what he doesn't want to hear, no matter the truth of it. Especially not in public, and even less at a grand gathering of influential nobles!'
But all that aside, Kevan arrived at their chambers to find his wife writing out a letter with more force than she typically did.
"Is all well, beloved?"
Elaena's face lifted and showed her open exasperation. "My unruly uncle is stirring up trouble. Hamish tells me he's gathering men and supplies. Further adventurism in Essos isn't beneficial. Other lords haven't handled the freed slaves as well as I hoped. We need more time before even considering an attempt to absorb more."
"Where will Lord Daemon strike?" Kevan asked, eyebrows rising in surprise at the news.
"Myr or Lys. Lys would be easier and likely less damaging all around. With it not being on the Essosi mainland we might avoid a broader conflict. I've also managed to ensure a healthy partnership with Myr through a mixture of threats and beneficial agreements."
Kevan smiled. His clever wife had learned the secrets of glassmaking and had helped the Freys and Manderlys set up shop to make use of those techniques in the ports. However, the glassware they were making was of low quality and rather ugly looking. They would allow for glass gardens in the North to no longer be so cost prohibitive, but would not expand operations to other uses.
However, his clever wife had demonstrated extensive knowledge on how Myr produced glass, and how Westeros could easily undercut and disrupt their monopoly. She could significantly hamper their economy, or they could help invest and provide expertise in starting production of the lower quality goods in Westeros to create more glass gardens. They had wisely chosen the path Elaena wished them to tread.
It amazes me that even at her own wedding celebration, she was reaching arrangements with foreign powers to strengthen trade and peace. Without her efforts, Tyrosh would have suffered great shortages and merchants may well have shunned their needs, forcing Westeros to send many vessels to keep them going. Piracy, even with the threat of dragons, would have made those journeys costly.
He credited Elaena with the brilliance of the deals, though it was also true that the Essosi powers were terrified of Westeros after the lightning strike on Tyrosh.
"Perhaps we can dissuade him from targeting Myr. I recall you told me they have a new scorpion model that launches spears with greater speed."
His wife nodded, her silvery hair shimmering with the movement. She had let it grow even longer and more majestic after the wedding, still immaculate in waves and braid patterns that reached down to her thighs. He carded a hand gently through the looser silken locks nearest her neck, offering a light caress of her shoulders to ease their stiffness.
Elaena allowed him this casual affection and contact, though was slow to acclimating or accepting it. The occasional relief in muscle tension while she was preoccupied seemed to have won her over eventually.
"They do, but mostly, I want to avoid war altogether. Father has made his intentions clear, but if Daemon takes Lys quickly, it creates problems when it comes to holding him accountable. Caraxes, Vhagar, Thraezarys, and possibly Meleys means that any attempt at confronting him with force would tear the realm apart."
"You don't include Seasmoke? The Dark Storm is his good-brother."
Elaena just smiled.
"Elaena, I know you share a unique relationship with Ser Laenor. You saved his life by calling for aid so swiftly that night, and he clearly dotes on you. He even threatened me to ensure I treated you properly before we wed. But he's still the Dark Storm, and such a man is inscrutable."
A strange look passed Elaena's eyes and Kevan wondered if he would ever know all there was to know about his wife. He longed for that. He wanted them to be fully united, no secrets, alike and together and of one mind. He could think of no one greater, no one he would be more honored to share life with. It wasn't so simple though, as Elaena insisted that a promise or oath to keep others' secrets applied to all, even her husband. And in matters of royalty and dragons, Kevan could admit having no grounds to intrude save bonds of affection. He knew this even before he was selected as one of the final suitors. He had promised her all the leeway she asked, and she had been honest and upfront about her restrictions. But he could still dream of more... for Elaena alone seemed capable of making dreams into reality.
"My analysis is that Ser Laenor wouldn't side with Daemon against my father, but it doesn't change the calculation. That's why I'm writing to my sister and Rhaenys. The Seven Kingdoms are prosperous, and Essos has been exceedingly accommodating, far beyond my original expectations. Everything is going so well. We cannot allow the spark of war to ruin it all."
For all Elaena's assuredness, Kevan knew she also harbored fears of disaster. She often spoke of how setbacks and failures were like snow falling down a mountain. A little didn't seem cause for concern, but if allowed to continue, it would become an unstoppable avalanche.
Kevan felt the stiffness return to her shoulders in force as she spoke, her body communicating the stress he doubted she would ever openly give voice to. And for all that Elaena's voice was a delight to listen to, if it meant supporting her properly, he would pay even closer attention to her condition directly. He waited for her to finish and then stole a kiss.
"Let not these concerns lead to anxiety. Nor should you permit it to overwork you. You bear our child, and that is stress enough to one's health. There is no need to keep such a busy schedule."
Elaena's expression did shift ever so slightly toward annoyance. Few would have caught it, but Kevan, having been by her side these last two years, was most perceptive to such shifts.
"I pace myself; writing a letter is hardly an exertion to be concerned with. Your worries are good-natured, but this is outside your wheelhouse."
One other positive sign in his relationship is that Elaena did relax around him in gradually more and more ways, her hesitations also decreasing with time. The phrases she used were ones that weren't common in Westeros. When speaking with those less close, she didn't use them as often, but not so with him. Her natural preferences for speech were something she'd had to suppress while at court, and only after seeing how much of his radiant wife had been stifled so, in all those little ways, did Kevan come to comprehend the sadness in such a thing, comprehend how ruthlessly she controlled herself.
The ancient peoples of Essos really did have an art in using words, I can see why she developed a taste for their uses. Such a shame so few would understand her that she must mask her love for them. One day, I'll have to read some of the texts she references. Not that I have time these days! Even though my portfolio of projects is significantly smaller than Elaena's, it's all I can do to stay afloat! Truly, to remain as poised as ever under such burdens, her limits astound me. The depths of her mind are fathomless in a wholly different way than men like the Dark Storm. And she wonders why I worry for her health?
"Shall I summon the expert opinion of a Maester? I am certain they will say the same."
"No, the Maesters do not know me as well as I know myself. I assure you, I take quite deliberate and thorough pains to safeguard our child's health as well as my own. I will not allow any other outcome, not in this. There is also far too much to be done for me to take a vacation for half a year or more," Elaena said, finality in her tone. The utter, unyielding confidence in her captivating voice rose gooseflesh on Kevan's arms and neck, but he pushed the striking sensation aside.
Kevan demurred for the moment and made plans to include her handmaidens in a unified front at a later date, hopefully one where his wife wasn't irritated with her 'irrational family members.' Another sign of trust in him was Elaena's verbal diatribes about how foolish some of her kin were. Chief on that list was Daemon, followed by her sister Rhaenyra, her grandfather, her mother, and occasionally her own father. Such occasions were experiences that no mummer could possibly capture when recited with the kind of vehemence or seething restraint Elaena could manage.
Kevan's wife was dangerous for his heart in many ways, he discovered. To know such thoughts lurked within her mind, while otherwise remaining so impeccably polite and controlled...
"Very well, beloved. We have not yet spoken of it, but will the birthing take place here or in King's Landing?"
"Here," came his wife's immediate response. "We've made this place far more secure, and I don't want to be gone for too long. There is work I can do in King's Landing as well, but too many other distractions are there. And once there, my father will insist that I stay longer than I need."
Kevan smiled. "Most like, that does sound like the King. We might have another royal visit for the birth. Do you think your siblings will attend?"
Elaena shrugged. "I know not, this is the first child I have borne. I suspect some will, so we should be prepared regardless."
"Will your sister release an egg to us?"
Syrax had laid a clutch of three eggs recently, with Alicent requesting two for her children, something that Rhaenyra had refused. One would likely go to Visenya – whose second egg had never hatched – and one would be reserved for Aelyx should he never claim a wild dragon.
"Ideally, yes, though it would create tension with my mother. In theory, the proliferation of dragons across other houses would normally be a concern, but my father told me at the wedding that should I be fruitful and Viktoriya lay eggs herself, they could stay within my family." A faint smile appeared on her face, a wry humor reflecting in her eyes. "Not the best decision for a sovereign, but given my loyalty and work on behalf of his rule, it's a suitable reward."
"Excellent, well, I can't see your sister denying you. She and Lady Laena have not gotten with child for the last two years, so it would appear they have a spare, so long as they continue denying the Queen her request."
Elaena nodded, and the two passed into companionable silence. Kevan luxuriated in merely being in his wife's presence. The way her delicate hand did plant itself upon her chin, and her brow furrowed in thought, made for quite the appealing view, a masterwork painted by the gods for his eyes alone. The little smiles she made when completing a complex plan or task. The way she glided a hand down a length of her hair when deep in consideration. The way she didn't even realize when he'd sent for a maid to refill her favorite tea, reaching for the warm and fresh beverage he placed nearby almost on instinct. Seemingly always with practiced poise and regal countenance, then unguarded like this when in intimate privacy. The difference between the two, her demeanor and the clashing impressions public and private both compounding into a relentless assault on his heart.
Lanna would call it 'adorable,' and Kevan thought that a fine descriptor, indeed.
***
Laena landed Vhagar, and an honor guard of Baratheon soldiers escorted her into Storm's End. For once, it was not raining. Borros Baratheon greeted her warmly and immediately conducted the formal guest right. In this case, the bread was honeyed and quite delicious.
"How fares your mother?" Borros asked.
"She is well, through she grows weary on the small council."
Borros nodded. "Aye, made up of money grubbers, lickspittles, and cripples, I can see why Jocelyn's daughter would mislike the task. Has she considered letting the role of special advisor to the King fall to her son? Mayhaps he would bring those curs in line."
Laena kept herself from grimacing. The insult toward Larys Strong made her think of her own child's impediment. Instead of responding as she wished, she swallowed her pride, for the sake of the task her love had given her.
"My brother might swiftly part heads from necks if he were there! Perhaps best the task continues to fall to my mother."
Borros roared with laughter more than the jest warranted. Laenor was a more forgiving soul than people would think, nor would he ever slay a member of the small council over a disagreement.
As they entered the hall, a welcome feast was being quickly assembled, and Laena spotted Aemond Targaryen. The lad neared ten-and-five, tall and handsome, resembling a younger version of her husband.
The Targaryen blood overpowers the Hightower in this one.
"Lady Laena," he nodded, "what brings you to this humble abode?"
Borros frowned at her side. "Watch your tongue, boy, Storm's End has a long and storied history."
"Come now, my lord, it was a simple turn of phrase. Lady Laena resides in Tyrosh and likely rests her head upon a bed of sapphires. We are all humbled by her wealth," Aemond replied, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
Laena let out a small laugh. "That would be quite uncomfortable and impractical. Children are so imaginative, aren't they, my lord?"
Borros grinned, pleased by Laena's response. "Aye, you have that right of it. Little boys do have active imaginations."
Aemond narrowed his eyes, and danger lurked in them. From beyond the castle walls, they heard a roar. Laena knew it to be Vermithor, and not for the first time, she wondered what would happen if her Vhagar fought against the Bronze Fury.
The feast proceeded apace, and Laena would have had to be deaf and blind not to sense the tension between Lord Baratheon and Aemond. For her part, she helped Borros needle Aemond throughout the meal, and the young man was growing more irritated, his tongue becoming harsher still.
"Princess Elaena is with child?" Aemond interjected as Laena and Borros discussed the news.
"Yes, she is. I'm surprised you did not know," Laena commented.
"Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it. The Maester read the letter, and I meant to have it given to you, but I had more weighty matters to attend to."
"You kept word from me about my sister's letter?" Aemond rose, rage etched into his face.
"Sit down, boy. It came but a week ago, and now you know," Borros waved his hand dismissively.
"You had no right to touch any message meant for my eyes, you illiterate oaf."
"Oaf?" Borros snarled.
Laena thought it amusing how that was the part he took offense to. The bite of honeyed fruit she took tasted almost as sweet as the delicious byplay unfolding before her.
"I came here to wed one of your daughters, to honor your petty house because Targaryen and Baratheon blood had mixed well in the past. But you dangle them like prizes, when it is I who far outstrip any other potential suitor you might possibly have. I, a dragonrider and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms!"
"I said SIT DOWN!" Borros roared. "I will not have you insult me in my own hall. You ungrateful, pompous shit. Do you want to go another round? You are so slight and fragile; I fear you'll end up with more than just bruises next time."
Laena stayed in gleeful silence at what she was witnessing. Another roar echoed, and Laena's mirth dried up as she saw the terrified looks on the faces of those in the hall.
"I am done with this insignificant place," Aemond snarled, stalking toward the door. Several guards barred his path.
"Think carefully, my lord. You cannot hold me here, Vermithor will never allow it."
Borros spat on the ground. "Off with you, and do not darken my halls with your misbegotten arrogance. I will let your father know of your disrespect, and even should you beg to be admitted again, you will be refused."
Aemond said nothing further as he left Storm's End.
"I apologize if my coming has provoked him. I fear he likes me not," Laena said.
"He likes little and less. The boy spends his time reading like some worthless Maester. 'Tis not your fault, my lady. This has been brewing for some time. I would not have my daughter marry any who would disrespect their would-be good-father. Had he shown me an ounce of gratitude or respect, I would have approved a match," the Lord of Storm's End said sourly.
"For the best then, my lord. And who can say what the future holds? My husband and I are hoping I will soon carry another child, should the Gods will it. If it is a son, I would be well pleased to have a powerful lord such as yourself as his good-father."
Borros smiled. "You are wise as you are fair."
"You are too kind. After the feast is completed, I do have a request from my husband."
Her host was intrigued and once they were satiated on food and drink, they met in his solar along with his wife, Lady Elenda.
"My lord, my husband greatly respects your battle prowess and has often wished to fight alongside you again. That time draws near."
Borros looked surprised. "Against who?"
"Essos. Though not all at once. Daemon dreams of uniting the world under one banner. Such things do not happen over the course of years, but over decades. The time to move forward with the next step is soon at hand, but there are difficulties, and your aid will overcome many at once." Laena leaned forward. "We need your help."
Borros looked skeptically. "The Grand Melee during the paired wedding showed my strength, yet you have dragons. What do you need of me?"
"My good-brother, Viserys the Peaceful lives up to his moniker."
Borros looked confused, but Laena pressed on. "The King does not wish for war with Essos, but war will come regardless. Our ears have learned of plots to take back Tyrosh, and we have faced assassination on more than one occasion," Laena lied. Well, they had faced assassination, but there was no plot to return Tyrosh to Tyroshi rule.
"I would not betray my oaths to the King," Borros said firmly.
"No, we are not asking you to. We are asking for your help to preserve the peace by striking down our enemies in one swift stroke. Viserys has given you no command not to punish the enemies of Westeros. He has not told you, 'Lord Borros, do not hunt down pirates who attack your ships,' has he?"
He shook his head, still wary.
"All you must do is send your fleet, and your men to help hunt down the foul brigands who went against your house," Laena said simply.
"But there has been no such occurrence." Lady Elenda observed slowly, eyes flickering to the side with unease.
"A harmless deception, for the good of the realm." Laena's voice shifted, taking on a more vulnerable tone. "My Lord, I live in fear within my own domain. The threats against me and my children cannot be so easily faced by mighty Vhagar. Poison nearly claimed my brother," she allowed a tremor to enter her voice, "and it has already been attempted once in Tyrosh. I do not possess the Dark Storm's vitality. Can I not count on your aid to dispel this cloud that hangs over my head?"
"But why am I needed? Forgive me, my lady, I understand this is frightening, but I still do not comprehend," he said, striving to sound reassuring.
"Your men are valiant and will prove invaluable. But more than that, we seek to unite many houses so my good-brother cannot easily drive Daemon into exile. We will stand together and strike with the swiftness of thunder once more. Will you join this cause? Will you help protect my family?"
Borros Baratheon grabbed her hand. "We shall! Let it never be said that House Baratheon does not raise its banners for kith and kin!"
No, we don't need you to call your banners. Just fly a few when we strike. You rightly understand your muster is not what will be key to our victory. But now that I have your agreement this evening, I can ensure you don't do anything stupid before we are ready.