Chapter 47
"What really matters is what comes next." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 1
Otto felt a strange discontent with the recent events. The discord between Viserys and Daemon was auspicious, and the penalties on the Stepstones and the Stormlands was likewise an aid to his cause. And yet, matters were not as well as they might be.
The Stormlands' diminishment is a boon now, but I'd hoped to ally with them; my hot-headed grandson has sundered that design.
He was uncertain what course to take with Aemond. The boy's dragon was indispensable – Vermithor, the greatest asset at his disposal and perhaps the sole counter to Vhagar's might. He still harbored hope that his assassins would see Laena slain when the time came, yet the enemy's heightened vigilance rendered success ever more tenuous.
Damn Elaena – of course she would act to thwart assassination. These new 'professional' knightly orders might prove an even greater obstacle than the Kingsguard.
Sending Rhaenyra to the Vale was a mixed blessing. The Vale was already inclined to support her, making its gain of little consequence. His true concern lay in the possibility that Viserys might follow through on his threat to bypass Rhaenyra's generation and name Jacaerys as heir. Such a move would shatter his strongest argument against a woman's ascension to the Iron Throne. Though it would bolster the charge of bastardy, the peril of voicing it openly was too great to ignore.
Viserys had relented on Daeron's exile, permitting his return to King's Landing – though not to Oldtown. With fortune, the boy had left a favorable impression upon the houses of Gulltown. There yet remained a chance to prevent a fully unified Vale when war inevitably came.
I must also consider what marriage pacts should be made. I have five potential pawns and should look to make use of them before Viserys finally perishes.
The first match he would push for would be his granddaughter, Daenora with Kermit Tully. Daenora was two years younger, and while Kermit Tully was only the grandson of the current Lord of Riverrun, he did stand to inherit once his grandfather and eventually his father passed. Getting Elmo and Grover Tully to agree may be a challenge, but a dragon-riding daughter of a King was a powerful match for any noble, even a Paramount Lord.
Another vexing reality was that Viserys had not waned in health, as all signs had once foretold. Otto had long been counseled that the King's excesses would see him to an early grave, yet now that fate seemed less certain. The timeline of his plans was askew.
He summoned Larys to give his report on suitable candidates for Aemond, Daeron, Uthor, and Baelon.
The man limped into the chamber and took a seat.
"I regret to inform you that I was unable to secure a marriage alliance with Lady Falwell. I would surmise that my own affliction soured our chances there," Larys stated matter-of-factly, devoid of rancor, though Otto wondered how he truly felt. "As for marriage prospects, there are some promising options."
Larys waited a few heartbeats until Otto was about to speak, and then continued.
"Dorne presents an intriguing opportunity. Aliandra Martell, heir to House Martell and future ruler of Dorne, is presently nine. Winning her hand may prove difficult, but success would secure a powerful ally. Should the Prince of Dorne refuse to betroth his heir, her younger sister, Coryanne Martell, aged six, remains an option. Aemond could suit Aliandra, though for Coryanne, we might propose Uthor, who is closer in age."
Otto stroked his beard in thought. With the Stormlands likely lost to their cause, an alliance with Dorne made sense. Though traditional enemies, they could serve as a potent counterbalance. Unfortunately, the Dornish appeared entangled in brisk trade with the Velaryons, rendering the match difficult to secure.
But if it comes from Viserys… yes, I can convince him that this would build a foundation for a more lasting peace to unite the Targaryen and Dornish lines. I believe the match with their heir to be unlikely, but Uthor would still be a tie and reason for the Dornish to aid our cause in the event we cannot resolve the succession quickly.
"Good, what else?"
"Lorra Bolton, she is Aemond's age and still unbetrothed. She has three brothers, so we cannot secure that house through marriage, but the Boltons have always chafed under the Starks. My view is that the Starks will honor their oaths," Larys mused, offering one of his enigmatic smiles. "As for the Boltons, they will follow their oaths only as long as it serves their interests. Aemond may deem the match beneath him, but if you can persuade him, the Boltons would welcome a connection to the royal family. And of course Daeron is another option, though he would chafe under being tied to a 'heathen' family."
Otto frowned. He did not believe the North held any true sway in the succession. Part of him longed to humble the arrogant youth, and the idea of forcing him to marry some frigid woman from the North had a certain appeal, but it was dangerous. Aemond knew his worth and the Green's dependency upon him.
"What other possibilities?"
"Alannys Blacktyde, she's a woman who fights and raids. A favored niece of Lord Blacktyde, we could win his support. Aemond may be convinced of the match if he is impressed by her martial abilities."
Otto wasn't sure he liked that idea at all. "She's twenty and still unwed? I'll not have another royal match that proves barren, why else would she not be wed?"
"My sources say she does not wish to wed, but an offer from a prince who rides a dragon? That may well sway her and her uncle."
Otto was dissatisfied with all these options for one reason or another, but alas, there were no perfect matches that would suit his needs.
"The final suggestion would be to seek allies in Essos. Prince Aemond values his Valyrian heritage greatly. A match with a prominent daughter from Essos could provide a counter to Daemon and Tyrosh. War nearly broke out before, and we could manipulate events to bring it about once more – something the King will surely lay at his brother's feet."
Now that is an idea, but it could also backfire and make him even stronger.
"If Aemond proves intractable, then I will consider an Essosi match. Until then, keep me appraised, but do not approach any as a potential match."
"As you wish, my Lord Hand."
Otto decided there was no sense in delay and found the King working on his ridiculous miniature city. He supposed it was a good thing the man had something to distract him from interfering in Otto's schemes, but it all seemed so childish to him. Pining for the glories of the past, when one could be seizing the glories of the future.
"Your Grace, do you have a moment to speak with me about a potential marriage alliance with one of your sons?"
"I do, my friend. Who is the lucky woman, and for which son? I have a number of them," he said proudly.
"For Aemond. His fostering with the Baratheons did not go well, but I believe that has more to do with Lord Borros than in any fault in your son. Recent events seem proof of that."
Viserys frowned. "Aye, you have the right of that! Who is the girl?"
"Princess Aliandra Martell of Dorne. As heir to Dorne, she would be worthy of a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. This would be a difficult match to win, yet it would secure peace between our realms. If you were to make it known to Prince Qoren how vital this is for lasting peace, I believe we may yet prevail through the union. And should he still not consent after suitable pressure, he will be tempted to grant his approval for an alternative match – his other daughter to Prince Uthor."
Viserys was nodding. "Well reasoned," the King smiled, delight shimmering in his eyes. "I do enjoy seeing my children married and happy. Can you believe my little Elaena will soon bear her own child? A joyous occasion that has me cursing the slow passage of time."
How I long to see both babe and mother perish in the birthing bed, yet the Gods have not seen fit to grant me such fortune. I doubt they will do so now.
"Yes, a truly auspicious moment." Otto moved the conversation back to the matter at hand. "So then shall we move forward? I will draft a letter with your signature, and believe it would be best to have it delivered in person by Aegon. He has become quite the diplomat and carries your legacy of peace and reason quite well."
Viserys nodded, smiling. "Aye, Aegon has impressed me. He possesses a good head on his shoulders. He may one day replace you as Hand of the King, should he stay on his present course."
No, not Hand, he will be King. You grooming him to be the next Hand can be misconstrued as you preparing him as an alternate heir.
"I bow before your wisdom, Your Grace. He is quite young and I have many years of service left in me, but we could begin to have him sit on the small council as an observer."
Viserys smiled again. "I am well pleased we are of like mind, my friend. Yes, go and send Aegon, and when he returns, regardless of Prince Qoren's answer, we shall add a chair and explain my eldest son's new duty to learn and observe."
Otto knew that no matter the impediments the Gods set before him, he would simply adjust his course and find a new path. Nothing would stay his hand from crowning Aegon, nothing.
***
Jessamyn Redfort dined with Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Jeyne Arryn. They did so every evening, even though Rhaenyra was sullen company. She had arrived a moon ago, and other than attempting to despoil the Eyrie's stores each night, there was little conversation.
I had hoped that seeing her husband again would lift her spirits, but it has proven to be the contrary.
Instead of sullen, she was wroth and had attacked the ham as a knight might a bandit. The Dark Storm had arrived in the morning and spoken with his wife. His appearance had been cordial and well-attired; save for his windblown hair, which was less-in-place than it had been at the great wedding two years prior, he had looked much the same.
His exit, however, was a furious one. Fortunately, his wrath had not manifested in any physical harm, save for some soiled breeches as he swept past terrified guards and servants. The relatively quiet meals were something Jessamyn could not long endure, and the deep desire to know consumed her wholly.
"Princess Rhaenyra, you quarreled with your husband. It is not my place to pry, but I have oft found that sharing a burden may lighten it. Would you tell us what is amiss?"
Rhaenyra's violet eyes snapped up. "What is amiss is that my husband fails to grasp that betrayal demands answer!"
Jessamyn's eyes met her lover's before Jeyne asked, "Betrayal?"
"My sister! She is the one who convinced my father to send me away from my family. And now she has the gall to ask for a dragon egg for the child she will birth? She cares more for her ledgers than for my happiness," frustration and hurt warred in Rhaenyra's voice.
Elaena was responsible for preventing Daemon's war? Fascinating…
Out loud, she said, "I am sorry – a sibling bond must be kept tightly knit. I can well imagine your grief and frustration over her actions, and yet I must ask, why then the anger toward Ser Laenor?"
Rhaenyra's face twisted with disgust. "Because he believes Elaena's transgression should be forgiven simply because she thinks first of the kingdom's good rather than her sister!"
Silence lingered as both other ladies attempted to parse that outburst. Considering even cursory implications of those words did not bring to mind much in the way of flattering interpretations.
After a moment of heavy breathing, Rhaenyra set down her fork. "I do not resent my sister for telling my father of Daemon's plans – I, too, tried to dissuade him. No, my wroth stems from her belief that time away from my most precious people would grant me clarity of thought. Her actions took my children from me. Temporary though it may be, I will never regain this lost time."
Jessamyn found this discussion fascinating. Rhaenyra was spilling her innermost thoughts and feelings, and Lady Arryn's Mistress of Whisperers was mentally cataloging it all. The princess's drinking throughout the day had likely contributed to her lack of poise and control.
"I cannot pretend to understand," Jeyne said, a sharp and shrewd look flashing across her eyes, "as I have no children of my own. But I can see how justifiably distraught you are. I have heard that those with child are oft known to be less stable, and with your sister carrying her first babe in her womb, may it not be possible that her normal manner of thinking is askew?"
Jessamyn had always found that sort of thinking ridiculous, as it had more to do with men seeking any excuse to place women lower in the social hierarchy, and she knew Jeyne felt the same. This was merely an attempt to calm Rhaenyra down and prevent any further divide between the two sisters. Unlike the King, both Jeyne and Jessamyn feared what would occur during the succession. They had long ago decided to support Rhaenyra's claim over anything the Greens might try, and losing the support of Elaena and the Leffords would be a mighty blow. Not only was she a dragon rider, her influence with the Dragon Bank was immense.
Immense enough, it would seem, to end wars before they could even begin. It was not only that a surely staggering amount of information must be available to Elaena for such a thing to be possible, but also that she had recognized and acted decisively on it. Investigating the larger truth of such influence had just jumped right to the top of Jessamyn's priorities.
Rhaenyra made a disgusted sound, pulling Jessamyn back to the present. "That may be, but my husband should side with me, not my sister. Nor should he tremble in fear of her potential anger at being denied."
Jessamyn had a hard time imagining the Dark Storm trembling in fear. More like he was struggling to stay his wrath at his wife's foolishness, as it seemed his efforts to preserve the support of Elaena's influence had gone wholly ignored by his wife. Jeyne, too, looked quite skeptical. Rhaenyra's own words painted an image of the infamous warrior's shrewd political acumen, and yet she did not even recognize the blunder he was attempting to avert?
If nothing else, hearing that the Dark Storm valued Elaena's support so heavily was but more confirmation of Jessamyn's own budding conclusions. And more worrying for the immediate conversation.
"I am sure Ser Laenor merely wants to maintain the sisterly love you have for each other." Jessamyn put on a face of concern and slight fear. "Oh, my, I had an ill thought, Your Grace. What if he fears Elaena's fate in the birthing bed? After what happened to your mother… I could well see his concern if you two were at odds and then something dire happened to your only full-blooded sister."
Rhaenyra recoiled as if struck. "I… I had not thought of that." Her eyes grew moist. "I won't even be there for the birth, thanks to my father's actions, which Elaena precipitated."
There was silence for a time, and then Rhaenyra shook herself. "Regardless, my sister must learn she cannot play with my life like this. Perhaps I will relent if she seeks my forgiveness for her actions, but not before. It isn't as if her children are certain to remain dragon-less by my decision. Silverwing or Dreamfyre may lay another clutch, or perhaps Viktoriya will prove to be fertile. I have made my decision, and I will not be like my father and go to and fro based on a whim."
Jessamyn nodded in sympathy, though there was a tightness behind her eyes. "You have every right; you are the heir to the Iron Throne. We just hate to see you and your husband upset with each other. Your match is a story of our time, the Realm's Delight and the Dark Storm, the wisdom and beauty matched with power and might."
Rhaenyra laughed bitterly. "Is it now? Laenor does not…" she stopped abruptly. "A stray thought, of no consequence, forget it."
Jessamyn pushed further, despite Lady Arryn's shocked expression. "He does not love you as a man does a woman, because he has other tastes, we know, and understand quite well that sort of situation."
Rhaenyra's full lips opened in surprise as her gaze swiveled from Jeyne to Jessamyn. "That is why you are unwed! You care for women more than men – ah, 'tis more frequent than I once thought then. I can well understand that desire," her eyes flashed with a hungry gleam, "and yet the feel of a strong man as he…"
Jessamyn listened with some embarrassment as the well-in-her-cups heir to the Iron Throne shared things not oft discussed at a dinner table! And especially ones she had no desire to imagine!
Rhaenyra appeared more relaxed now and less angry with Laenor. As the night wore on, she drank more and soon had to be taken to her chambers.
"That was risky, Jessamyn. You go too far at times."
Jessamyn smiled. "Nonsense, my love. Rhaenyra needs an outlet and a way to voice her frustrations. Garnering her trust as we sympathize with her situation can only strengthen us. We know our Lord Hand has designs on the Vale; why else place Prince Daeron with the Gilded Falcon? Should the Greens be triumphant after the King passes, your rule very well may come to an end. We must ensure Rhaenyra is our friend, and we must steer her away from her self-destructive nature. She grows thick of waist and wit with the excess drink and food she consumes."
Jeyne did not look convinced, and Jessamyn knew she would consider her counsel carefully. Lady Arryn did not like hasty decision-making; in that way, she was quite the opposite of Princess Rhaenyra. Regardless, the princess's presence here was both an opportunity and a danger – something they would need to navigate with great care.
***
Kevan paced back and forth, livid.
"How can your sister blame you for her own actions!? This is preposterous, and our child is innocent of any wrongdoing besides! Does she truly believe that our babe deserves no dragon egg for the cradle, after all you've done for her, for her husband's family?"
His wife regarded him serenely from her seat on the plush settee, a stack of ledgers set to her side. "She is agitated by my actions, but 'tis her right to deal with the eggs as she will. Should Dreamfyre, Silverwing, Tessarion, or my own dragon lay any eggs, I am certain our child will have one. And should it not be the case, there may be other options when the babe is older."
There was truth to these alternatives, Kevan knew, even while gripped by indignant ire, but all of them entailed years of planning or waiting. Most of all, such considerations failed to reach the heart of the matter.
Kevan shook his head. "I do not understand, why are you not upset? This is a betrayal, in my view. You have done so much to strengthen the Seven Kingdoms and aid her husband's family. To dismiss all your past support for the sake of petty grievance is so wrong that it beggars belief, Elaena. It pains me in mind and heart just to dwell on the idea."
His wife gave a slow nod of acknowledgement as she rested somewhat more into the upholstery behind her, taking a few sips of her favored tea before again setting it aside, picking up the next ledger. It gave Kevan time to settle his breathing and ease the strain out of his voice.
He knew Elaena had taken this pause for his own sake. It was her way of silently affirming his reaction and the reasoning behind it, but also a subtle insistence on the need for composure. A quiet sort of support, but firm of will and courtly in manner – and so very Elaena.
His wife was but a few months away from delivering their child, and she still moved with her regular grace despite the moderate swell of her belly. The dresses she wore of late now included softer silks, satins, or velvets, often in delightfully exquisite layers or thicker designs.
Day after day, the flowing of fabrics followed Elaena's elegant movements in such a way as to seem like she were gliding across the floor, both concealing and accentuating in turn as if the weight of pregnancy were a mere suggestion or adornment upon her form rather than a burden, to the point where one could easily forget she was with child. Her balance as ever remained flawless, and the way she shifted her center and shoulders slightly back as she strode always resulted in her head being held high and proud.
Despite her condition and the typical expectations of it, Elaena cast an even more confident and authoritative visage when she moved about her business. Even when dealing with this latest foolishness from her family, she seemed almost peaceful and unbothered in her composure.
Her detached serenity was at odds with the infuriating news; for whatever reason, even such an egregious affront from her own sister did not seem to perturb her. As much as this confused him, it engaged Kevan's long-held instincts to stop, think, and observe.
Kevan wound down his pacing after having vented much of his ill feelings, shooting a grateful look towards his wife. She had closed her eyes, long lashes catching the light, seemingly content for all the world to wait for him as she thought over the ledger in her hands. She looked so mesmerizing even in such a mundane setting, long hair let loose in privacy and full lips pursed just so while she worked.
The bundled white, silver, and pale blue silks she wore today in the seclusion of her chambers conveyed a strong sense of softness about her frame and shoulders. Such luxurious fabrics and cloth supply were continual gifts from the many merchants and nobles owing Elaena their gratitude, while some fashions and styles were inspired by the passionate efforts of his wife's frequently-favored handmaiden, Lady Selene Falwell. If today's attire were one of those, then Lady Falwell had Kevan's utmost approval for garbing his wife so as to make Mother and Maiden both pale in comparison.
Elaena inspired everyone around her to be the best of themselves, her handmaidens and Kevan himself no exceptions. Rather, they were perhaps the most affected of all. So when Elaena was troubled by an excess of rare gifts, Lady Falwell had taken to them with a gleam in her eye and a mind for expanding her princess's wardrobe. The results had apparently been such a boon to both courtly fashion and his wife's personal comfort that Elaena barely grumbled at all about wearing them, and even gave Selene approving written reviews.
It was only when Kevan's pacing had come to a complete stop and his mind returned from wandering that his wife reopened her eyes, brushing silver-gold locks away from her cheek. Said silvery locks shimmered as the light caught and played all the way down their whole lengths to where they pooled at her waist. It passed by in but a single moment, yet such moments were treasures that enriched life most fully. When her gaze again met his own, her bright eyes felt both calm and understanding.
"All you have said is true, but the hope is that she will gain maturity and discernment while at the Eyrie. If it is successful, I have no doubt she will relent. If she does not relent, then we have a clue that her hoped-for growth has not occurred. A test such as that is useful. I am sure you can grasp the importance of such, no?"
Kevan let the matter drop from conversation. Elaena had made her decision to not be upset by the news, and so she was not. She trusted him to understand her viewpoint, just as she affirmed his own despite disagreeing. Trusting her in turn had become quite natural to Kevan by now, after the countless times she proved that such trust was beyond worth placing in her.
The reminder that he was perhaps the only person she held so highly in her confidences brought a pang of affection and joy to his heart.
It was probably for the best that she did not share his feelings about her sister, as anger and anxiety could cause harm, or so the Maesters said. Rhaenyra had been kind enough to him in the past, but this action of hers seemed a vicious cruelty. Elaena adored flying, and to be denied the chance for their child to have a dragon of their own was appalling. Was such a thing really worth enduring in Elaena's deeper political considerations?
"As you say, my love." Kevan ran a hand through his hair as he let out a long breath, "That aside then, Father wonders whom he can expect to come when the time nears."
"My mother is already making her way here overland. She trusts not dragonback, but my father will join her once my expected delivery time comes. My siblings, save for Rhaenyra, are most like to come, as well I suspect are Ser Laenor and Rhaenys. I have not heard from Lady Laena, and while I would not mind her company and the ability to make inquiries about Prince Daemon, I am grateful that he will not attend. My uncle aggravates me."
That last line was delivered with a sardonic hint to it, one which Kevan embraced.
He allowed himself to give several sagely nods while rubbing his chin. "Yes, I think he still mislikes me as well over that duel with Lord Selmy. Who would have thought?"
Elaena gave a small, musical laugh, the sound utterly delightful to Kevan's ears. "Perhaps. My uncle has many listed grievances; I am not sure how well you rank. Perhaps somewhere just below the entire population of the Vale?"
"All the better!" Kevan agreed in good humor, lips once again forming a fond smile at his wife's amusement. He was not bad with the blade, but Daemon could outmatch him even without his dragon.
Still, Elaena turned her once-again thoughtful gaze back to him. "I am reminded though, has there been more progress with the 'bunker' project I asked you to work on?"
Kevan nodded as his mind immediately turned to recalling details. "Yes, I still think it is excessive, but if it makes you feel safer, then I do not mind the excess. The diggers and miners have excavated the area. There are water sources secured and furnishings prepared. After you mentioned the idea last we spoke of it, scribes are copying various texts to store there for leisure or education. Clothing and bedding suitable for all seasons have been set aside, as well as some accessories convenient for disguise. Three hidden entrances exist, and the open primary one can be swiftly sealed. Dragons could not tear it down, though living underground for a time would be quite dreary."
"On that we are agreed, but there may come a time when I am away and our children must be kept safe. Golden Tooth is a formidable fortress, but it will melt just as easily as Harrenhal, perhaps moreso. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it," Elaena said simply, voice not bearing any hint of dread or concern.
Kevan could not help but shiver a bit. The security and contingencies Elaena sought would only be necessary if something awful took place. With Daemon squarely blaming Elaena for thwarting his expansion efforts, it could only be her uncle that worried her so. That she even pondered such extremes was in part both comforting and concerning. It seemed Kevan's own idle comments had reminded her of those worries, and for that he was regretful.
Would he go so far as to become a kinslayer? I truly do not know. But my wife will not lack for security or defenses on my watch. Doubtless that's the reason she asked it of me to oversee the 'bunker' personally.
Time had passed while Kevan was lost amidst his thoughts, and Elaena had finished reviewing the ledgers, now wearing a frown that managed to intensify the severity in her bright blue eyes.
"It seems we have someone pilfering from the construction fund. It is not large sums, but because we are using double bookkeeping, there are two or more individuals working together. I want to nip this in the bud."
Kevan suppressed a grimace. The price for theft like this only had a few potential sentences. Loss of a hand or head, or perhaps the Wall.
"I will have the results double-checked and then take care of it."
"No, I will do this myself."
His wife's calm declaration inspired some unease in Kevan. Looking upon her, an icon of beauty and motherhood, it felt wrong to have her oversee the handling of crime or bloody punishment in her state.
"Elaena, we spoke about this…"
"Yes, you all did speak of it, and I assured you that I am still perfectly capable of using my eyes and my mind while we wait for the birthing bed. Fraud is not something I can let go, it would be better to spend two stags to save one, if it means we eliminate treacherous thieves. The ones who do this create mistrust and require even more onerous accounting and triplicate checking. Few activities are fouler, and I will not suffer them lightly."
That statement silenced his half-baked objections.
Elaena's handmaidens and Kevan had all worked together to try to convince her to slow down a bit, to purely relax for herself and the child, but Elaena was not someone you could move when she did not wish to. Nor, in truth, did the Maesters say they had detected any harmful effects from her work. She and the babe seemed perfectly healthy at this juncture. Moreso even than most could reasonably hope for, as she hardly suffered any of the typical discomforts or pains of the condition.
Thank the Seven!
Every time the topic came up, there was only a faint sense of smug satisfaction in Elaena's smile, and she would calmly tell him that she was certain she knew her own body and condition better. But Kevan and the handmaidens kept a watchful eye nonetheless, always ensuring there was a convenient arm nearby should she ever need one to lean upon. Her skin and complexion seemed almost vibrant with health and life at times, so it was difficult to keep protesting too much.
The one occasion Kevan recalled her seeming more alarmingly tired than usual after a long day, he'd offered to carry her in his arms up the stairs and halls. He would treasure the brief look of pure, unguarded mortification in her expression for as long as he lived, as well the memory of it softening into a lopsided smile. She declined with graceful amusement of course, but she did lean upon his arm perhaps a bit more heavily as they walked. The closeness he felt with her in that moment remained strong in his heart.
No argument or persuasion they gave convinced her of much, but they had at least managed to surround her with more and more comforts or relaxing conveniences. If their princess would insist on working the hardest of all, then they resolved to have her do it in the greatest of comforts as possible.
Kevan seemed more stressed than she was. The new walk-in bath had been created and he regularly luxuriated in it as it soothed the tensions within his body, or bruises from the practice yard. What's more, some of the freed Tyroshi had been born and trained in Lys before being bought by slavers in Tyrosh, and some had valuable skills or experience with baths, steam-rooms, and various means of relaxation. All of which were received with particular enthusiasm by his wife. A young woman of Valyrian coloring was particularly favored by Elaena for her skills in massages of the feet, hands, or joints.
With the amount of work and writing Elaena and her retinue undertook, a position in Golden Tooth's expanded wings and bathworks was quickly secured for the masseuse, who now regularly attended the industrious lady of the castle and her diligent handmaidens. By all accounts, the young woman was reverently devoted and awed by the princess and her silver dragon. Understandable, really, given how Tyrosh fell.
And regarding their work, the new city had individual buildings completed, and the bones of the larger whole had been well set. The amount of planning that had gone into every aspect of the construction still astounded at times. It had yet another year or two before it could truly function as a city properly, but the speed was still mightily impressive.
But all that aside, if his wife wanted to punish those harming the projects she held so close to her heart, then so be it.
"As you say. I'd hoped to spare you these distasteful tasks, but I will have the knights detain and then bring them before you so you can glean what they have done."
Before Kevan left, he gave his stunningly beautiful wife a kiss on her lips and a careful embrace, the feeling of her frame hugged snugly within his arms staying with him throughout the day.
The work always seemed to continue, and it did make the time breeze by. The faster it progressed, the happier he was, for his hopes for his wife and child were still fraught with the uncertain terror of a calamity befalling them in the birthing bed. It was a battlefield he had no way of helping with, and that too frustrated him, so productive distractions were welcomed by all involved.
It is in the hands of the Gods and the good Maesters. I know not what I would do if something were to happen.
***
Aemond flew on Vermithor and pondered.
The very thought of his sister, Elaena, suffering in childbirth filled him with a cold, frustratingly vague fury. It caused a strange tightness and annoying clenching at the back of his throat just to think of it. At the same time, he knew that she could handle its perils. Others did not have that same optimism. Before, his mother had looked positively ill and fretted with worry. His father also paced relentlessly, and Aegon was taciturn. His other sisters, at least, seemed eager to meet their new nephew or niece.
The recent events and the shaming of Rhaenyra and Daemon were to the good of the Green cause, but in truth, Aemond welcomed war with Essos. It was one area where, for once, he did not share Elaena's opinion. After she recovered from childbirth, he looked forward to debating his reasons with her. Armed with logic, he believed he could change her mind. Essos should be ruled by his family, and while he didn't care about the slavery and suffering of its people, they would be useful arguments.
Naturally, he didn't want Daemon's own holdings to expand, but Aemond was the second son of a king. Daemon was a second son of a king's heir. Ruling an Essosi city was not a terrible destiny for second sons, and the creativity and wealth of Myr would make for a fine seat. Volantis, with the blood of Old Valyria coursing through it, would be pleasing as well.
His sharp eyes spotted another dragon below him. Aemond was within an hour's flight of the Tooth, and as he gazed at it, he decided it must be Vermax and his rider, Jacaerys. An amused grin crossed his features, and he angled Vermithor forward. The rider below noticed something had moved and blocked the sun, most likely looking up in startlement. Aemond was not even close enough to hear, but by the jagged lurch Vermax made, it was clear the pair had been unnerved.
They angled in a different direction, and Aemond matched them for a time. When Vermax went to wheel, Aemond redirected Vermithor onward to his destination. The thought of dragon-fear being inflicted on the arrogant boy who thought he would one day be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms was entertaining, but Aemond was anxious to see his sister.
Soon he arrived and there was a massive set of House Targaryen banners in an open field.
Ah, the place I am to land.
He landed with Vermithor and was escorted by two knights toward the Tooth.
"Welcome to the Golden Tooth, Prince Aemond. Quarters have been prepared for you, and after you have refreshed yourself, Princess Elaena would be pleased to see you."
Aemond knew there was still some time before the birthing, so he would be well pleased to speak with her. Footsteps came from behind and he half-turned.
"Aemond!" Jace yelled. "What in the Seven Hells was that? Do you think you can intimidate me?"
"Yes," Aemond said simply, with a bored expression.
Why would I not, when my mere presence is enough for you to divest yourself of dignity? That is, if you ever had any at all from the moment of your bastardly birth. Typical.
Jace balled his fists and stepped forward, but one of the silver-gilt knights bearing the blue and yellow heraldry of House Lefford strode betwixt them.
"There will be no conflict here," the knight said firmly.
"And who are you to say so?" Aemond drawled. "We are of House Targaryen and shall do as we will."
The knight looked at Aemond and met his gaze without any hesitation.
"You are guests, though not yet bound by guest-right, but guests nonetheless under the protection of Princess Elaena Targaryen."
Aemond shifted his head and noted what was said. The knight would appear to be sworn to House Lefford, but was clearly his sister's creature. The man had steel for a spine to not be intimidated by a prince of the realm, and knew that Elaena would not tolerate misbehavior.
She never had.
"I would never embarrass my sister by causing harm to another guest, unless they attempted to harm me. My young nephew may have a fight if he wishes it, but it will be he who strikes the first blow, not I. I have too much respect for Princess Elaena."
Jace gave a sharp jerk of his head. "I will not add to the stress Aunt Elaena must endure due to your recklessness, but we will have words anon."
I look forward to it, little nephew.
Later that day he saw Elaena waiting in the main hall. For some reason he had thought she would be laying in a bed. That was practically all Aemond could remember the Queen doing when with child.
The sight of Elaena with a hefty swell to her waist while wrapped in plush velvets and silk, looking at him with fondness in her bright blue eyes, stirred within him a strange impulse to protect or guard her.
"You are a bit early, brother, but 'tis good to see you." His dearest sister greeted.
Aemond dismissed his heart's sudden senseless hesitation as his mind conjured wry thoughts and commiserating words. He briefly considered offering a hug, before discarding the idea.
"You seem in fine spirits, though I know it is not the case. I feel, were I to embrace you wrongly, your belly would surely burst."
While his reluctance to cause discomfort was true, Aemond felt she bore her burden far better than those her lesser. When with child, Queen Alicent had ever looked miserable and drained, pallid or pained, as far as Aemond could recall. In contrast, Elaena looked to be a beacon of health, beauty, and motherhood, as if like in all else it was only natural that she excel.
A brief pang of something akin to loss flitted through him at the reminder of Elaena's superiority, her nature as a dragon among dragons.
Truly, Aemond wasn't sure what he was expecting, or that he should have expected anything less. Elaena's upright posture and relaxed ease gave no indication that she suffered any discomfort.
Elaena's lips quirked into a smile. "I get enough of that from my husband. I am with child and need to take caution, true, but I am not so fragile. I believe it shall be less than a fortnight before the labors begin."
Aemond nodded. He had come early, but he did not wish to miss being there for his sister in any case.
As they walked towards the residential quarters, he made light conversation in part for the joy of listening her smooth, confident voice again. They strolled at a sedate pace, and Aemond only realized after a short while that he was matching her slower, measured strides unconsciously. His trained eye for dueling soon noticed how her steps were a mastery in gracefulness.
She was constantly shifting in balance to remain poised, a perfect combination of holding her head high, shifting her weight to the back of her feet at the just right times, and using the momentum of her belly moving forward to avoid any ungainliness to her gait, leaving only the slightest of sway. Flawless posture and movements preserved her dignified and regal demeanor despite the challenge of doing so with both widened hips and the swell of a babe.
The stillness of her shoulders and the length of her dress hid most every movement to provoke the illusion of gliding, while the gentle billowing of her vibrant Valyrian hair helped conceal and distract from motion. She wasn't moving with particular speed, but Aemond could only describe it as a 'dignified' pace, like it was not that she could not move faster, but that she simply chose not to.
Elaena remained by far the most elegant, able, and courtly woman Aemond had ever seen, even heavily with child and on the cusp of her first birth.
"Since I arrived with time aplenty, care for a game of Cyvasse?" Aemond proposed, eager to offer entertainment and engage with Elaena's sharp mind.
"Tomorrow after breakfast, certainly. I have too much to do today." She demurred, but kindly.
Too much to do? Is your husband so inadequate, so inferior? Lefford, why is your wife still seeing to things this far along? By the gods, she's bearing your child!
He felt some faint twisting or tension in his chest at the thoughts before again dismissing them.
"Tomorrow then, if you need anything, sister, anything at all, just speak it."
His sister gave him an appreciative nod and another slight smile, then Aemond departed somewhat reluctantly to find his mother.
Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, and Daenora would be arriving in the next few days, but his mother should have already arrived. His father would be riding on Dreamfyre with Helaena. He wasn't certain how many of the Blacks would come, but he wondered if there would be another repeat of the dual weddings.
Daeron has hopefully learned to guard his tongue. As amusing as it would be, I would rather not cause Elaena grief. Not this near to the birthing.
Chapter 48
"Once you're in the game, you have to give it your all for a chance of victory." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 7
Rhaenys landed Meleys in the indicated location, easily spotted from above thanks to the deep crimson flags lining the spot. After landing she saw that her son was waiting for her. She dismounted and observed a retinue of knights in the area. Two fell in at a respectful distance and escorted her and her son up to the Golden Tooth.
"I suspect you wouldn't want a wheelhouse, but I can have them signal for a mount if you'd like."
"Nonsense, I am not so old that a short walk will tax me."
Her son smiled warmly and they embraced. It was good to be away from King's Landing. She worried that this new city being built would turn into another midden of stenches, but as of yet only the smell of dragon and flowers greeted her.
Her son had some bags around his eyes, though he looked healthy enough, and wore a regal black and blue cut that honored both House Targaryen and the sea. He proffered his arm to her and they strolled toward the gates.
"You are worried over the birthing? I had not heard the Maesters give cause for concern."
He shook his head. "No, I am sure Elaena will be fine. It is my wife that vexes my thoughts."
"Ah." She said it simply and let the silence hang for a moment. If he wished to speak of it, he would, but she would not intrude into their affairs.
After several moments, he spoke. "She has not taken her exile to the Eyrie well. Worse, she blames Elaena. I fear a schism between the sisters. I have tried to get her to see reason… but I have fallen short."
"Give your wife time, Laenor. She is unused to not having her way. A bond between siblings is hard to break. See how my good-son ever tries the King's patience, and yet penalties applied are moderate and oft forgiven."
Laenor sighed. "Perhaps. I worry that I am not the right… sort to speak to her. Outside of you and Laena I never have been adept at forming bonds with the opposite sex."
Rhaenys laughed. "Oh my dear boy, do not sell yourself so short. Despite your fearsome reputation, the maids and staff within High Tide think fondly of you. Your refined tastes catch many an eye even if you would not reciprocate. There is more to relationships between man and woman than amorous attraction." She tilted her head to look at him in the face. "Your bond with gentle Elaena is further proof that you can form ties with women. Do not sell yourself short."
Laenor's face twisted in a peculiar way.
My poor conflicted son.
"I'll not argue with you about it, mother. But I had hoped that perhaps someone else, like yourself, could visit her and help her see reason. Get her to relent regarding the dragon egg."
She pondered that thought for a time. Rhaenyra and her were not close. The open way she gave Laenor horns could have been a disaster had her son's reputation not soared to dizzying heights thanks to the Stepstones war. In truth, her son's valor and efforts had oft mitigated the princess's shortcomings, turning many a political peril into boons. It left a sour and conflicting taste upon her tongue to see the imbalance time and again. Laenor's bold actions had nonetheless proven his counsel wise over the years, but Rhaenyra was stubborn, and sometimes attempts to move a stubborn person only made them more resolute in their obstinacy. Even when presented with wise counsel - one need only look to her grandfather and cousin to see that bitter truth. Rhaenys tired of that battle long ago.
"I do not think it will aid your cause, but I will consider it. Has Elaena made mention of her frustration regarding not having an egg for her babe?"
Laenor shook his head in negation.
"Then I suggest you let the matter lie. Elaena will be resting and enjoying the early days of motherhood. She will not be nursing grudges. While she is not as fragile as some believe, she is one who cares deeply for her family. Her desires for peace between the realms are mirrored in her attempts to minimize discord among the Greens and Blacks. Further, I can personally attest that she has ever maintained a settled mind and calm demeanor. She is not one to react unduly."
Laenor muttered something that she did not quite catch, a dark flicker to his faintly-bruised eyes.
"What was that?"
"I… 'tis nothing. Just an idle frustration. The boys miss their mother and I do not wish tension to further fracture us."
Rhaenys let the deflection be, but considered her son in silence for a time. Perhaps he felt Elaena too calm, too peaceful and accepting. It was well known how protective Laenor felt and acted of her, having oft defended her from a crass and brutish sort like Daemon. That even before she helped save his life.
No wonder he is so conflicted, to see the one he holds such gratitude for slighted with this pettiness by his own wife.
They arrived at the gates and Laenor led his mother to Lord Lefford, who greeted Rhaenys warmly.
"Princess, you are always welcome under this roof. A pity Lord Corlys could not attend as well. I have fine rooms prepared, and you shall want for nothing while in my home."
"My thanks, Lord Lefford, you are too kind. I would first see Princess Elaena."
Golden Tooth had always had wealth, but Lefford had clearly decided to showcase it more prominently with all the notable guests arriving. Fresh portraits of his son and Princess Elaena hung upon the walls, quite exquisite works at that. Tapestries and curtains worthy of the finest keeps adorned and emphasized the walls and decor. Fanciful stained glassworks and windows could be spotted reflecting light around the rooms in stunning ways. Filigree of gold lined nearly everything, along with a dash of silver. Even the candle fixtures had precious gems embedded within them, more oft than not affixed and shaped with the image of dragons.
Rhaenys noted also the number of armed guards. Knights in the livery of House Lefford were stationed by staircases and doorways. Their hands were loose at their sides, and they did not slouch or lean. They weren't quite perfect, as their eyes tended to wander from notable to notable as opposed to affixing their gaze forward, but they were a sight better than the Gold Cloaks or other household guards.
She entered the large sitting room, and a guard quietly announced her. Elaena was seated across from Aemond Targaryen, upon a large cushioned chair that seemed to nearly swallow her within itself, while a Cyvasse board occupied the table between them. Round with child, it had not dimmed her beauty in the slightest. Her lengthy and vibrant hair still fell immaculately, while her sapphire-like eyes seemed to twinkle as she looked up at Rhaenys.
"Princess Rhaenys, thank you so much for coming. Your presence gladdens my heart and eases my spirit."
She reciprocated the smile – how could she not? Elaena embodied everything a princess ought to be, her greeting suffused with sincerity. In the moment before she replied, she noticed Aemond divert his countenance from the table, offer a respectful nod to Laenor, and then return his focus to the board.
"I would not miss it; you have been a great comfort to my daughter during her trials in the birthing bed. She passes on her love and regrets that matters of state in Tyrosh have prevented her coming."
Aemond's frame twitched at those words.
"Oh, is that the reason?" His words, languid yet shy of a drawl, bore the subtlety of a Baratheon hammer.
"Behave, brother. Quarrel, and I'll not grant you another turn ere you depart."
"Who says I need another? I have you this time."
Elaena offered a polite laugh as Rhaenys scrutinized the board. The game, one that had swiftly risen in prominence, remained unfamiliar to her. From the pieces set aside, she surmised they were evenly matched.
Elaena gestured toward an open chair.
"You are welcome to sit and converse; it will not distract me, and I am curious about what transpires at court."
Rhaenys sat down and began to speak of the minor happenings and proposed actions the small council were looking to take. She kept her words neutral and did not speak ill of Aemond's grandfather and his unceasing efforts to wrest the tiniest advantages for his cause. They talked of Elaena's birthing and how she was handling it, and the poised princess said that it would not be long now and that she was looking forward to greeting her firstborn.
Is her confident visage and bearing thanks to her training, or is she truly not concerned? I can see no tremors in her hand as she confidently moves the variety of pieces on the board, and her voice does not catch. But I wonder.
***
Alicent was caught off guard that her daughter was handling the pending birth so well. The Maesters said the labors would most like begin soon, and Alicent had ensured Lord Lefford's swiftest raven was sent to King's Landing. Alicent and her husband did not always agree nor know each other's mind on things, but she knew he would be most vexed if he missed his daughter's birthing. Elaena, however, had reckoned it would likely be three days, but urged the letter be sent nonetheless.
All this talk of Elaena being deathly afraid of the birthing bed was so many words in the wind. She dreads losing others, never herself.
Alicent did feel she was being a bit too blasé over the whole affair. It was always wise to carry a seed of doubt, so should the worst befall – such as the babe not surviving the birthing, or being born with some affliction like Maegor – it would not shatter her. Daemon's unfortunate spawn had been spotted by Alicent a few times. He scampered about rather well for one of his stature, and the one time he had noticed her, his etiquette was proper and he called her, 'Your Grace.' But the thought of a child like that being born of her daughter's womb was a dreadful and unnerving prospect.
On the matter of worries, Elaena's husband did enough fretting for the pair of them; he looked downright haggard and was always in motion, either turning over a stone in his hand or pacing across the floor.
The heir to Golden Tooth was likeable enough, but his constant presence was growing irritating. Only Elaena looked upon his stress with indulgent eyes or to offer a reassuring hand, so there was naught to be said. Yet it was better him than Jacaerys in the room. That bastard claimant was courtly enough, but Alicent could never forget his befouled blood. How could she, when just looking upon his face made it evident.
Surely the Seven would never allow a bastard such as him to sit the Iron Throne? The Father would not let such an injustice occur.
It wasn't anything he did – it was what he represented. The pawn that had to be removed. The line that must be ended. Staying in close proximity to him, especially when he was perfectly respectful, gave her a sense of unease. As if her following her father's plots were somehow wrong. It was foolish, but the thought lingered.
"Are you rising again, Elaena?" Alicent asked as her daughter did rise from where she had been reading a book. "You mustn't strain yourself."
Her daughter just smiled, a gentle and kind smile, but her gaze was as indulgent as the one for her husband. "No need to fret, both I and the babe are fine. I am in correspondence with the Archmaester of Silver, and he agrees that rising from time to time and moving about is not only safe, it may even be healthier."
Alicent wasn't so sure of that. She kept a high opinion of the Maesters, but they had not saved her husband's first wife, and they had once thought Elaena would die in her cradle. She had given birth seven times and knew how utterly draining each could be. Elaena's ever-present confident outlook betrayed no sign of strain, but Alicent wondered.
Be it claiming a dragon, falling down stairs, or staring down the Rogue Prince, she always presents a serene face. While appropriate for court, it has always felt odd how it never drops, even among close family.
"As you say, but I will walk with you."
"My thanks, mother."
Alicent felt the warmth of her daughter's hand and in the term alike. Though Elaena carried none of her blood, she was her daughter in truth. She still thought it a shame that Elaena had not married one of her own children, but as Alicent was not a Targaryen herself, she could understand the squeamishness over marrying a blood-relation. Aegon and Helaena did not seem to mind, but they were not as worldly nor as knowledgeable as Elaena had been. No doubt she had read texts that forbade the practice of incest, ere anyone thought to explain that the Seven had blessed the Targaryen line as an exception to that rule. Once the notion took root that it was wrong, it likely could not be undone, and so she chose to marry Lefford.
They strolled at a stately pace, Ser Criston and two Lefford knights close at hand as they ventured forth. The weather was mild, with only a touch of wind – enough to cool, but not to muss their hair or garments. Her daughter looked at once both radiant and at peace framed against the backdrop of pleasant nature and scenery.
Alicent smiled a true and joyful smile, rare in these years, as she directed her gaze out and down over the lands.
"These lands are good, you have done well, Elaena. The new city seems to be progressing swiftly."
"Thank you, and it moves forward apace. Sometimes, starting afresh allows for quicker progress. Attempting to fix the drainage and institute a proper waste-disposal system in King's Landing would be costly and difficult. Setting it here, now, ere the true foundations of the city are laid, allowed our abundant labor to be put to use effectively."
Alicent knew the freed Tyroshi slaves had caused problems elsewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, but much less so in the Westerlands. It seemed, however, that they were especially dedicated here, and that her daughter was well pleased by the results.
"I am told that your child will not have a dragon egg?"
"Have you been speaking with Kevan?" Elaena wore an amused smile. "Perhaps I am the only one who does not have qualm with this. I am disappointed, naturally, but there are other options as time progresses. Silverwing, Viktoriya, or perhaps Dreamfyre will lay a clutch again, I am sure. And if not, when the child comes of appropriate age, we can simply find a dragon."
Alicent supposed it was good her daughter was not distressed at the situation so close to the birth. But she could not resist getting in some gentle needling of Rhaenyra's follies.
"Naturally Daenora and Helaena would never deny you; they adore you and would never forbid your children aught."
Elaena gave a small laugh. "Mother, my sister is not here, you can cease your war with her for the duration."
Alicent looked down, slightly shamed. "You are right, forgive me."
"'Tis already forgotten. Come, I'd like to show you a project that Selene has been working on."
Alicent let Elaena's words wash over her. For a moment, they could just be parent and child, as opposed to Queen and princess. The scheming for tomorrow could be set aside for the peace of the present.
***
Aegon had arrived earlier in the day along with the King, Helaena, Daenora, and Daeron. The image of his wife's hair all blown about and tangled after the flight had struck a chord in his heart. Perhaps it was due to the novelty, but he found the ruffled look quite fetching on her, and had made his affections known. Viserys preferred to ride Dreamfyre or Vermithor, as they were more stable than Sunfyre compared to his smaller stature.
They were greeted by the Kingsguard, who had ridden ahead with the Queen in preparation for his father's arrival, along with an honor guard of Lord Lefford's men. He wondered whether they had waited all day or if they knew how long a flight like that would take.
Aegon had visited his sister, who was now in the birthing room, though no sign of her labors had begun. She promised him that she was well, and that he should not worry. Helaena had said the same, but it was hard not to. Elaena had been a powerful fixture in his life for so long that it was dreadful to even contemplate what it would be like if she suffered the same fate as her mother.
The welcoming feast for the King was grand. Trencher bread soaked with rich gravies was passed along the tables, and joints of roasted boar, still steaming, were carved beneath garlands of herbs. Spiced apples and honeyed walnuts lay heaped in silvered bowls; their sweetness would be a welcome contrast to the meat. Ewers of dark wine and small beer never stopped flowing, carried by hurried servants, some of whom were Tyroshi, but their service was as impeccable as any Westerosi.
Nearby lords had also arrived, and Lord Lefford was a genial host. At the start of the feast, he had risen, bowed to the king and then toasted him.
"It is an honor to have you beneath our roof, Your Grace. Ser Kevan begs pardon for his lacking attendance of the feast, for we have just been advised that my good-daughter has begun her labors. She asked me to add that it will be many hours yet, and that any who wish to provide comfort to her must first see to their own needs and ensure they have dined."
Aegon gripped his chair, his concern evident. Helaena placed a comforting hand within his, and leaned somewhat into his shoulder.
"My love, she will be well." His dear wife's gentle whispers brushed against his ear, her tone so mournfully sweet and kind, "She is the strongest of us all."
Thoughts of his wife's words were set aside as little Maegor stood upon his chair.
"I'm going to be a big brother!"
Aemond gave a strangled guffaw, and an awkward silence fell over the table. The boy was a dwarf with only one eye, and it was said he bore scales beneath his clothing. Many held that Elaena had done a great kindness for Daemon and Laena by fostering the boy. But the idea that he would be elder brother to a potential heir of Golden Tooth was a disturbing and fanciful notion, only not a grave insult due to his age and unfortunately self-evident unsuitability.
The King raised his cup. "Maegor, my nephew – your enthusiasm is felt by us all. Come now, all of you, raise your cups in honor of a child's longing for sibling affection."
Aegon did so and smiled at the boy. Aemond raised his, but only a fingerbreadth above the table, and the various lords lifted their cups at the King's command. Some wore stoic expressions, others offered pitying smiles – and a few were even bold enough to appear offended by the King's command.
Daeron spoke softly, but sharply in Aemond's ear and the two looked ready to argue, but Daenora poked Aemond's side with her fork. Slightly amused at his siblings hectoring Aemond, Aegon thought it would serve his reign well if Daenora and Daeron had the ability to minimize Aemond's… unique charms.
Amiable conversation passed as Lefford eagerly regaled the King with the progress made in the new city – new mines opening, roads newly built and the like. When a lull occurred, Aegon's mother cast her gaze to where Laenor and Jace sat. "Jacaerys, where are your siblings? Did they not wish to see Princess Elaena?"
He looked surprised but quickly recovered. "Your Grace, thank you for asking about them. They were eager to do so, but they intend to visit later, once the infant has put some weeks behind his or herself. It would be too much of a burden on their studies if they stayed here for months, and they would rather interact with the babe and mother during that time."
A good response, better than saying they weren't trusted enough to avoid provocation from Aemond. That the Dark Storm trusts you means that you are maturing and trusted enough. I wish you were less competent than you appear, if only to reduce the waste and loss from conflict. Truly, the situation is enough to turn my stomach as it is.
"That is wise," the King said. "I too wish to spend time with my grandson or granddaughter. I'm sure Otto can handle matters within King's Landing easily enough while I am gone. Why stay for a week or two when we can make it months?" He glanced over at his wife. "What do you think, Alicent?"
"I never regret time with Elaena," Aegon's mother replied, expression almost refreshed.
Rhaenys, Laenor's mother, flashed irritation across her face for a moment before it dissolved into equanimity. Lefford looked honored, while his seneschal blanched.
Feeding and hosting the King has its costs. Though, if I know Elaena, she'll arrange for her good-father to be reimbursed out of the treasury.
Aemond grinned. "Well, if we intend to stay awhile, it would be entertaining to see how well the son of the Dark Storm fares in the practice yard. What do you think, father? Shall your children and grandchildren compete for a blessing from you?"
The King nodded. "Aye, but it will be overseen carefully, and none of your sharp tongue shall be heard. You are skilled with the blade, my son; let it do the speaking only."
Aegon was annoyed. He had worked hard to improve his swordsmanship, yet Aemond always bested him. He was older than Jace, who was now ten-and-two, which would make it all the more humiliating if he lost.
Lord Reyne stood. "A fine idea to see our princes clash in the yard. With the King staying longer, why not host a tourney here? I shall be more than willing to put up a worthy prize for the winners. It is past time we had some of our princes knighted! Aemond has already faced battle, and both he and his brothers may be deserving of knighthood if they perform well!"
"A fine idea!" Aegon's father agreed.
Rhaenys objected. "Your Grace, it would take time to bring knights from other lands. Why not delay and host one in King's Landing, with proper time for knights to gather?"
"Princess Rhaenys always provides sound wisdom," the King agreed, "but there is no hurry. A delay will give time for my sons and grandson to prepare. The realm is at peace, we can afford to hold a court of sorts here for the next six months."
More lords and knights applauded the decision, but it was clear the Blacks were not pleased. Jace looked worried, Rhaenys perturbed, and Laenor had an unreadable look in face and body, but his eyes held an almost feral look about them as they darted in multiple directions, it made Aegon's guts clench.
Gods be good, it is like a horse about to throw its rider and stamp him to death. I know not why Ser Laenor does not wish the King to extend his stay, but I fear his control is slipping.
Aegon recalled one of the catechisms taught by Elaena. 'Past performance is no guarantee of future results, but it is indicative of them.' Since Laenor had never broken guest-right, it was likely that trend would continue. The Dark Storm may be an unstoppable and vicious monster when he allowed himself to be, but Aegon surmised his wrath was equaled by his control.
Fear of imminent violence was replaced by worry over his own performance in the upcoming tournament. He was to be the symbol of a proper King, the antithesis of Rhaenyra. Having his brother knighted before him and a lackluster performance would harm that perception.
Gods be good, here I am fretting about a tournament months away when my sister is about to face her worst fear. I can set this worry aside until the babe is born and I know that both mother and child are well. 'Tis not as if I have not done the same for countless other worries that would only trouble Elaena.
***
Is there still no word?" Rhaenyra asked, for what seemed like the dozenth time in the last couple of days.
Rhaenyra was nervously fidgeting as the Maester said that no, no further ravens had arrived. The last had come from King's Landing, saying that the King was on his way to Golden Tooth. She had listened to the old fool prattle on about how some births are swift, while others take days, and that at times, the estimation of when a woman's labors should begin might be mistaken.
As if I have not been with child five times!
With the day of Elaena's birthing approaching, Rhaenyra had begun to grow distraught. If anything went amiss, it would be devastating, and tear at her heart evermore. She should be there. It was Elaena's fault she wasn't, but it pained her nonetheless to be absent. Elaena had always been so terrified of the birthing chamber, and now she faced it without her experienced elder sister.
Jeyne approached. "Your Grace, I have instructed the Maesters to fetch us the moment there is word. I swear to you, save for the Maester, you shall be the first to know how the birthing fares."
The Lady Arryn had been kind and had softened her exile to the Eyrie more than she'd expected. But her efforts had their limits. Rhaenyra longed for Harwin, Laena, and Daemon. She yearned for her children. She missed riding Syrax. There were few souls in the Eyrie, and she was so terribly worried.
Gods please let Elaena live through it. Her and her babe.
Time at the Eyrie had been grievously dull, but now Rhaenyra longed for that dullness to return. It was better than this incessant worry and fear. It was Harwin she longed for most in this moment – he was her foundation, her surest strength, and the one who could best have soothed her fears.
Rhaenyra allowed herself to be led away, and a cup of watered wine was brought to her. After the embarrassing dinner where she had lost her wits, they had gently urged her to temper her libations. She was the heir to the Iron Throne; to be found in her cups while so discomposed imperiled her standing – even if there were few eyes in the Eyrie.
"Shall I fetch the singer? Perhaps a few songs will distract you."
Rhaenyra shook her head. She was in no mood for music.
"Perhaps a warm bath with soothing fragrances? Or dreamwine so that you may rest?"
"No! I want none of those. I desire word of my sister – that is all."
Jeyne sighed, "That is something I cannot give you. Shall I leave you in peace then?"
No… I don't want to be alone.
"Perhaps… just sit with me. Speak of something interesting. I've heard of the savages that at times infest the nearby pass – tell me a tale of how your men slew them in battle, or something of the sort. Just make it stirring, and not something dull like the petty grievances over Gulltown."
Rhaenyra saw a spark of indignation in the eyes of Lady Arryn, but the ruler of the Vale made no further complaint as she began recounting a tale of how the Painted Dogs and the Black Ears had fought against the knights of the Vale. As the story continued, Rhaenyra was struck by a pang of guilt. She recalled only now that Jeyne's father and her brothers had perished fighting the Stone Crows. She had not meant to bring up a sensitive issue as a slight, but only to seek something interesting in which to lose herself.
What would serve me well is a tourney, where I can witness knights fighting with all they have. The rush of jousting knights, the clash of steel in a melee, yes, that would distract me just fine.
Unfortunately, the Eyrie did not boast a large enough garrison, nor a field to conduct a proper joust. They would have to descend the treacherous slope to the Gates of the Moon, and by the time such arrangements were made, word would have arrived about her sister.
She finished her cup and listened with half an ear. Jeyne wasn't a bad tale-teller, but she was no bard. It was better than nothing, and the Paramount Lady of the Vale was clearly trying to show her desire for friendship and a loyal family bond with her. Rhaenyra appreciated that, but it didn't help her in the moment.
As she watched Jeyne's lips move as she spoke, Rhaenyra wondered what it would be like to taste them like she did Laena's. Jeyne was older and not a stunning woman like Laena, but perhaps…
A thought for another day. I cannot flee my fears into a lover's arms whenever I grow afraid. I am the Blood of the Dragon and the Future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I can endure the waiting; Elaena has always been a healthy girl once she grew from her infancy. I can't recall her ever even having a rheum, let alone a serious affliction. She'll be fine. And while I don't wish her the agonies of childbirth, she may yet realize the importance of family and be humbled by her actions against me. The feel of her babe against her skin will make her realize the harm her words have caused me. Yes, she didn't realize the magnitude; otherwise, my loving sister would never have done this to me. I cannot hold too great a grudge against one who acts from ignorance.
Rhaenyra smiled as Jeyne got to the good part about how the cowardly Mountain Clans fled and were run down. Elaena would be well. They would reconcile soon and Rhaenyra could depart from the Eyrie. Everything word work out, it had to.
***
Daenora had reached her tenth name day, and had started out excited to see her new niece or nephew being born. Only it wasn't very exciting, it was rather boring. They had shooed out the menfolk, save for Kevan Lefford, and all that remained were the Maesters, who she supposed were also menfolk, but they didn't count, which was odd to her, but not really important. Besides that, mother, Helaena, Princess Rhaenys, Selene, and Cerenna were there with Elaena.
At first, it was interesting, but nothing was happening. It had been two hours since the feast, and she was just lying there, chatting, occasionally growing silent and closing her eyes. Rhaenys had complimented Elaena's ability to bear the pain with nary a sound. "I simply concentrate on something else, and it eases, but thank you."
Daenora asked questions, like when would her new kin be born, and would it be a boy or a girl. The Maester had glanced at her and ignored her question, but Helaena said it would be several hours yet, but the baby would be there before the dawn.
Elaena had a queer expression on her face, but the head Maester made a huffing sound and said that while that was possible, there was no guarantee.
Before dawn… that could mean another six hours! Agh! Hurry up!
Daenora's mother looked over at her. "Why don't you go let your brothers know that all is well?"
She smiled. "As long as Elaena says she won't do anything without me."
Elaena reassured her, and she left the room and entered the larger sitting area where the boys were waiting. Her father had briefly entered the birthing room and wished Elaena the best, before giving stern instructions to the Maester to wake him from his rest should the babe come, or something else occur. For Aegon, Aemond, Daeron, Jace, and the scary Dark Storm, they had chosen to stay awake.
Ser Criston gave her a nod as she took a seat, observing the game of Cyvasse being played between Aemond and Jace. Aemond was winning, of course – he was renowned as the best in King's Landing after Elaena had moved to Golden Tooth.
"Any word?" Aegon asked her.
"Yes. Nothing is happening, but Helaena says our dearest sister's babe will be here before dawn. Which is so long from now."
"What did the Maesters say?" Aemond asked pointedly.
"He said it might take even longer!"
Ser Laenor chuckled. "Childbirth is like a storm; sometimes they last for days, but no two are alike. Princess Elaena will weather it better than most, however its length."
"We can but place our trust in the Father to be just, and the Mother to be merciful. I have prayed long over Elaena, and in my heart, I know those prayers shall be answered," Daeron said firmly. "Do not fret or worry, all will be well, Daenora."
Aemond snorted as he moved his Dragon across the board, taking an Elephant from a grim-faced Jace, who seemed not to be hearing the conversation at all.
"If you have something to say, brother, say it."
Aemond bore a sidelong smile that Daenora was very familiar with. The tranquility of the room was about to be pierced, and she just barely kept from rubbing her hands in anticipation. Aemond always wrought so much more fun into everything.
"Had you not prayed, would the Father not have been just? The Mother not been merciful?" Aemond asked.
"I do not know, but the Seven-Pointed Star saith that the Seven listen and reward our prayers," Daeron responded.
"How capricious, that the Seven would withhold a safe birth if they do not get enough due from their followers."
Daeron's face darkened. "Are you saying you do not follow the Seven?"
Aemond laughed. "I follow my own path, and need no Gods to chart my course. But I care not to have that argument with you. No, we can presuppose the existence of the Seven for the sake of this discussion. The question is—are you arrogant enough to think that it was your prayers that will tip the balance on Elaena's safe passage through the birthing bed?"
Daeron was about to respond, but then Daenora saw him frown and consider his words. Aemond raised an eyebrow while Jace made another move on the board.
"We, as mortal beings, can never fully understand the ways of the Seven. It is possible that my prayers will make a difference; it is also possible that they will not. But if there is even the slightest chance that they can help, why would you not do the same?"
Aemond barked out a laugh as he moved another piece. Daenora could see Jace's neck grow a bit red as he leaned forward at the board, desperately looking for a way to avoid the all-out assault by her brother's pieces.
"Because it does not. Would you suggest sailors continue wasting salt to ensure a safe voyage on the off chance that it does some good? What a ridiculous notion." Aemond's voice was full of derision. "What should happen if you pray for Jacaerys to be victorious in our match? By all means, do as you like, but do not state something so arrogantly wrong that your 'prayers were answered' when our supremely capable sister makes it through the birthing with nary a worry."
Aegon clapped his brother, Daeron, on the shoulder. "He's just prodding you; you'll learn to ignore his remarks. It will ever be a mystery what he actually believes; he only needles you about it because he knows you will react."
Daenora giggled. That's what made it fun.
"It isn't so bad, and like Elaena says, the more one discusses and debates a topic, the closer everyone gets to the truth," she said with a grin. "So don't spoil it, Aegon. Let them have their spar of words."
Daeron shook his sister. "Apologies, sister, but this is not the time."
Daenora sighed, Daeron seemed so old compared to his age. His dragon was beautiful and she enjoyed flying beside Tessarion with Silverwing, but he was soooo boring and serious. She had thought Aegon was bad, but he was so much worse!
Elaena could take any topic, any story, and turn it into the most fascinating thing for Daenora. Maesters were oft dull beyond belief, but Elaena called their lessons together 'explorations,' and Daenora found it a most fitting word. Like an adventure of knowledge each time! The way her sister spoke and the vividness in her voice captured Daenora's imagination like nothing else, and it made her heart soar whenever Elaena offered congratulations and proud smiles after their discussions together.
With another sigh and the sister who always made the world seem so grand on her mind, Daenora rose from her seat.
"Think of it this way, brother: it has kept us all from our worries, if only briefly. I'm going to go back to see Elaena. Good luck on your match, Aemond."
"As if I need it."
Daenora heard Aegon mutter, "Ass," under his breath as she left. It was enough to bring a final smirk to the corner of her lips.
Upon her return to the room, she waited through the hours of boredom. Waited, for her most amazing sister's sake. For the chance to be first among her siblings to bring the news and greet the babe. Fond memories of Elaena's teachings and stories played out in her mind, while echoes of her sister's voice reminded her of the importance or advantages to patience. Daenora liked many good things, and they often came to those who wait!
Elaena, Rhaenys, and her mother spent most of the time talking. There was a tense sort of air between Princess Rhaenys and her mother, but it was subdued, and neither made an effort to insult or take offense toward the other. Her big sister Helaena was content to draw and stay quiet. Daenora occasionally peeked at the sketches, but couldn't make much out about them.
Despite it taking forever, the Maester announced that the birth would soon be near. Toward the end, it went by quickly – a few quiet grunts and tension from Elaena, just a bit of blood, and the babe was suddenly out. Daenora looked closely, happy to see that the boy looked very healthy and gave a solid cry. Her mother delighted aloud.
"Oh, Elaena, he is beautiful. He has your hair and eyes, but I see Lefford's features all about his little chin. He will be a handsome fellow."
The babe was pronounced healthy and Daenora saw Kevan crying and thanking the Seven.
"You did so well, my love. You did so well, look at our son. Thank you for bringing him to be together with us." He had knelt to hold her in shaky half-embrace, while the babe was tended to before them.
"Have you decided on a name?" the Maester asked.
"Yes," Kevan said, "his name is Fraedrik." Elaena echoed the choice in confirmation with a blended tone of amusement and relief.
Elaena took little Fraedrik back into her arms and to rest against her chest. Daenora was used to Elaena's smiles. They were always pleasant, soft things, carrying subtle hints as to her feelings. But for the first time she could recall, she saw that smile broaden immensely, her whole face so deeply open and expressive. It was one of the most beautiful things Daenora had ever seen.
When that expression turned to her as well, Elaena's joy so free and shared, so inviting, it felt as if Daenora's heart had climbed into her throat whilst tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. The warmth and tingling sense of gladness and bliss they shared as she hugged her sister's side and helped cradle her nephew would linger in Daenora's heart for hours.