Chapter 51: Chapter 45 - Obligations
A/N: This will be a short expository chapter on Elaegelle, and then one more chapter before the next timeskip.
Thanks to Fierymatter and Ascalon on SB for beta-ing.
Chapter XLV: Obligations
18 AC
Rhoyehom (Godsgrace)
Elaegelle Targaryen
When Elaegelle learned she was to be fostered with Arin Rada of Dornia (Dorne), she felt exceedingly conflicted.
The excessive bullying by her siblings and the dagger-like whispers behind her back served to erode away her self-esteem. This began because she could not claim a dragon for herself, all because of the mark of Balerion on her hand. She hated it every time she looked at it, wishing she could be rid of it. Perhaps then she could finally claim her own dragon and end the bullying.
But it was a childish fantasy; one does not simply wish a mark of the Gods to go away.
On the other hand, despite the bad memories, she had good times in Daro Vilinion (King's Landing) as well. Her parents raised her with all their love, strict but kind and always attentive whenever she faced problems she could not solve by herself, and made good friends who stood by her despite her reputation, including Ser Jaehaerys Caldaeron who served as her sworn sword.
Her parents ultimately convinced her that rather than let her stay in a poisonous environment where everyone else was out to demean her, it was better to distance herself and live without such toxic influences.
"Ser Jaehaerys?"
The Paletillian knight turned to face Princess Elaegelle, his black armour gleaming brightly under the sun.
"Yes, My Princess?" Asked Jaehaerys.
"What's Dornia like?"
"Well... according to the stories, a rich and prosperous nation lush with greenery where once there was desert," Jaehaerys began, "A land where magic thrives and mighty walls and castles of stone protect its people, where snaking caravans brimming with gold and jewellery choke its highways daily."
"Sounds very nice," Elaegelle mumbled, clutching her hand tighter, "What's Grand Duke Rada like?"
"I am not so certain about him, My Princess," Jaehaerys admitted, "Many say he was a chosen of the Gods, sent to uplift the Rhoynar and save them from extinction, that he is a visionary who willingly treads where no man dares to go. Others say he is a monster wearing Human skin, willing to slaughter anyone who dares disobey his orders or disrupt his vision for Dornia, due to his ruthless purging of the old Dornish nobility."
Elaegelle said nothing to that, narrowing her eyes.
"And my parents want me to foster under him?" She questioned.
Jaehaerys said, "Despite the rumours, he is a trustworthy man, and has shown nothing but the utmost respect for the Targaryens [1]. In fact, if not for him, Dornia would not be under House Targaryen's rule by now."
"I see," Elaegelle said, "How much longer until we reach Rhoyehom (Godsgrace)?"
Jaehaerys then turned to one of the sailors and asked, "How much farther from our destination?"
"Not long now, Milord! Look there, in the distance!" The sailor replied, pointing towards a looming monument.
The tall walls of Rhoyehom loomed in the distance, glittering as if chiselled from huge blocks of amethyst, and thick, tall towers jutted out from behind the walls like little houses built into mountains. Large ships thronged the docks, unloading goods to supply ravenous marketplaces and customers.
Elaegelle felt her breath taken away as she laid eyes upon Rhoyehom. Daro Vilinion (King's Landing) was an equally impressive and mighty city, the Red Keep a symbol of power and authority dominating all others, but it held a far more oppressive air in comparison and was primarily coloured in black, crimson or purple [2].
As their galleon docked, they stepped off the gangplank and were immediately accosted by a lone man, stylus and clipboard in hand.
"Excuse me, Ser," Said the man, "I'm the harbourmaster here, and I just need to confirm with you if you are the Royal Transport for Princess Elaegelle Targaryen?"
"We are, Ser," Said Ser Jaehaerys, procuring a letter, "Grand Duke Rada is expecting us."
The Harbourmaster inspected the letter for a moment. After a cursory glance, he gave Ser Jaehaerys a nod and handed the letter back, before scribbling a few words on his clipboard. He then handed both board and stylus to the knight.
"Please sign over here, good Ser," He beckoned.
Jaehaerys obliged. Once this task was done, the harbourmaster smiled and said, "Welcome to Rhoyehom, My Princess, good Sers and Madams. A guide will arrive shortly to escort you to the Ducal Palace. Please, enjoy your stay."
As the harbourmaster took his leave, a group of Mareqavi - Dornia's equivalent of elite knights - arrived as scheduled, and their captain bowed respectfully to the Targaryen party.
"I am Captain Gawyn of the Mareqavi," He greeted, "Please follow me, I shall take you to the Ducal Palace."
"Lead the way, Good Ser," Ser Jaehaerys nodded.
Elaegelle said, "They all seem respectful."
"From what I hear, their staff are nothing but professional, My Princess," Ser Jaehaerys remarked, "Come, we make our way to the Ducal Palace."
The Targaryen party walked the streets of Rhoyehom with pomp and circumstance, and the people were quick to clear the way as they bowed respectfully. Looking around, Elaegelle found the interior of Rhoyehom to be even more impressive than the exterior; the streets were clean and paved with chiselled stone, and the people well-dressed and well-fed unlike most smallfolk elsewhere. Every building, be it house or shophouse, was built like a noble's manor, and the air smelled of clean flowers, trees and bushes interspersed every few dozen steps.
According to the Dornians, Rhoyehom was a garden city, where nature coexisted in harmony with industry and urban development. It was a type of city Elaegelle quickly found herself enamoured with.
"My Princess, Sers and Madams, His Lordship bids me to welcome you to the Ducal Palace," Captain Gawyn informed.
The Palace itself was a massive structure, simpler yet grander in architectural design that displayed the very best characteristics of Rhoynish architecture, an emperor's home far surpassing a kingly palace. Dismounting from their horses, staff were quick to guide the steeds towards homely stables as the Mareqavi escorted the Targaryen delegation inside the Palace.
Looking at the architectural beauty and simplicity of the palace, its state of cleanliness, the respectful demeanour and state of health of the Palace staff as she passed by them, Elaegelle concluded that Dornia was as advanced as Valyria at its prime, hard as it was to admit.
Soon they reached the throne room, and Elaegelle beheld the dignified forms of Arin and Belandra Rada, who seemed more king and queen than her own parents ever were. And despite being in their forties, they looked as if they were thirty years old instead - a quirk of Rhoynar magic perhaps. They eyed her with a steely gaze, a cautious temperance borne of years of experience. For a moment, she swallowed subconsciously as she nodded slightly in respect.
"We bid you and your party welcome to Rhoyehom, Princess Elaegelle," Arin smiled as he greeted her.
"I am honoured to be here, Grand Duke Rada," Elaegelle replied, her lips forming a calm smile, "I must say though, Rhoyehom is an excellent city."
"We appreciate it, Princess," Belandra smiled back, "We hope you have a most pleasant stay."
Elaegelle was used to blank masks whose smiles never reached their eyes, and Visenya always made sure her daughter learned the harsh realities of politics as was befitting of a proper scion of House Targaryen, so she always reiterated like a mantra.
Yet when she looked into the faces of Arin and Belandra, for some reason there was genuine concern in their eyes, as if they could see through her own mask and realise the inherent struggles she faced in her own mind.
It both terrified and confused her; why would they show concern for a complete stranger, disregarding her Targaryen lineage?
It's just my imagination; I cannot imagine the Black Fox harbouring any sympathy for me.
What will become of her fostering under the care of Arin Rada? Only time would tell.
IIOII
Arin Rada
"So we are fostering King Aegon's and Queen Visenya's youngest daughter, father?"
Azella Rada, at the age of thirty-and-two, was remarkably youthful-looking and active for a woman of her age (never said upfront), her face free of wrinkles and filled with an enthusiastic yet diligent demeanour that endeared her to countless bosses of guilds. Her body was amply curvaceous and supple, sporting a figure many would call a 'body fit for milf pornstars'.
She wore clothing made of silk and wool dyed with simple 'zen' colours and embroidered with intricate patterns evoking memories of tranquil rivers, fast horses and the wide grassy plains. Her attire consisted of a crimson kurtashk [3] over a long-sleeved white tunic and breeches, polished leather boots poking out beneath her robe, a Saoidhar sheathed by her side.
"Indeed, daughter, though I have to admit I was not expecting this at all," Arin admitted, scratching his head, "I mean, they've never made any move to foster their children anywhere else outside King's Landing, much less Paletillia, which is why this out-of-the-blue move is quite outlandish."
"I can imagine," Azella sighed, "What of the Tian Feng Huang? I only heard rumours here and there, but nothing concrete."
"They brought me more rumours, and slightly disconcerting facts," Arin answered, his face grim, "They said that Elaegelle has been marked by Balerion, chief of the Fourteen Flames, but practically every hatchling in the dragonpit has adamantly refused to bond with her, even the recently-hatched."
"What?" Azella's mind screeched to a halt, "That can't possibly be right."
"At first I thought the same, but during my brief stays in the capital for every Small Council meeting, I noticed persistent rumours that Elaegelle is the subject of relentless bullying by her own siblings and malicious rumours among the nobility," Arin added, his eyes narrowing, "Discounting the absurdity of her repeated dragon-taming failures, I don't think this is a lie."
"If that's the case… maybe I begin to see the reason why," Azella said, "I think they wanted her away from all that malicious influence, so she can grow up safely. As parents, I imagine their decision to be a difficult one."
"Yes, they've always been exceptionally caring and patient with their children, though their arrogance is no less infuriating," Arin admitted.
"Even so, to think she was suffering so much… It angers me," Azella grit her teeth, clenching her fists.
Arin patted her shoulder, and she was quick to master her anger.
"At least she can spend eight fruitful years away from the cesspit of King's Landing's politics," Azella said smilingly, "Who did she bring with her, by the way?"
"A retinue of Valyrian knights and sorcerers, led by Ser Jaehaerys Calderon," Arin answered.
"I see," Azella nodded, "I just pray no one uses her as a pawn."
"Technically I am also in a position to use her, and I may if circumstances make me feel it is necessary," Arin stated matter-of-factly.
"If you were that kind of person, I doubt you would," Azella smiled knowingly.
"On that note, exactly how long are you going to wait?" Asked Arin, "You're nearly past the prime of your life, and you still have not married."
Azella's lips puckered and curled into a deep frown, and she broke eye contact as she turned her gaze away. Arin simply sighed.
"Look, I know the Bhreynar are your responsibility, and I know you've had so much on your plate to deal with, but that is exactly why you need someone you can confide in," Arin stated softly and compassionately, "I say this as your father: You cannot hope to shoulder the burdens of the world alone."
Azella sighed, but did not turn to look back.
"Just… remember this piece of advice when things turn sour for you."
This time, Azella dared peek back at her father, who did not judge and only showed him his heartfelt support and understanding.
She then turned and left without a word.
IIOII
Arpaz Tyl
Azella Rada
Returning to the keep of Arpaz Tyl, Azella slumped back on her sofa and let her physical and mental fatigue claim her.
"What's the matter, My Lady?"
Azella turned to face Temujin, once a young boy she took under her wing. Now tall, masculine and confident, he was dressed in simple yet fine clothing, his face marked with countless tattoos [4] and his hair tied in an intricate crown braid.
"I-It's nothing, Temujin. I'm just a little tired," Azella weakly evaded, leaning onto the sofa.
Temujin was unconvinced, but said nothing as he put down the scrolls and documents in his hands on Azella's desk, then moved towards the sofa where Azella lay.
"May I sit next to you?" Temujin asked.
Azella peeled her hand away to point next to her, and Temujin took his place by her side.
"Temujin, I…"
Her lips trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears.
"Please, treat this as if I'm talking to myself," She said.
Temujin nodded at her, then fixed his gaze forward.
"Have you ever wondered why even now, I have not married?" Azella began, her voice shaky and emotional, "Why even though I remain single and have not once taken a paramour for myself?"
Azella took a deep breath, sobbing softly as she wiped tears from her eyes.
"I feel responsible, for defying everyone else and willfully taking the Bhreynar under my wing, for causing unnecessary trouble for my family. I want so much to talk to them, to tell them of my troubles, but… I'm the eldest daughter of the family, and I can't ask them for any more than I have to."
Without thinking, Temujin embraced Azella and kissed her on the lips, catching her completely off-guard. Yet she did not resist or push Temujin away, merely staring at him with eyes wide.
"Temujin?"
"I… I have always loved you, My Lady," Temujin declared boldly, "And you do not need to shoulder your burdens alone; I am and will always be here for you."
"Temujin… I have always loved you as a son," Azella admitted, "I'm almost twice your age; are you sure you want me?"
"Yes. For a thousand times, yes," Temujin reaffirmed, caressing her cheek softly, "Ever since I was young, I loved you as a mother, and a woman."
Azella blushed a deep shade of magenta, unused to such a bold and heartfelt declaration. Admittedly, she had rejected countless marriage offers before, both those recommended by her father and others who independently approached her, but that was more because none of them were willing to share in her work of uplifting 'uncultured barbarians'.
"You do realise getting together with me will set countless tongues wagging?" Azella pointed out, "Married or otherwise."
"I do not care," Temujin shook his head, "I do not care if you have to marry someone else; I will always love you and am willing to serve you in any capacity."
In hindsight, Temujin, having been groomed to be a tactful, insightful and responsible leader under her care, Azella knew Temujin was the best governor for Arpaz Tyl and community leader of all the Bhreynar. Intricately familiar with their evolving culture and government, gentle and kind yet stern and impartial, able to manoeuvre every echelon of society with little difficulty.
His notable flaws, on the other hand, are that he had an almost single-minded hatred for slavery and anyone associated with the practice, and that unlike the compassionate Azella he had a penchant for ruthlessness; one time, when he led an ambush against several slaver caravans, he ordered the slavers and their goons flayed alive and their bodies fed to hungry dogs.
But there is no such thing as a good leader with clean, untarnished hands. And none of the slaver states are good allies anyway.
And it was here that inspiration hit her.
I am such a fool; Temujin is the perfect marriage candidate.
Marrying Temujin would send a strong message of acceptance on the societal and political level, that House Rada had made tacit its approval of the Dothraki on Dornian soil and they were a people under protection of Ducal authority. And since she was already past what many considered acceptable marriageable age, she doubted she would find any takers anywhere else.
"Are you truly willing to love me, this middle-aged woman, as your lover - your wife?" Asked Azella, hope and love blossoming in her heart.
"Yes, Azella," Said a tearful, smiling Temujin.
"I know you know, but I am quite a handful," Azella remarked jokingly.
Temujin merely smiled, and then Azella locked lips with him, their tongues twirling and locking as saliva trailed off their mouths. When they parted, a string of saliva connected their tongues, their faces flushed and their eyes dilated.
"Please, Temujin, claim me as your wife," Azella pleaded.
Temujin was too happy to oblige.
[1] Jaehaerys Calderon only said this because he does not see beneath the surface of the man himself. As such, he does not truly comprehend that Arin Rada only served the Targaryens due to personal interest and gain.
[2] Black, Crimson and Purple are the primary colours used in Valyrian culture, for they denote power and domination.
[3] Kurtashk - A traditional Bhreynar outer garment worn over other clothing. It is a long robe with no sleeves, usually reaching below the knees, and usually tied with a long, wide sash called a Karkast. In winter, fur lining can be attached to keep the wearer warm, or a cloak. It is as much a practical garment as a decorative one.
[4] The Dothraki never practised the art of tattooing. The modern Bhreynar inherited it from Rhoynar tattoo artists who struggled to preserve a dying art, due to it falling out of practice in modern Dornian society.
The Bhreynar eagerly embraced the art and adapted it into their everyday lives, using different styles and symbols to represent their individual cultural and religious beliefs.
A/N: The next chapter will be a wedding chapter for Azella and Temujin, so stay tuned!
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