Chapter 8: Chapter 8
258AC – 259AC
Looking at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but admit that I looked very dapper. Taking it in one more time, I did a little twirl and smiled, "You sir, have done a very good job. More than I asked for." I said to the tailor that had done a very good job in tailoring the very modern looking suit from nothing more than a drawing I had given him.
Even more surprised that a working, modern zipper had actually been added to the trousers.
The tailor bowled a little from where he stood, "You praise me too much, my prince."
"I praise you too little you mean. You certainly deserve your title of the best tailor in the city."
I had nothing against the clothes of the period and some of those very clothes were very cool looking, but really, I was the type to wear jeans or joggers or tracksuits. I think tracksuits were a little bit out of my league but joggers were doable.
And that had nothing to do with the suit apart from the fact that I just wanted to show off with this very brilliant looking fashion that no-one had ever seen before in their entire life. I rubbed at my breast were an embroidered three headed, red dragon lay.
Not really a choice of mine, sort of ruined the suit, but had to show the family colours and heraldry and all that bollocks.
Princess Shaera Targaryen, my mother or Aerys' mother or whatever, took a moment to observe the obviously very strange clothing I wore, walking around me like some sort of lioness looking for some sort of weakness on her prey, "Never seen a fashion like this before," She said eventually, stopping in front of me as she smoothed down any creases in the fabric on my shoulders, "...But I admit, I like it. It's very new and something never seen before."
"Which is the problem." Black Betha remarked, another female relative that had taken it upon themselves without invite to make sure that I looked appropriate for the ceremony that was to come, "It looks fashionable and nice, I admit, but something that other might not take as appropriate for a royal wedding."
Yes. Wedding.
My second one to the same woman in more accepted circumstances and appropriate venue that wasn't a tree.
I had completely forgotten about this little thing despite having talked about it with Egg and Jaehaerys when I had first made it into the city. In my defence, that had been weeks ago and other things had been more on my mind than anything else.
"I wasn't aware there was some sort of dress code to a royal wedding." I said, releasing myself from my mother's grip as I made my way to the side for a glass the decanters that held a selection of fine winery. I needed a drink.
Queen Betha was more than willingly to let me know that a dress code did in fact exist, "The finest clothing a lord owns." Which wasn't much of an explanation in truth.
I stopped short of the drinks and looked at my grandmother. I think she ignored the look on my face that was probably more along the lines of incredulity, "I'm wearing Myrish silks among other things. Expensive ones at that. Last time I checked, that's more than some lords own." This entire suit had cost me more than a pretty penny.
Silks from Myr that were considered the finest. Wool as well for the suit.
"You are missing the point." Betha returned and my mother rolled her eyes.
"What point?" I asked, confused. I think I had a right to be confused, what point was I missing?
Princess Shaera moved forward and put a gentle hand to my face. Her eyes smiled as she made it far more relatable to me, "I think what my lady mother is trying to say that your...suit," She said slowly, "Might cause more a spectacle and people to talk about something else other than a wedding of a prince of the blood."
I nodded, "That's the whole point. They are supposed to talk about how fantastic I look." To be honest, I admit, I was a bit of a peacock back on Earth, but only when it mattered such as nights out, but I had slowly come to realise that I tended to dress up even more nowadays.
I suspect that was something I subconscious picked up from Aerys.
The ends of Shaera's lips twitched and threatened to widen in full blown laughter, "And what of your lady wife? This is her day as well."
"Well too bad for her." I returned easily enough, "She should have put more effort into it."
Black Betha snorted in the back, "I think you pampered him too much Shaera. Never seen a lord care so much for his appearance more than him before."
To be honest, that was probably true. If things didn't change, then until Renly was born, if that was still going to happen, then she was in for a shock. If she lived long enough to see him become a young adult that is.
One of the things I remembered from the books was that apparently, Renly dressed far better than the ladies of the court. That and he mostly outspend most of them when it came to that department.
Shaera pinched one of my cheeks as if I was a child, "I love him just as he is. Including all his bad faults."
Bad faults? Lady, I was perfect. Didn't know what she was talking about. I removed her hand and fingers away from my cheek, "I think it's about time that we began making our way to the Great Sept."
"Still grumbling about that?" Queen Betha more or less asked. She shook her head as she smoothed out the skirts of her dress, "Yes, I know we have a sept right here in the Red Keep, big enough to seat near all the great lords and then some, but the commons must also see you on this auspicious day."
"They have seen me plenty enough this past month."
Her eyes rested on me, dark eyes looking for something...probably, "Yes. Some, but not all."
"And anyhow, Father has marked this day as a day of celebration." The princess that was my mother injected into the conversation, "Has made preparations for the people to see their prince marry his northern love. Would you take that away from them?"
Yes. But I didn't let them know that.
She held out an arm, "Come now, I think it's time we go." She said as I hooked my arm around hers.
And so we went.
Branda and her own entourage that included ladies-in-waiting and her family had gone ahead to the Great Sept. Whilst she had taken a carriage, I was to ride a horse.
Because you know, reasons. Even if I far preferred the less active option of riding in a carriage.
Targaryen guardsmen numbering in the hundreds and goldcloaks had littered the main road that led directly from the castle to the sept, acting as living cordons from the thousands of thousands of smallfolk that were cheering and shouting their good graces and praises.
I waved and smiled as I rode along the street, my own entourage including my sort of quasi-best men since such a position didn't exist consisting of Steffon Baratheon and Tywin Lannister. Steffon was waving and shouting and since Tywin didn't smile, he had gone for the closest thing that he would be able to do, which was give as something as close to a warm expression he could give.
We made good progress and it was already noon with the sun hanging lazily atop us by the time we reached the Great Sept of Baelor. Even at a distance, the sept looked far too big and even closer, it looked even more ridiculously big.
Apparently, when it came to architecture and structural engineering...if that was a thing, the Westerosi really knew their stuff considering how big everything was. Then again, GRRM's lack of scale was evidently known among the fandom, so I suppose that also translated somehow into the fictional world that he had created.
Branda had been waiting for me just before the great oaken doors decorated with holy symbols that led into the mail hall of the sept. I admit, I sort of paused for a moment to take another look at my wife and well, I had admit, she looked even more hella pretty with her hair done and make-up and all that malarky applied as well.
She studied me for a second when she saw before raising an eyebrow, "What are you wearing?"
"Clothes." I replied as I neared my approach to her, "What are you wearing? Because whatever it is, it's certainly working for you."
Her eyebrows narrowed some, "Oh? Could it be that whatever else I'm wearing doesn't work for me most of the time?"
I blinked and opened and closed my mouth a few times. I see how my comment could be taken. Had to save my arse here, "You make everything you wear work for you, my lady." I said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, "You know that." Behind me, I could hear Steffon trying to be quiet with his laughing at my expense. If he wasn't so scarily strong and faster than me, I would give the not so little bastard a whack on the head.
"I would hope so." She turned towards the heavy doors as they were slowly being opened, "Now, I believe it's time we get this mummer's farce over and done with already."
When the doors were fully open into the cavernous main hall of the sept, my hand had found Branda's and having recited this quite a couple of times, we made our way towards the altar that stood between the Mother and the Father. Safe to say, I was at the side were the Father stood and Branda were the Mother stood.
There were probably hundreds upon hundreds of rows of lords that had travelled from all across Westeros to be here for this very ceremony. All of them no doubt were wearing their House colours with their crests on show, but damned if I could remember any of them since I wasn't particularly paying attention to any of them.
Plenty of witnesses that couldn't be denied the validity of this entire marriage.
Right, let's just get things out here out in the open and everything.
I hate weddings.
Well, hate is a strong word. It's just I don't particularly care for them. To me, marriage was essentially trusting someone with half my stuff and that was if I was lucky when it came to the divorce terms, because honestly, I was never much for optimism. I was born a cynic and sceptic and marriage was one of those things that had far too many negatives and uncertainties for me to ever be swayed by the idea.
I respected people that were somehow able to tolerate each other's presence for as long as they did, like my grandparents had been going on with each other for sixty years strong, but that was a statistical outlier as far as I was concerned. I just didn't care for marriage and in that regard weddings.
In this case, it was more along the lines I didn't particularly have a choice. It was either get married to my sister or to someone who was not my sister. I doubt I could have convinced someone to let me be a bachelor for the rest of my life.
So I think that qualified for the old saying that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
So yeah, I dislike weddings and marriages which is why it was all a blare as far as I was concerned. Mostly because I tried my best to lose myself in my thoughts so that everything could just go by faster. Of course this being a wedding inside a church, I'm sure there was some singing, praying and vows being taken.
Then came the changing of the cloaks, signalling that my wife had left the protection of her father, Rodrik Stark and into the protection of her husband, me. I think the most interesting part of the entire ceremony happened to have been that particular part.
Why? Because my goodfather just so happened to give me the whole 'hurt her, and I'll make you pay' spiel. Again.
I was beginning to think that he did the entire thing again just because he was about as bored as I was to the whole wedding ceremony. I'm pretty sure the northern version of the wedding had ended faster than this.
People clapped and cheered when everything was done. We made our way outside the hall and into the great big world outside. Standing atop the great marble stairs that led towards the Great Sept, me and Branda, hand in hand, raised our hands up into the sky for all the cheering smallfolk to see.
They were somehow louder than the all of the hundreds of people that had been inside the sept by quite the number of decibels. Probably had something to do with them being, you know, numbering in the thousands.
After that, things got messy. It started off nice enough with a ride back to the castle, me and my wife with every noble in tow behind us. Then came the reception and the drinking and then everything went dark.
I might have drank too much. Hopefully, I didn't make an idiot out of myself too much.
XxX
I hate life and everything that it entailed. Like at this very moment, I hated everyone in this very room.
I was beginning to think that they were making all this noise just to see me suffer as I tried my best to weather through the massive hangover that was going on in my head.
I hated Benjen Stark the most out of everyone in the world. His laughter was certainly far different than I last remembered it and it certainly wasn't as boom-y as it was now as he roughly patted me on my back, "At least now I understand why you didn't drink as much when you wed at Winterfell. Who knew you were such a lush?"
I wasn't. It was because Aerys' body didn't have anything on my old body when it came to endurance. I shied away from him, "Please stop. The drums in my head are loud enough as it is."
Uncle Duncan smiled at the side, "I suppose we should have stopped you earlier. Most would be worried on whether you were capable of bedding your lovely wife, but I suppose that is something we don't have to worry about considering the circumstances."
Don't know how he was doing it and how he seemed completely fine considering the fact that I'm sure the man had outdrank many of the other lords last night, Rodrik Stark was busy enjoying himself a mug of beer and didn't seem to be suffering anything like I was, "Some of the other lords might have that very same question on their minds right about. Most of them southrons I saw didn't seem all too bright."
Prince Duncan laughed. I eyed Rodrik with disbelief, "How are you drinking even now? You drank more than enough last night."
My goodfather scoffed, "I'm insulted that you have to ask. I come from good northern stock. We are far more durable than you foppish southrons."
"In their defence, uncle, not all the southrons are foppish." Brandon said from the side, flipping away at the pages of some book he probably found in the royal library. He looked up from his reading, "Ser Duncan, Lord Ormund among others don't look quite as foppish as you seem to insist the southrons are."
Rodrik snorted, "Bah, a few good eggs doesn't hide the bad ones."
"I hope I am among those few good eggs, Lord Brandon." Prince Duncan said with a smile, always with a smile with that guy.
The Wandering Wolf drank from his mug, "We'll see, my friend. We'll see."
Actually, why where these people here? Last time I checked, this was my solar and they had been here the moment I stepped out from mine and Branda's personal chambers. Before I could voice this particular question, the door opened and I groaned, wondering who else was here to make this particular day worse for me.
I quirked an eyebrow when the others rose to their feet and bowed and noticed that it was my grandfather that had walked in. I quickly got to my feet and regretted it as a wave of nausea hit me from the speed of the act. I bowed as safely as I could, "Grandfather." I said in greeting whilst the others apart from Prince Duncan greeted with the standard 'Your Grace' and the prince with the not so standard 'Father'.
King Aegon had a rather serious looking expression on her face as he motioned the others to retake their sits, "Please, do sit."
Prince Duncan noticed his expression and the tone that he was using. He didn't take his seat and instead leaned forward slightly, a hand resting on the table that laid in the middle of the room, "What is it, Your Grace?"
Prince Aegon looked from wherever he was looking to Duncan and then to everyone around the room. He sighed, "I suppose it makes no matter as I'm sure the news will spread throughout the court and the city soon enough."
"News?" Rodrik asked, interest in the tone of his voice.
"The Band of Nine has met underneath the Tree of Crowns and have vowed to help each other pursue their goals."
I blinked. Band of Nine? I think I should know what that meant.
Rodrik frowned, "Band of Nine? Last time I heard, there were eight of them. Who's the ninth?"
"Maelys Blackfyre." King Aegon replied tonelessly.
Everyone in the solar was quiet as the news sank in. No really, the news sank in as I realised what this fucking meant. The fucking Ninepenny War.
Brandon moved towards the table, "I doubt this Band of Nine have joined together just for a picnic."
His brother was biting at his lip, "Underneath a rather ominous sounding Tree of Crowns? Must be one hell of a picnic." He looked from his father towards the king, "It's going to be another Blackfyre War isn't it?"
The king could only nod, "By the looks of it, aye."
"Which Blackfyre Rebellion is it going to be now? I've lost count. They've been far too many of them." Rodrik growled as he clenched at his mug, "Bout time the entire line is dealt with once and for all. Put an end to these Pretenders."
Considering he now had family that would be in harms way if the Blackfyres were able to install themselves as the King of the Seven Kingdoms, I wasn't surprised that he would be all up for killing them all.
"It would be the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion, good ser." Prince Duncan said as he slowly took his seat, "But we mustn't be quick to make any rush decisions. This...'Band of Nine' has yet to make any moves that could threaten us."
Wolf-like eyes darted towards the prince, "Doesn't mean we just have to sit here waiting for this Maelys or whatnot to come and ram us up the rear. If we are not going to meet them wherever the Band is, we might as well prepare."
"That we shall, my lord." King Aegon said, iron, controlling tones heard in his voice, "I've already begun making preparations in case this Band of Nine is truly a threat to the realm."
"Well, at least look at it this way," The others suddenly had their attentions on me, "Whatever crowns these lot are after, they mustn't be worth much considering they are being sold nine a penny."
Was that the right time to throw that little quip? Considering some of them laughed and smiles played on the lips of the rest, then yes, I suppose that was more than enough.
And like that, I just gave the name of the future conflict. Awesome.
I think the Ninepenny War occurred in 260AC and it was now late 258AC, so if everything was still going according to the original timeline, I still had a year at the very least before the Golden Company and their allies made their move for Westeros.
I suppose I could work with that.
As if I needed any sort of incentive to actually want to get my ass beaten by my uncle or goodfather or anyone who was willing to open a whole can of whoop ass on my ass.
Fun.
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