Chapitre 384: 4
Chapter 4: Chapter 3: The Wayward PrincessChapter Text
"I have a kingdom of my own here."
-Saera Targaryen, the Wayward Princess, when asked if she meant to return to Westeros
101 AC, Harrenhal
Loud cheers and whoops came from the crowd of children as the massive grey elephant picked a child up with its trunk, placing her delicately onto the palanquin on its back. It trumpeted once, before lumbering around, the dozen children on its back laughing and squealing. It's handlers were skilled. The driver delicately guiding her mount through the courtyard, carefully avoiding trampling any child even as her fellow elephant handlers, backed by a couple of guards in Strong livery, herded the kids away from the behemoth.
Meanwhile, in a shaded corner of the courtyard, the elephant's owner, a certain Valarr Maegyr of Volantis, was laughing with the parents of the children, japing and toasting them, throwing around gold like sand. Beside him sat two of his half brothers, Jaehaerys and Matarys. All three bastard sons of Saera Targaryen, the Old King's wayward daughter. Teenagers one and all, no older than fourteen. Heck, I was pretty sure Valarr was only twelve.
It was like a corner of sin and opulence. Valarr was clearly the leader of the trio, despite being the youngest. Surrounding him were his servants and slaves. All of them young and nubile ladies, scantily clad in gossamer and silk. Whores from his mother's brothel? They poured wine and flirted, sitting in the laps of the lords surrounding the Triarch's son and letting the men—including Daemon— take them into the rooms of the castle.
I couldn't resist laughing myself silly at the sight of Jaehaerys Junior meeting his namesake, ducking behind the Cargyll twins to prevent the King from seeing me. Aunt Saera had a wicked sense of humour, which I found not only accurate, but absolutely hilarious. Jaehaerys Junior was the spitting image of his grandfather and namesake, though one that smiled more oft than not, with an infectious laugh.
He shrugged off every insult his grandfather threw at him, being polite and charming, absolutely refusing to get riled up. Staunchly refusing to give the Old King any excuse to throw him out of Harrenhal. His brothers were much the same, all affable and unflappably polite. I honestly thought that they were more amused than annoyed by Jaehaerys' rudeness.
"Do they honestly expect that they can win?" Laenor confusedly asked. "They're bastards from a younger daughter and foreigners. And Grandpapa will hang them before he gives them his throne."
"No." I shrugged. "They're not here to win."
"Then what are they here for?" Laena asked, watching as Grandpapa angrily stomped off, the three brothers waiting until he was out of sight before laughing at him.
I pointed at a couple of merchants in the courtyard, advertising their wares.
"What are they here for?" I asked back.
"To earn coin from the spectacle." Laenor replied, blinking as the notion sunk in. "Wait, you mean…"
I nodded.
"They're here to make connections, advertise their mother, and annoy Grandpapa on Aunt Saera's behalf." I confirmed. "Not to actually win the Great Council."
"That's surprisingly smart." Laena muttered. "Pity Grandpapa doesn't like them."
"Pity indeed." I sighed. "So far Saera has impressed me the most out of all our living relatives."
"What?!" Both Velaryons demanded, necks spinning so fast I feared they might get whiplash.
I pointed down to Jaehaerys Junior, whom was sparring a knight, his curved sabre striking out, snake-like, and knocking the longsword out of the knight's hand.
"Yield." Junior barked, the knight in Lannister livery announcing surrender. The teenager that so looked like his grandfather then proceeded to gallantly pick up his opponent's blade and offer it to him, hilt-first. Before proceeding to jovially clap the man on his back and praising his technique, to the cheers of the surrounding watchers.
"Jaehaerys Junior over there has the brawn, the charm and the look." I stated. "Aunt Saera sent him not only to annoy Grandpapa, but to impress the lords and ladies of Westeros, showing them that her line has both the looks and the skill."
I next moved on to Valarr, whom was cheerfully telling a story about the his mother's younger and wilder days, which were torridly raunchy and debauched, though the crowd of men and women were listening intently in scandalised rapture. It was like watching a building go up in flames. You knew you should run, but you just had to look.
Meanwhile, all around them, his whores were seducing and pouring wine, getting his crowd aroused and drunk, and generally more amicable.
"Valarr is the son of the Triarch, and has all the wealth and power that implies." I added. "His openhandedness and generosity will make him many friends today, and his father's power will make shrewd lords cozy up to him."
"Many business deals could be struck today." Laena mused, watching as his elephant put the kids back down on the ground. "He's making an impression on the lords. Making connections and friends."
"And don't forget the profit he's making on the side." Laenor added, staring intently. "He's brought many traders and merchants with him to ply their wares. Spices and silk are cheap in Volantis, but worth their weight in silver here in Westeros. The same goes for our wines and velvet. Once his holds are filled with our trade goods, he can sail home and sell them for thrice what he bought them for. At least."
"My point exact." I nodded. "Aunt Saera sent him to show us how much power and wealth her line has."
"But then what of him?" Laena asked, pointing at Matarys, sitting in a corner and playing cyvasse quietly.
"He's here to show Saera's line has brains." I simply said, nodding down at the man in question. "Quiet and bookish he may be, he's the one that's actually running the show they're putting on."
It was a subtle thing, but I could see the way he was drawing men and women alike to him, charming them by reciting poetry from places as far away as Qarth, wittily chatting and smiling with the people he sat with.
Saera had chosen the sons to send well. Beauty, brains and brawn. Charm, power and cunning.
"How exactly has our wayward aunt impressed you?" Laenor demanded. "She's a whore at best!"
"And yet she has a kingdom of her own in Volantis. She's a Triarch in all bit name." I pointed out, nodding at Valarr. "His father Talion Maegyr hasn't lost an election for the last decade, and he's the closest thing Aunt Saera has to a husband."
"Just because her paramour is powerful doesn't mean she'd make a good queen." Laena said.
"No, but this paramour, from what I hear from those three boys down there, is willing to tolerate other men in her bed, fund her businesses, help raise children that aren't his and pay for her lavish lifestyle." I shot back. "She has him looped around her little finger. A little pet, doing his mistress' bidding.
"The Maegyrs are one of the most wealthy and powerful families among the Old Blood, and Aunt Saera owns their head. Even his wife and trueborn children does her bidding." I shook my head in a sordid mix of admiration and disgust. "And honestly, I see that as a hallmark of her political acumen. Aunt Saera knew exactly whom to seduce and charm, in order to get what she wanted."
For all that Jaehaerys complained that she was a slut—And she was one, no doubt about that— Saera had gotten her hands onto one of the quintessential truths of the world of men: Sleeping your way to power worked. Sure it wasn't morally or ethically correct, and pretty much everyone judged or slut-shamed you for it, but the bitter truth was that it was an effective method. And in its own way, both time-honoured and traditional. Trophy wives existed for a reason.
"And you think this makes her a good queen?" Laenor disapprovingly asked.
I wriggled my palm.
"She'd be better than my father, at the very least." I decided.
Quite frankly, I considered Saera a better candidate than Rhaenys as well, mostly because Rhaenys was a warrior first and foremost. She'd make a good queen in wartime, but not a good one in peacetime. King Maekar came to mind. A great warrior and commander, but hardly a good king. Oh, he managed to avoid bungling up during his reign, but he was a mediocre king. But the good news was that Rhaenys had Corlys to compensate. Her husband had the political acumen and brains to run the Seven Kingdoms, with a delicate touch she lacked.
"A father whom is winning this election heartily." Laena grumbled.
"Just because he's a popular man doesn't mean he'll make a good king." I replied.
And wasn't that just one of the pitfalls of presidential elections? That in the end, it didn't matter if you would have made a good president, if your opponent was more popular and charismatic. Viserys was the objectively poorer king, but the more popular candidate, while Rhaenys would have made a better queen, but she lacked my father's rapport with the masses and popular support.
I sympathised with Rhaenys. Many years ago, back in boarding school, I was in her shoes, watching Ruth handily win the election for prefect even though I was the objectively superior candidate. I'll admit that I was running for selfish reasons, as prefects got their own special dorm with single rooms, and I was desperate to ditch my roommate Alfred. Not only was he a rude slob with music tastes that ran contrary to mine, he was a womanising slob, and had at least twice —that I know of— brought hookers back to our dorm room and fucked them in my bed.
But the point of the matter was that I would do a better job. Everybody knew I'd do a better job, but Ruth was popular and charming and just had that spark which allowed her to galvanise the masses. And so she got elected.
Though at least my luck had held out. The prefect dorms had more rooms than prefects, so the remainder was assigned via lottery. Which I thankfully won. And then Ruth decided to drop out of school over summer holidays, so they needed a replacement prefect. Hence I got the job, but the swap happened late enough that my prefect badge and hoodie had her name stencilled onto it. A permanent reminder that I only got the job as a consolation prize.
"How come you're supporting Mother?" Laenor suspicious asked, snapping me back to reality. "You have the most to gain if your father becomes a king."
"I support Aunt Rhaenys because she would make the better queen." I empathetically said. "My primary concern is the greater good. For both House Targaryen and the Seven Kingdoms in general. Your mother would make the better queen. My father may be popular, and by all accounts, I think he would make a good peacetime king, but he's indecisive and too soft and naive for his own good. Auntie Rhaenys is decisive and firm, with a cunning and politically astute husband."
That, and Laenor was a pushover. When he married me— which he would have to—in order to combine our claims, I'd be able to pull a Canon Rhaenyra and dominate him utterly. I'd hollow him out to use as a puppet, and once he died, rule through our children. That way, even if Aegon and company were born, they'd be inferior to me. I'd be the King's wife. They would be merely lesser cousins, and Westeros' opinion of younger siblings and cousins usurping their elder's due was clear.
I'd avert the Dance before it even begun, while securing the Iron Throne for myself.
Alas, I was unable to cancel the Great Council, forcing me to go with plan B.
"Hey kids!" A voice shouted, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Want to ride my elephant?" Valarr asked, beckoning us down.
"Ooh! Come on! Let's go!" Laena enthused, grabbing her brother and me in her arms and dragging us towards the great grey giant.
I was the first to get on, the elephant wrapping its trunk under my shoulders and hoisting me up smoothly, depositing me onto the palanquin on its back. Laena and Laenor joined me soon enough. My two cousins were starry-eyed and gleeful, riding around on a creature they had never seen before. They laughed and squealed, cheering as the elephant lumbered across the football field-sized courtyard.
I personally was less enthusiastic. Wasn't the first time I'd seen an elephant. The Singapore Zoo had some, and I lived in Southeast Asia, so I'd seen more than one of these massive animals in Malaysia, Thailand and Indonesia. It wasn't even the first time I rode one of these pachyderms. Back when I was a child, my family liked vacationing in Phuket, Thailand. One of the attractions at the resorts we stayed at was young elephants being brought in at lunchtime and children allowed to ride on their backs.
I'd also ridden the full sized adult version before, though that was as a horridly bored preteen, whom spent most of that ride playing Minecraft Pocket Edition on his iPhone.
"That was something!" Laena laughed when we eventually descended, the elephant picking us up with its trunk and gently lowering us to the ground. It was remarkably delicate and precise for something as ponderously huge as it.
"Eh, I prefer a horse." I shrugged. "Cheaper and faster."
"Oh you're no fun Rhae." Laena chided. "Where's your spirit of adventure?"
"Either in Singapore, Japan or Britain." I drily replied. And their names were Alice, Yuuki and Pamela respectively. My clique of BFFs from my boarding school days. I was always the house mouse between the four of us. The least adventurous. The voice of caution. And unless alcohol was involved, those three girls were the ones dragging me to activities and adventures. Yuuki, whom was daring and sporty. Alice, whom was down for anything. And Pamela, whom was the bravest girl in school. I just followed their lead, though I was hardly a mere follower, planning our itineracy and food. Whatever thing they wanted to do, I was the one whom puzzled out the practicalities and made it possible.
"Where?" Laena asked puzzledly.
"Not here." I simply said, walking back indoors. My stomach was grumbling and my thoughts swiftly turned towards dinner.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone