章節 110: 23
Chapter 23
"Unfortunately, I'm a soldier. I was taught in academy that anyone who can't see reality for what it is should be called an idiot." - From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 8
Daemon accepted the Paramountcy of the Stepstones before the court. It was made all the sweeter by the look of distaste on Alicent Hightower's face. Her father, the more dangerous Hightower, did not allow such obvious displeasure to appear on his features. Viserys looked pleased to honor him in this way. Daemon believed Viserys to be a fool in many ways, but he did love him. His good-mother had done well in convincing Viserys of granting Daemon this honor.
Without Daemon the Stepstones would have fallen to the Triarchy. He admitted that Laenor had done more recently, but the man was already going to inherit the wealthiest house in Westeros, and be the Prince Consort to Rhaenyra.
Assuming we win the coming battles.
Unlike Rhaenyra, Daemon knew war was inevitable. The Hightowers and their allies had sunk their claws deep into Viserys and the administration of the realm. The Greens dominated the small council. They dominated the court appointments. They led the new military order of the Waywardens. Alicent churned out children incessantly, even now another half-breed threatened to emerge from her cunt.
The first part of the ceremony was completed with Daemon's renewed oaths to Viserys. Next came the oaths of his vassals. Vaemond Velaryon was the first, but there were others. A cousin to Lord Harwin Strong was given part of one island along with some landed knights from the Crownlands. Daemon had also knighted one of his old commanders from the Gold Cloaks, an act that would inspire future loyalty from those that remained Gold Cloaks. Finally he had conceded to give control of one of the watch towers to a Ser Dalton Rivers, one of the Knights of Victory. His beloved wife thought it a grand gesture.
He had questioned the man, revealing that he was not so much loyal to anyone, other than coin. He was a skilled fighter and had a sellsword spirit, Daemon could use a man like that, and it would appease his wife. Daemon knew he had treated his wife unjustly; the birthing bed was always a game of chance. Of course, he would not tolerate a bastard surname, even for a knightly house, so Daemon granted Ser Dalton 'Dracstone' as a surname for his house.
He accepted polite congratulations from the various nobles who were present. Elaena then approached. She wore quite the fetching gray dress. Red dragons were embodied upon her sleeves. She looked every inch the Targaryen Princess.
"Prince Daemon, uncle, congratulations on your ascendency to one of the Paramount Lords of Westeros."
"In a way I have you to thank for it." Daemon said with a slight smile curling on the side of his mouth.
The way Elaena froze in shock for a fraction of a second confirmed his suspicions. Her recovery was near complete, but her blue eyes had gone from soft to those he would liken to a hawk's.
"Whatever do you mean by that, uncle?"
"Admit it, if you were here instead of on your tour to find a mate, you would have whispered in my brother's ear against my ascension."
Elaena smiled broadly, as if she was genuinely happy. Daemon sensed no mockery in it, which confused him somewhat.
"I would have advised the King to have handled things differently, yes. But finding you lands to manage is an appropriate endeavor. You are a prince of the realm, the brother of a King, and the rider of the fearsome Caraxes. My good-brother speaks highly of your efforts when you fought beside him in the Stepstones, and none doubt your abilities as a warrior."
Daemon took pleasure in hearing those words, even if they were likely there just to further hide her devious nature, and true intentions.
"You have a gift for flattery, and the skill to deflect directly asked questions. Elaena, I am not your sister. Honeyed words will not distract me from the certainty that you would have advised Viserys against making me the Paramount Lord of the Stepstones."
Elaena looked him in the eye. He had to give credit to her for that, as many grown men and powerful lords would tremble under his gaze. He was always caught between admiration and irritation when it came to his niece. She was capable, intelligent, and carried herself well. But she was also disloyal, and refused to treat him with due deference.
"Daemon, you may believe what you wish. In either case, my congratulations to you are heartfelt, and my fondest wish is that your stewardship of the Stepstones is peaceful and prosperous."
Elaena moved on and Daemon accepted other congratulations. When all that was complete and the feasting was done, he lay with his wife again. The complication of Maegor had cast a long shadow, but ultimately his brother had shown that a ruler could make an heir as he willed. At the time, being passed over for Rhaenyra had enraged him, but now he saw the appeal. Once he had a son, an inheritor who would be worthy, he could simply appoint that child as his heir over Maegor.
For a time he had considered just having the deformed monster killed, but after recalling Viserys and his change of heirs, he realized murdering Laena's child was not something he would have to do. Daemon cared not one whit for that thing that had spawned from his loins, but Laena had proven her loyalty and did not deserve sorrow.
***
Viserys was pleased to see that his wife and newborn son were both in excellent health. Grand Maester Mellos had warned that the babe had been a bit early, and to be steeled against the worst outcome. The man loved his ravens too much, the old phrase 'dark wings, dark words' may as well have been personified in the old Maester.
Mellos wasn't incorrect in the babe being early, but other than some mild breathing issues and smaller size, he was healthy. The name they had decided on was that of his sire, Baelon Targaryen. Viserys felt quite accomplished; this was his ninth child. It was four shy of Jaehaerys, but it was far more than most. He was well content with reaching that number, and would abide by the agreement he had made with Alicent. She would bear no more children. Given the exhausted look of his wife, 'twas probably for the best.
Elaena had come up to see him after being with little Baelon.
"Congratulations again, father."
"Thank you, my dear. Now that the babe has come early, will you be adjusting your schedule?"
"No, I will keep the same schedule. I do plan on visiting my sister on Dragonstone, and then see how Maegor and the twins are doing on Driftmark. Then I'll return here for a day or two before heading off to Tumbleton."
"A fine plan."
With that resolved, they shared a smile before Elaena titled her head and adopted a rare look of amusement and pleased consideration.
"Father. I have something of a project for you, given your love for Old Valyria."
"Oh?" Viserys asked with interest.
"Cyvasse is a game that I've come to enjoy. The pieces represent different elements of an army. It includes elephants, men-at-arms, cavalry, siege weaponry, and the most powerful piece – the dragon. I propose that you create custom pieces as if the host had come from Old Valyria. Painted in the colors of our house."
Viserys was surprised, and gladdened by Elaena's request. She was always so studious and focused on grand plans to better the realm. It was a pleasant alternative to have something suggested that was just for the joy of it.
"I think that is a fine idea. But surely you could have spoken to craftsman about it, why bring this to me? Not that I don't want to work with you on this; I am just curious."
"No one knows Old Valyria better than you, and your diorama has remained relatively unchanged for over a year. I thought it would be something you would both enjoy doing, and be the premier wisdom for such a thing."
Viserys chuckled. As always, his daughter had thought things through.
"I shall ensure it will be completed in time for your wedding."
"Thank you, father. Though perhaps it will be done before then, as I have not yet finished my tour. Afterwards I will not be overly hasty in making my choice, and then a hasty betrothal to wedding is not ideal for me either."
Viserys gave Elaena a look. "When exactly are you scheming to be wed?"
"I will be making my selection before I am six-and-ten, but I would think at least a year-long betrothal would be appropriate."
"Are you nervous about the bedding and the possibility of childbirth? I know these things can be difficult, especially with what happened to your mother. But they are part of the expectations of being a princess."
"Many have wed past their twentieth name-day, father. But I will do as I must."
Viserys nodded, a year, year and a half at most, was not so bad.
"It seems your younger sister will be wed before you after all."
"What?" Elaena asked. Her gaze sharpened and despite their relationship, Viserys blinked and looked away.
"Once Helaena has flowered, which should not be long, then she will be wed to Aegon."
"Father, she just turned two-and-ten recently. That is far too soon. It is not healthy for a girl to risk the birthing bed that early. Why this haste?"
Viserys sighed, he had already promised Alicent to have a quick wedding for their children, to honor the ways of House Targaryen. He thought that perhaps his wife was eager for grandchildren.
"Elaena, that choice is not up to you. The Grand Maester has told me that many women give birth at a young age."
"To greater hardship! There is no sense in such a risk."
Viserys disliked disappointing his daughter, but he had promised Alicent.
"Elaena, the decision has already been made. Once her moon's blood is upon her your brother and sister will be wed."
His daughter looked displeased.
"Perhaps we should not have two separate royal weddings. Why not combine the two? Allow Helaena and Aegon's wedding to be postponed until I have wed. It will allow for an even greater event. All the lords and ladies of Westeros shall be invited, and we can have a grand tourney."
Viserys immediately loved the idea. He would have to talk to Alicent, but this was a good excuse. Alicent could be moved by such a spectacle. And it would smooth over concerns of Rhaenyra not attending Aegon's wedding. Now she would be there anyway.
Yes, this way everyone will be happy.
***
Ser Jon Roxton was impressed with the feast that Lord Footly had put on. The Lord of Tumbleton did not have any kin of suitable age to marry Princess Elaena, but had still been chosen to host her for the coming week.
The princess looked radiant. Jon knew his chances were dim. His house was middling in status and wealth. He would still make the attempt; the prize was too grand.
If one does not make an attempt, one cannot ever succeed.
At seven-and-ten he was close to the girl's age. He recalled that his father said that she was five-and-ten, but she held court with Lord Footly at the head table in practiced fashion that belied her youth. Lord Footly himself seemed quite intrigued and engaged with discussions, the other lords around also wearing interested looks. Jon glanced at the other suitors, some knightly houses had chosen to send their sons, they had even less of a chance. The only one of any real standing also in pursuit was Lord Jon Cockshaw.
The knight knew he needed to be memorable. He stood up as a thought briefly formed in his head, and he instinctively went with it.
"A TOAST! TO PRINCESS ELAENA!"
It was sudden, but several took it up, and while they did Ser Jon formed the words he would speak next.
"Princess Elaena, you are travelling across Westeros in search for a husband. A man worthy of your hand. This is but one of many stops on your trip. I've heard you've been to the North, the Westerlands, and the Vale! I have a request. Let us make this a memorable stop for you – and let us not waste your time. Give us a true chance to win your hand, to select one suitor to spend the week with. We can decide who through feat of arms. Let us have a melee, here in this hall or in the morn. The winner can then obtain a true section of time to know you and heighten the chance you select one of us."
The hall was shocked, and then came some harsh words and angry mutters in his direction. But not all, some saw his words as true. What chance did they have when the competition included names like Arryn and Manderly?
The princess caught his eye. Her interest had been roused.
"A unique request, Ser Roxton. In my search I seek more than just someone skilled at arms, and yet I cannot help but be intrigued by such a bold challenge. I will not retreat upon my word, but what I will do is this. There are eight suitors in this hall, and I was prepared to spend at least half a day with each of you. All those who wish not to participate will still have their half a day, but all those with the courage to participate in this melee will have their time given to the winner."
In the end, all the potential suitors could not resist the temptation to spend nearly a full week with the princess. Ser Jon had his work cut out for him in the melee. Several knights sought to take him on at once, but despite the use of a blunted weapon instead of his house's blade, he proved the victor. He took particular delight in bashing in Lord Cockshaw's teeth in with the pommel of his tourney sword.
For their first personalized interaction, Jon chose to have them go riding. The princess had no objections, and Jon wondered at that. They were outside of Tumbleton without any guards. He supposed that he should be honored by the trust, but it was rather odd. What if someone claimed the princess had lost her virtue on the excursion with him? Or what if there had been an unlikely attack by brigands?
Has she fucked other suitors? She is Rhaenyra's sister.
She made no move or hint toward such closeness, and he thought it best not to make the attempt. Rumor had it that some knight in the Westerlands had been exiled to Essos due to over forwardness. He had brought food and wine and they shared it under the shade of a pear tree.
"Ser Jon, you were quite skilled in the melee. I was also fond of your aggressive strategy to differentiate yourself from the others. Now I have some questions for you."
"Of course, Princess Elaena. Ask what you will."
She asked him many questions, and he soon found himself on uncertain ground. Questions regarding his house's finances were difficult to answer. His father was still hale, and had not included him in the decision-making regarding financial matters. Jon's knowledge of trade was also more general than specific. When it came to children Jon answered bluntly.
"Number of children? As many as the Gods see fit to grant us. Why, is there a fear you are barren?"
"No, but my own mother was lost in the birthing bed, and to be direct, I do not wish to risk such a fate. I would not be interested in facing that battle repeatedly."
"But that is your duty!"
Jon cursed his quick tongue as he saw something pass through her eyes. She then changed the subject to the blade he had at his side.
"That is Valyrian steel at your side, is it not?" Elaena asked.
"Yes, my father gave it to me when I was raised to knighthood."
With a flourish Jon pulled the blade from its sheath. The black blade's inky darkness swirled in the afternoon light.
"It is called Orphan-Maker."
"An appropriate name for such a deadly blade." Elaena complimented. "May I hold it?"
Caught off guard, he nodded. "But be careful, Your Grace, 'tis sharper than a normal blade."
She gave him a look, and he felt rather foolish. This was Elaena Targaryen, she would know about Valyrian steel. Both her father and her uncle wielded their own blades. Blackfyre and Dark Sister.
He handed the blade to her, and she held it properly. She cut the air with it a couple of times in a display of surprising strength and finesse, and then handed it hilt first back to him.
"Thank you, ser. My curiosity has been satisfied."
He took her back to Tumbleton and spent the next several days in her company. She was polite, graceful, and a willing conversational partner. And yet, he felt no closeness between the two of them. When he finally asked about her thoughts toward him and his chances, she favored him with a smile, but bore ill news.
"Ser Jon, you are not the husband that I seek. You are a fine knight, but my own tastes are not as martial and fiery as yours. Nonetheless I will look back fondly on our time together, if nothing else, know that you were remarkable."
It hadn't worked out, but winning the impromptu melee will have enhanced his reputation. He was disappointed, but had known from the start the difficulty of winning her hand. He would wait with curiosity to find out just what kind of suitor the princess had in mind.
***
Ser Alan Beesbury was nervous. His grandfather had high expectations for him, and his many, many letters about the courtship of Princess Elaena had only served to grow his angst over it all. He was a knight, he had fought in tournaments, watched men die for crimes, and yet this meeting with the royal princess was causing him great concern.
The princess has a mind beyond her years.
She is brilliant; her thoughts are well ordered.
Her ideas are bountiful, more than any other in the realm, save for Ser Laenor's grand victory and King Viserys for listening, she is the one responsible for our prosperity.
Make sure you are confident, do not show hesitancy, nor arrogance.
Mind your courtesies, for she always does.
Do not be overly rigid.
Princess Elaena is sensitive on the subject of bearing children. She will not wish for a large family.
Understand fully how we manage trade in our lands.
Family is what matters most to her. Do not speak ill of any of her kin, Greens, or Blacks.
Ask for her opinion and display curiosity for her thoughts.
Praise her dragon. Her one diversion from bettering the realm, is dragon riding.
On and on and on and on the advice came. When it came time to finally meet with her, he found himself thick of tongue.
"Greetings, ah, El, err, Princess Elaena. I am pleased to, um, finally meet you, Your, Your, Grace."
Alan's cheeks had reddened. What an absolute fool he was making of himself. The princess had just landed, and he was there with two guards and a pair of servants ready to take any belongings the princess had brought with her.
"Thank you, Ser Alan. I am pleased to accept your hospitality. Your grandsire has told me much of you!"
"Ah, hah, well Lord Lyman may have some biases there. But 'tis not a bad thing, after all, what matters more than family?"
He was proud of himself for that line; it was one he had prepared.
Elaena gave him a smile and a nod. They walked toward the keep of Honeyholt. It was not a grand structure like Highgarden or Winterfell, but it was well defendable. Surrounding it past the walls, a town had grown up around it. The keep overlooked the Honeywine river.
Speaking with the princess was nerve-wracking at first, but she did not make conversation difficult. He found himself speaking strongly of what he did know. His house was known for its honey, that much was known by all, but the actual process was fascinating and soon he found himself explaining about the importance of bees. He stopped himself, when he realized he was going on too long on that one topic, and switched over to asking questions about the Dragon Bank and working with grandfather.
Soon enough they were sitting down and enjoying a meal together. Unlike at other stops, it had been arranged that he would be the only suitor for the time she would be in Honeyholt. Selection of the food was weighed toward the sweeter side, and Alan could tell that Elaena was enjoying herself.
"Ser Alan, indulge me if you will. If money were no object, how would you improve upon Honeyholt?"
Alan blinked a few times. This was not something he prepared for! A good lord made sure enough income was collected to pay his taxes, be able to hold lavish feasts for special occasions, and have enough funds to arm and armor any levies needed for war. In addition a lord could have idle pursuits such as horse or dog breeding. Gold for favors and trinkets for noble ladies was also necessary.
Alan did not think something so basic would appeal to the princess. Not many knew that Elaena was the true will behind the formation of the Dragon Bank. Alan only knew because his grandfather had told him.
"I could think of several projects. Creating a large arching bridge over the Honeywine would mean we could trade east and west more easily, than just north and south over the river. I would also look to create an unofficial secondary Citadel. It costs money to study and earn your links as a Maester, but why turn away hidden talents? A common born man with a gift for arms can earn knighthood through arms, but there is little way for those with an extra blessing of wit prove and advance themselves. Some say being a Maester is like being a knight of the mind – we could harness it."
Elaena leaned forward. "A secondary Citadel, how fascinating. What subjects would it specialize in?"
Alan looked away, furiously thinking. He took in a breath. "In truth, I know not. The idea only came to me because of you, princess. Few would think a child's idea worth pursuing, and yet my grandfather and the King listened to your banking proposal, much to the realm's benefit."
Elaena smiled at him. "You make a compelling case. I imagine the Maesters would not be happy, and the location of it so close to Oldtown would be a concern. But I do like the idea."
Alan laughed nervously. "Well, you asked what I would do if coin were no issue, but coin is an issue. Any effort to create an institute of learning would have to start small due to the costs."
Talk moved on to other subjects, and Alan felt he answered those well. The subject of children came up, and Alan proactively indicated he thought two children for two parents was an ideal number.
"Oh, and not three? Childhood is not without its dangers." Elaena challenged.
Alan was flummoxed for a moment. He had been told she only wanted two!
"I… well, I could not think of my children facing mortal peril, my mind shies from the thought itself."
Elaena quirked an eyebrow. "I commend you on the recovery." She sighed. "It is obvious you have been given assistance prior to our meeting. I don't begrudge that, but I do want your honest feelings. I do not want to marry someone who used deceit, and then later is unhappy with the arrangement. If I gave birth to two girls, would you be accepting of no male heir?"
"I would." Alan answered confidently. He wanted Elaena for his house. It wasn't as if the line of Beesbury would end, if he had no sons. He had an uncle, and four male cousins. Alan would like to have a son of course, and the odds were in his favor that would happen with two children, but if he was not so blessed, he could still be content.
"Good, I believe you. You've passed the first round, ser. You stand with four others who I am seriously considering as a prospective marriage partner. I intend to visit the Citadel for a couple of days, and then return here. Draw up some plans for the bridge, and estimated costs and anticipated economic improvement for doing so. That will allow me to see where your thoughts and priorities are."
Alan was both happy, and somewhat alarmed. The bridge idea wasn't something he had thought about fully before blurting it out. The princess being gone for a couple of days was a surprise, and a deviation of the schedule, but since he had already passed the first 'round' of Elaena's assessment he would consider it a victory.
***
Jacaerys, or Jace, as everyone called him, was quite pleased with being the heir of Dragonstone, and one day heir of King's Landing. He was in no hurry to inherit; being a lord, or a King, was quite serious. It made for little time to play. Jace had the greatest dragonrider since Aegon the Conqueror as a father. Laenor Velaryon, the 'Dark Storm.'
He was learning how to be a squire and would soon be formally given the rank of a squire, one assigned to the commander of his mother's guards. Ser Harwin 'Breakbones' Strong. He was more than just a simple guard captain; he was also the Lord of Harrenhal. It made sense to Jace that someone as important as his mother would have an important lord as the one leading her guards. He liked Ser Harwin quite a bit. The man was always teaching him something, and he always ate meals with the family.
That was when Jace started to grow suspicious. He had caught Harwin and Rhaenyra do something he had only seen courting folk do. A soft kiss, or a morsel of food fed to the other. He didn't think he was supposed to see, because they would often quickly change their behavior when they spotted him. It was weird.
It was also weird that the master-at-arms and his sire spent more time together than his father and mother! Jace was troubled, and sought answers from his father. As always, he made time for Jace.
"You have a serious look upon your face. What is the matter?"
Jace fidgeted. Now that he was here, he didn't know how to broach the subject.
"You and mother, you seem further apart than Ser Harwin and mother."
His father's face went still. "He is her sworn shield, and she is the heir to the Iron Throne. Having her greatest protector with her at all times is important."
Jace nodded; that made sense. Only it didn't. He knew there was more.
"Father, is that truly all? They are closer than friends… I don't wish to accuse mother of anything… but…"
"And you wonder at how you, Luke, and Aenar look like Ser Harwin and not like me. I've long understood this moment was coming."
Jace blinked. He hadn't really thought about that aspect, but now that it was mentioned, he understood with dawning horror.
"I'm a bastard!" Jace exclaimed.
"Jace, lower your voice, and never repeat that again." Laenor spoke firmly, but not harshly.
"I have much to explain, but I need your oath first not to repeat this. In time, we will tell your brother as well, but not yet."
Jace hesitantly swore that he would remain silent. He needed to know.
"My grandsire was your grandsire's uncle. We are blood, you, and I, just not in the way you thought we were. I love Rhaenyra, but not in the way most husbands love their wives. Some enjoy the taste of fish, other the taste of mutton, and some the taste of turnips."
"No one likes turnips!"
"It is rare, but some do. Just like individuals such as I, prefer the company of men over women. Rhaenyra understands this, and she has her own tastes as well. You are the natural son of Ser Harwin, but in the eyes of the realm, you are my son."
It was much for Jace to take in. "But… I like you as my father."
"And my son you shall remain! I will never sire an heir from my seed, and I am content with this. As I said earlier, you and me, we both have the same blood. You are destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms, and I could not love you anymore than I do now, if you grew from my seed."
Jace felt tears come to his eyes. He hugged his father tightly.
"I think I understand. I… I won't say anything. I will keep my word."
"Good, I knew you would. As you grow older, you will encounter those who wish to demean and discredit you over your birth. Do not ever acknowledge the charge as accurate. It will cause only harm and even war."
"What of my brother, Aelyx? You mentioned Luke and Aenar, what of him?"
Laenor sighed. "Not mine, and not mine to tell. You can speak to your mother about this if you wish. I will forewarn her that I have told you, and why."
Jace nodded. He was old enough to have heard practice yard banter from those older than him. He knew how babies were made, and he knew how men viewed women who broke their marriage oaths. And yet, he found that he could not care overmuch. Rhaenyra was his mother. If Laenor… his father, had not permitted it, it wouldn't have happened, and he wouldn't have been born! Jace rather liked being alive and playing with his brothers and Vermax.
"I may do that, later." Jace replied. "Is that why I am being squired to Ser Harwin? Does he wish me close by his side?"
"In part, yes. Ser Harwin is also a distinguished knight, and a skilled warrior. He has the reputation for being one of the strongest knights of the realm. Many will envy you for being his squire."
Jace nodded. His feelings were still all a jumble inside him. But his family cared for him, and Laenor was still his father, no matter what.
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