Welcome back, all those curious about some of the events after A Game of Vengeance and Justice. If you haven't read that to the end, you will be spoiled and may not understand some of the things spoken about in the story. So unless you don't care about this, head of and check the main works out before continuing.
So, I'll give a brief rundown of how this works. Each story will be relatively short, around five chapters, at least, that's the plan. There is no one POV for them all, each one will be told from the point of view of a different person, unless I come up with any more ideas where I re-use one. Currently I have planned out four short stories to tell. If you guys have anything you want to find out about Jasper's reign, please tell me, I'll see what I can do. As much as possible, I want to keep things going in chronological order, but if there's demand, I don't mind going back and retelling something that's already happened. Just bear in mind these stories will tell of events, they will cover days, weeks, maybe a month, but no more than that, so just keep that in mind if you have any requests, I can't tell you the story of something that's spread over the course of years, except by referencing it in these stories.
At the beginning of each story I will give the date in AVJ (After Vengeance and Justice) just so you know how much time has passed between these ones, the main story, and each other.
Okay, before my waffling on gets too of topic, here is story one:
The Union of Peace - 13 AVJ
The seamstresses seemed determined more than anything to get the dress perfect. Laena couldn't blame them, for tomorrow she would be ending the bad blood between House Targaryen and Baratheon as she, the only legitimate child of Aegon Targaryen, wedded Crown Prince Durran Baratheon, the heir of the Kingdom of Westeros.
The folds of silk, satin and Myrish lace draped off her slender form like water, weightless in the air. "Beautiful, my lady," the seamstresses said, stepping back and looking her up and down. She looked at her reflection and smiled. Without even the extensive jewellery and make up, even without the dress being finalised, even her own breath hitched at the sight of her. The colours of her house were plain, black and red complementing each other in perfect harmony from fold to fold, and stood at strong contrast to her skin, pale as the moon, with her arms covered only by a translucent shimmering silk, tinted in Targaryen colours, but leaving her upper limbs quite visible to the eye.
"Definitely," she turned her head as the Queen entered. The Seamstresses lowered their heads in respect to the Stark Queen. The Queen's own dress, black, gold and grey, a medley of her two houses, her silver tiara resting in her curls like a nesting bird. "My son will consider himself most fortunate to have such a wife".
Laena blushed. It was strange to think that she would finally be marrying Durran. All their lives they had been told that one day they would wed, that she would marry Durran, bear his children and, once King Jasper had passed on, she would be the queen. They had grown up like siblings, more than lovers, in the same castle, eating at the same table and protected by the same men. Yet despite all of this, the announcement had come as a shock. Six months previously, the King had announced that the wedding would take place, on the one year anniversary of the capture of Pentos and Durran's first taste of real battle. He had served as his father's squire in that attack on the east, and Laena had, as was expected, granted him a favour to wear in the battle. She had been surprised when he had come back with it intact. "Thank you, Queen Arya," she replied, bowing her head to her soon to be good mother.
Arya waved the title away, walking around her slowly, appreciating the beauty of her son's intended. "Is the jewellery picked out?" She asked.
Laena nodded. "Yes," she said, indicating to the desk where her vast array of rubies and gems and other precious stones were lain out, ready to be put on her.
"We just have a few final adjustments to make to the dress, Your Grace," one of the Seamstresses said.
The Queen nodded. "See to it then," she said. "Laena, when you are done here, I must speak with you, come to my chambers, please."
She bowed as the Queen exited the room. As the seamstresses dived back in, she wondered how stiff her joints would be when they were done.
It took some time for that to happen , the seamstresses intent on getting the dress exactly right for the wedding. The King was planning this to be a great event, meant to help mend the horrors of the war in which she'd been borne and King Jasper, with his marred face, could be quite the intimidating one if he wanted to be.
But eventually, she was, and, dressed in one of her normal dresses with no intricacy to it, and far looser on her body, she went to the Queen's solar.
Outside the door was one of the white plated Kingsguard, Ser Rolland, a greying warrior and veteran of the war, and still dangerous in battle. He opened the door for her when she approached, and she stepped through.
The Queen was not alone in her solar, also present were her husband, King Jasper, dressed in regal, yet functional clothes, and their daughter, Catelyn. They all looked at her when she entered. "Laena!" The young girl squealed, her black hair tied back as she rushed over and hugged her tightly.
Laena smiled and placed her hand gently on Cat's head, rubbing it softly. They had always been close, as the King and Queen's first daughter, she had helped them understand girls, and, with three older brothers, Cat had often come to her before them. "Hello, Cat," she replied. The girl looked up at her with wide blue eyes. She glanced at King Jasper's stern face. Whenever he pulled that face, that of the authoritative father, she knew he was in the middle of scolding them. It wouldn't do for her to interrupt that, he was Cat's father, and both of their King. "Cat," she said, gently prising the girl from around her. "I think your father wants to speak to you."
"Thank you, Laena," the King replied courteously. "Now, Cat," he beckoned her over and looked down at her imperiously when she shuffled over. "What did I say?"
"You don't want me behaving well during the festivities," she falsely mimicked.
"No," Jasper said. He knelt down before her so he was on her level. "Don't play the cheek with me, Cat, I said you will behave well, or there will be trouble. Don't make me lock you in your chambers for your brother's wedding and tourney."
The young princess glanced at her mother, but the Queen also fixed her sternly. There were those who said that the Queen herself had been quite the wilful one in her youth, and to be sure, when the castle operated normally, the monarchs allowed a certain amount of freedom for Cat and her brothers. But now, with what seemed to be half the realm descending on the capital for the festivities, they were tightening the leashes on their children.
"I'll behave, father," Cat said finally. Jasper leant in and kissed her forehead, stroking her black hair.
"Good girl," he said. "Now run along, and no mischief."
She curtsied like the good princess she was ordered to be, and left the room. The king got to his feet again and poured out a cup of wine, holding it out to her. "Here," he said.
Tentatively, she took the cup and sipped at the deep red liquid. "Please," Arya said, indicating a chair. "Sit."
She did so, the two monarchs looking at her not unkindly. "I've said it many times," he said, pulling in a chair opposite her. "But these next few days are of great importance to me... to all of us. Finally the blood conflict of the past will be set aside... if things go to plan. If they fail, if there is any hiccup, then the cycle of blood between our houses could begin again. If you have any qualms about your upcoming marriage to my son, get them off your chest now, tomorrow must go smoothly."
"There are no qualms, my king," she said, staring him in the mismatched eyes, remembering how once they had haunted her, but now the red and blue were like two gems, a ruby and sapphire, in the king's face. "I have known my place for as long as I can remember. I will marry your son and do my duty by him, I swear it."
He stared into her eyes, judging his words, and nodded. "Very good," he said. "Then there are only a few more matters to discuss. You are aware that a... great many lords... will be attending these festivities?"
She nodded. She knew that well enough. Her father had told her that the King had invited every lord of note to the wedding and festivities. He wanted them all to see the union of Baratheon and Targaryen and be clear that the war was done, there was nothing left fighting for. He had also arranged a tourney afterwards, a grand event, larger than anything since the fateful tourney of Harrenhal, where Rhaegar Targaryen had planted the seeds for the end of his dynasty by crowning Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty. There would be a grand joust spread out over the course of a week to determine a champion, one in which he husband would be competing, despite his relative youth. A melee would be held as well, hundreds of knights competing to claim as many ransoms as they could, lords leading retinues in a glorious display of warfare, one force of warriors to represent each region of Westeros in a multi sided battle for money, glory and renown. Archery would have it's place as well, with targets being floated out on boats along the Rush for the archers to aim for. The there would be the less martial aspects, a tourney of singers, horse races, a grand mummer's show. Prizes were grand and glorious and aplenty. Looking out beyond the city, one could see a veritable silken town as lords and knights were in pavilions, and many of the tavern owners would be exceptionally rich, charging huge prices for their rooms. The King had issued a number of decrees fixing price for basic goods as well, so the commoners could still afford to eat. The grand lists had a grand stand around them, capable of seating thousands, but still leaving one side available for the commoners to observe the knightly pageantry, as well as smaller lists open to them completely, so that those knight vanquished in the first days could still compete if they wished to claim more ransoms. The only time she had seen more acclaim was when the king had returned from Pentos, his ships laden down with wealth, he and his son at the head of the victory parade, coming through the city. There were still some alive who remembered the tourney of Harrenhal, some thirty five years ago now, and the King was determined to outdo that famous tournament in splendour.
"Well," Jasper said. "Lord Edric Dayne will be arriving later today, and with him, your mother's family."
She knew that statement should have rung with her, but in truth it was exceptional only in it's irrelevance. She could barely remember her mother's face, having seen her only a few times, and only briefly. She was well aware she had been taken from them to prevent future rebellion by the Martells, and now that her mother's house had been reduced to mere Landed Knights, unable to even carry out justice on their lands without the permission of House Dayne, who's keep was at the far end of the Dornish peninsula, the ability for them to come to King's Landing was greatly hindered. It should have pained her, but her mother was more queer, more alien to her than her supposed captors. "I see," she said.
"I leave it to you and your father whether you meet with them or not, but I felt like you needed to be told. You deserved that". She was about to thank him but he held up a hand. "If you meet with the Martells," he added, "one of my White Swords shall go with you, I will not risk anything disturbing this day."
She nodded. "I understand, my king," she said.
He nodded and turned away from her. "That will be all, Laena, thank you," Queen Arya said, far more gently. She understood though. These days had taken a lot of effort and money for the King to prepare, it was completely reasonable that they be invested in them going off without a hitch.
She left the royals to themselves and wondered what she would do for the rest of the day. Her father was busy, she knew that much, preparing for tomorrow, and her two half siblings were also occupied. Being the bastards they were, they would be hidden tomorrow for most of the festivities, but she hoped to see them before she joined her new house. If not, then afterwards. So she decided she would head for the courtyard.
Her intended seemed more intent on training for his tourney than he was on their marriage. He was riding his large brown destrier at a quintain when she found herself overlooking the courtyard. Directing him was Ser Balon Swann, the finest jouster in the Kingsguard. "Don't lower your lance so early," the knight chided his charge. Durran pulled up, his greathelm with iron antlers standing as a contrast to his golden surcoat, his black tinted armour made him look like a warrior of iron, an intimidating sight. Off to another side she saw his eldest brother, Arlan, born the year after the war, sparring in padded clothes and with wooden swords with Ormund Baratheon, the heir to Storm's End and the Hand of the King Stannis Baratheon. They had been at it for so long that both were red and puffy, and their attacks were simple, basic and crude. She cast her eyes around for the third of the King's children and saw him off to one side. Durran was sixteen and Arlan fourteen, but the process of trying to hold the realm together had kept the royals occupied, for Robert was only seven, a year older than Cat. At such a young age, Robert was only beginning his jousting training, walking at the quintain on foot to practice his aim.
She approached the young one. "Hello Robert," she said, smiling at him. "How are you doing?"
"Bad," Robert huffed dropping his lance in effort and annoyance.
She leant down and pinched his little cheeks, just to annoy him further. "Well then," she said. "Shall we watch your brothers?" His face lit up and he nodded, holding out his hand. Laena took it and led him up to oversee the entire courtyard, sitting him on the barrier, but holding him tightly so he didn't fall. Durran made several more passes at the quintain and Arlan and Ormund kept up their sparring, interrupted by the Master at Arms as he corrected them. "Durran rides well," she commented. She knew riding well was the most important part of jousting, almost more than lance work.
Robert nodded enthusiastically. "He's going to win the tourney," he said, firmly.
"I think he will too," she whispered in Robert's ear. She didn't. There would be hundreds if not thousands of knights at the tourney, one of them would surely unhorse her husband. But as long as he made a good showing of himself, he would be satisfied. Some would inevitably aim to lose when they were drawn up against the Crown Prince, but enough would be willing to take the risk and try to unseat him.
"That's enough, my prince," Ser Balon said, and Durran pulled his horse's reigns to halt it. "Too much practice and you'll wear yourself out, let it rest for now, you have prepared as much as you can".
Durran nodded, handed off his lance his squire and dismounted. When he pulled off his helm she saw the face of her soon-to-be husband. He lacked the softness that was still present on Arlan's features, battle in Pentos and training had chiselled his face into a hard image, light stubble decorating his jaw, his eyes blue and fierce. His hair grew out only a little, but enough for it to flutter in the breeze, the silver streak at the front a pleasant contrast to the midnight black on the rest of his head, and she knew that underneath his armour, his body was chiselled and lean, with a flat stomach as though carved from wood. And yet she struggled to find herself attracted to one she had known since childhood. Perhaps during the wedding... with the wine and happiness...
Durran caught sight of the two of them then, raising a hand to wave at them. He didn't seem concerned about the wedding in the slightest. She smiled and waved back with Robert, taking a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. Tomorrow would be a good day, she vowed. Of course it would. She would make it so.