Chapter 8 – The Hunt, Part 1
'The most crucial moment of a hunt, is not the spotting of the wildlife or the killing of your target. It is the choosing of your weapons.' He had heard ser Darrick speak these same words many times before. 'The length or weight of a blade can make the difference between a success and a defeat. So take your time, Lyonel. Touch some of the weapons and feel their grip.'
Lyonel looked around. The Tyrell armory had enough weaponry to arm the entire Reach, he thought. As the eldest son, and as a newlywed man, his was the privilege to choose his weapons first. He preferred fighting with swords, and had trained at it for the better part of his childhood. He had hardly paid any attention to other weapons, and why would he have? He had gotten all the pleasure he had been looking for from the sword fights he had held with Roto Baratheon and Gawayne Hightower, or the ones he held in the streets and taverns of Highgarden with whoever challenged him. About bows and spears, he knew nothing.
Led by curiosity he looked around at the pieces of weaponry displayed on the walls. Darrick continued. 'I think we can rule out bows. Archery is not your strong point. A hunting spear would be a better choice for you.' Lyonel nodded, though he had his back to his uncle. He reached out to one spear he found especially attractive. Ser Darrick sniggered. 'The one of Ironwood? That one could pierce right through a bear if it's ably wielded. I've seen such things myself at Bear Island. But in these woods you'll never find a bear, only does, foxes and boars. This spear would be unnecessarily heavy. Try one of the lighter ones.' Lyonel continued his search, he picked some out at random, tried swinging them, and ultimately hung them back where he found them.
'There's someone here to see you,' ser Darrick said to him at one point.
He looked around and saw his sister Saylistra, such a small creature, standing in the doorstep. 'No, please, Lyo, go on. I didn't … didn't want to … I just wanted to see you.'
'You see me every day,' Lyonel said, 'Or is there something urgent?' He hoped he didn't sound too surly. The truth was, he didn't like the armory and wanted to be done as soon as possible. His lack of knowledge in the field of weapons shamed him now, especially since Darrick had always talked so much of it. But in his callow youth he hadn't paid any attention to his uncle's commentations, fancying that he already knew everything about how to fight. He felt ser Darrick's eyes in his back. With every moment that Lyonel would clumsily hesitate, Darrick's disappointment would grow. His uncle would not show it of course: he would remain as amiable as ever, and would give him the advice he needed. But Lyonel didn't dare ask him.
Saylistra did not take offense. When had she ever, Lyonel thought. 'Of course I see you often, but you're always busy. Talking to this lord, drinking with that lord … I never have time to speak with you in person. I … miss you, as silly as that may sound.' She blushed.
'Tomorrow the last ones will have left, Sae. But still, I've got a new lady now I need to entertain.'
'Elaena.' Saylistra took specific care pronouncing the name, as if she tried to speak a Valyrian word she had just learnt. That same name that could often make Lyonel nervous, seemed to have the opposite effect on his sister. A broad smile adorned her sweet face. 'How is she? Does she like Highgarden? It's not as large as King's Landing, not by far, and she doesn't have any family here. And the gardens, does she like the gardens? I haven't seen her there. Maybe it's the bees. If she doesn't like bees, she wouldn't like the gardens either. I like bees, but they sting and they buzz, and if she would think that's irritating ...'
The absurdity of her concern made Lyonel laugh. 'I'm sure the bees won't discomfort her, Sae.' Though there were plenty of other things that did, he could have added. Even if he was trying to be kind and compassionate, she looked unhappy. A smile was ever far off. He could never sway her to come with him, to the gardens or the great hall. She stayed in her room, in the company of her handmaidens and her Kingsguard, using some kind of excuse like a cold or fatigue. I am working hard for her, he thought, why can't she do the same? That stung him deeper than any bee ever could.
'She certainly is beautiful,' Saylistra said with a dreamy look clouding her pretty green eyes. 'Even more beautiful than Alyssa. Remember? She …'
Both Lyo and his uncle gave her an intense and worried look. Saylistra immediately stopped talking. The name of Alyssa Baratheon was no longer mentioned in Highgarden since the attack on prince Gaemon. The memory of her face close to his stabbed him through the heart as a dagger. Even the hearing of her name was something he still found hard to bear. That was not the only reason they had silenced Saylistra - the Tyrells, at least his father, had worked hard to rid themselves of their association with the Baratheons. And with Alyssa.
'Not where everyone can hear you, sweetheart,' his uncle whispered. Despite his soft tone, the severity was not lost.
Saylistra, ashamed, looked at the ground. Lyonel averted his eye and looked back at the spears. He tried to concentrate, he examined the handles and blades of every spear he passed … but was still unable to judge which one would suit him. In the background he heard his uncle Darrick's cheerful voice, presenting the weapons on the floor to Saylistra, who listened without once opening her mouth. He did not know if she was truly interested in what their uncle had to say, or if she was too polite to object. 'They may be old, these two treasures, but still sharp as the day they were grinded. That's something completely else than the combs you're used to, isn't it, Sae?' He laughed. 'But here's one you might like even better, girl. Don't you think it's a treasure? Elegant, you might even call it.'
'I like it,' Saylistra commented, 'Can I … maybe touch it? Lyo, look, don't you like this one?'
Lyonel quickly seized the opportunity. 'I like it very much, uncle, don't you think it would make a fine hunting spear?'
Darrick laughed. 'You do know how to pick them, Lyonel. The whole morning you look around but just can't find the one that suits you perfect, and when you see this one, right from the start, you know that's the one. That's the way real hunters do it. They recognize which steel will suit them in a glimpse of an eye.' Lyonel smiled politely at the compliment. 'I'll have it packed for the hunt.'
'Thanks for your help, uncle,' Lyonel said and walked away. His uncle muttered something like 'No problem'. Lyonel made his way across the courtyard, from the armory back to the main tower. Saylistra came behind him, half walking, half frolicking. 'Are you going to Elaena?' she asked him and he nodded. 'Maybe you would want to come along on the hunt?' he offered 'Then you'll get to spend some time with Elaena. You can sit with her, and with father and mother, while the men hunt. I mean, while the young men hunt.'
'No no,' she said while shaking her head resolutely. 'I don't belong in hunting parties. I'll stay in the garden. Elaena probably likes hunting, but I don't. I bet she has been to many hunts, living in King's Landing.'
To be honest, Lyonel didn't even know what Elaena thought of hunting. He hadn't even dared asking her to come with him. He wasn't ready for yet another improvised pretext of hers. She would use one for even the pettiest dinner invitation. Then he would have to tell his father why Elaena wouldn't come. His father would look disappointed and insist that he would ask her a second time. She would repeat him the same pretext, followed by a few quick apologies. Subsequently Lyonel would have to go to his father again and disappoint him two times in one day. That was, if he was lucky, and his father didn't request that he would ask her a third time. He did not want to run the same risk today. His parents had put a lot of preparation in this hunt, and Elaena's absence would spoil everything. He had found no other way than to declare at dinner that they would both come along. His wife had looked up and he had noticed a hateful fire in her eyes, even from across the table. He had wanted to say something kind at that moment, but had instead started talking about the wine. He knew that it was his right as her husband to command her, but it would have been nice if he could ask her and be sure she would consent.
The door to their room was on the second floor. The new room his father had given him. It was three times the size of his old room, had a separate bathroom, study and meeting room and splendid furniture adorned with gold. To be a lord, you must feel like one, his father had taught him. Lyonel did enjoy his new chambers, but he secretly desired to be back at his old room, closer to Saylistra and his younger siblings. He remember the many times when Sae had gotten scared at night and he had joined her under her warm blanket to comfort her. The bed he shared with Elaena, was cold.
When Lyo and Sae stood outside the door, Saylistra pulled his sleeve before he could open the door and enter. 'Lyonel?' she hesitantly asked, with a hint of worry in her voice. It instantly made her stop. He waited while Saylistra constructed her words in her mind. When she did speak, she kept her voice down.
'Elaena, is she dangerous? Don't laugh at me, I just … wondered.'
Lyonel was a bit taken aback. Where did this idea come from? Ever since the betrothal was proposed, all Saylistra could talk about was Elaena, and the things she wanted to do with her newly acquired sister. Yet he had done the same, he reminded himself, he had engaged in the same daydreaming, together with Saylistra, until he had recently felt the less colorful reality. Maybe his sister had undergone a similar realization, after she had seen Elaena for real. Elaena could have been unkind to her, or, gods forbid, she could have hurt her. 'No,' he answered as fiercely as he could without raising his voice. 'She's a child, you and her are the same age. Why would you think she's dangerous?'
'Because of that man.' She looked around her to make sure no one was listening.
'What man?'
'The man in the godswood. The ironborn.'
Corvo Greyjoy. Lyonel had heard the name a handful of times before in the last years, the son of an official traitor, who had since stayed in Essos. His name hadn't meant much to him and hadn't lingered. Until some cruel god had decided to throw him into the life of the Tyrells. Now his father, his mother and his uncle spent entire days discussing him and his offer, instead of accommodating Elaena as they had promised. And apparently, he even haunted his little sister's thoughts. He should have stayed at his salty rocks, reaving and scourging and doing whatever Ironborn liked to do, he thought bitterly, instead of invading their lives just when everything had seemed to come together for them.
'What lies has he told you?' he wanted to know. He tried to smile. He hoped that would comfort Sae.
'He said that we aren't safe, when she is here. That … that she will tell her family everything we do. He called her a serpent, but I don't remember why.'
'She can tell her family everything we do. They are our friends now.' For now. 'She's not evil, she's just a girl who has come here to look for a home.' She had a home, but we took it from her. 'So, we should make her feel welcome here, in her new home.' Something I have failed at so far. 'Shall we do just that?' Saylistra nodded with an uncertain smile.
Lyonel stood up, knocked on the door, remembered he wouldn't have to knock because it was his own room and entered. A beam of sunlight met his eye and troubled his sight. For a moment he thought Elaena wasn't there. An idle hope it was: he saw her striding towards him. Her silver hair was neatly braided, she was clod in a thick green dress and riding boots, around her neck hung her little necklace depicting a dragon. In King's Landing Elaena's temper had changed as often as the weather. In Highgarden, that was no longer true. Now she was a constant raging thunderstorm.
'Maester Osryck visited me today.' All he could see were her purple eyes, which were darker than her mother's. They had a dazing effect on him, as they narrowed with his lack of response. 'Again', she added.
Oh dear lord, Lyonel thought. 'He probably wanted to make sure if you were …' His voice grew frail. 'I mean, we chose the date of the wedding according to your monthly cycle. It would be a pity if we failed to get a child.'
'Nothing changed since the last time, Lyonel. I am not pregnant. Tell him that. I bled not long after the wedding night.'
'Maester Osryck apparently wasn't so sure if that was truly, you know, it. If he wanted to check one more time, well … He is the maester, he knows what he's doing,' Lyonel stumbled, suppressing his growing discomfort.
'Gods, Lyonel' she cried, 'I bleed lightly. Can we please stop discussing it? Just tell him I don't need to be examined over and over again. Especially not by him. He has the hands of a soldier, and the delicacy of one.'
'He won't bother you anymore. I promise,' he said and put his arms around her, as he usually did when he ran out of words to say. Elaena endured his embrace, patiently waiting until it was over. Even though she did not enjoy it, he did. He liked to feel her warmth, to smell her scent, to see her blond hair winded around his fingers. It were the only times he felt close to her.
'If you get a child, how will you name it?' Saylistra asked with a mixture of curiosity and shyness in her tone.
Elaena freed herself from his arms and Lyonel let her. She looked at Saylistra, and Lyonel could not help but wonder how it was possible that they were the same age. Where Saylistra was naïve and affectionate, Elaena was tough and sceptic. Perhaps this was because Saylistra had grown up in a caring and nurturing household, while Elaena had spent her childhood with figures like Gaemon. He could think of many words to describe Gaemon, but nurturing wasn't one of them.
'I don't know yet,' Elaena answered her sister-in-law's question, 'Perhaps you should ask your lady mother. I think there's a fair chance she'll be the one deciding it.'
Saylistra did not hear the resentment behind her words and continued with undiscouraged excitement. 'She chose my name as well. It was the name of a common girl that she grew up with and that was very dear to her, but she died during the Great Winter.'
'I think it's a very good name,' Elaena said and moved closer to Sae. 'You have beautiful hair.'
Sae giggled. 'Not as beautiful as yours. Yours is so … silver.'
'No,' Elaena nodded her head, 'my brothers, they have silver hair. And my cousins. They used to laugh at me because my hair was too dark to be Targaryen.'
'That's not fair. You can't help it if your hair is a bit darker. You're still their family.'
Elaena laughed. 'That's what families do. We all laughed a bit at each other. We laughed at cousin Rhaegel for his temper, at cousin Arian for being so small and at my brother Jaelyx for …' She paused a minute and when she continued, her voice was graver. 'Well no, we couldn't really laugh at Jaelyx.'
'You miss them, don't know?' Sae asked, 'We'll often go to King's Landing, the three of us.'
'I would like that,' Elaena said.
Please stop talking, Sae, Lyonel thought, before you make another promise I can't uphold. He didn't want to go to King's Landing. He didn't want to see her drunk of a father, her sour aunt Aelin, her violent uncle Raemus. The only one of her relatives who had been kind to him, was Aelora, her mother. But most of all, he feared he would lose all touch with her if he returned her to her family.
He cleared his throat. 'We should join the rest of the hunting party, Sae, Elaena.'
Elaena looked at him and nodded. Together they strolled back to the courtyard, he, his sister and his wife. This was his family, now, he reminded himself, and one day he'd be responsible for the both of them.
When they met with the rest of the party, they were joyfully greeted by all. While Sae shied away from so much attention, Elaena and Lyonel courteously responded and bowed to each of them. At least she plays the role of my dutiful wife in public, he thought. I guess I should be grateful for that. She made a courtesy to all knights of the Tyrell guards, politely flirted with some of them, even complimented little Jonos on his beautiful new clothes, even though they were clearly too large for him. When she caught side of her Kingsguard, she left Lyonel to walk up to him. His name was ser Lester Crakehall and Lyonel hadn't heard him say a single word, but what he lacked in talkativeness, he made up for in height.
Lyonel went on to look for his father. He found him next to the carriage that was to transport himself, his wife and the younger children to the hunting pavilion. He wouldn't go hunting himself; his physical shape did not allow it and he had never liked it anyway. Still, he enjoyed sitting in the pavilion, surrounded by nature, while watching the young men of his house excel.
He did not make an impressive figure, Lyonel had to admit. He was short, a bit plump and looked older than he truly was. As usual, he was very finely dressed, this day in long robes dyed dark blue. While he was talking to Lyo's friend Gawayne, he stood bent forward, leaning on his golden cane with the handle of a rose.
'With your leave, my lord, I will have subdued the beast and slit his throat before you have dismounted,' Gawayne boasted.
'And with your leave, I'll gladly eat it once you did,' lord Tyrell answered and he laughed, shrill as the sound of a weasel in distress.
'Father,' Lyonel solemnly greeted his father. 'Gawayne,' he then said at a more playful tone and winked.
'Son,' his father said, 'You look well-rested. Are you ready to face the beast?'
'Depends what beast we're talking about.'
'A boar,' he answered. 'According to the smallfolk it's as big as a cow. But of course, they also say the towers of Highgarden touch the skies, so we might have to put that in perspective. Still, it still seems to be quite the beast. A decent prize for the man who brings it home.'
'What do you say, Lyo?' Gawayne Hightower asked, 'Shall you and I make a bet for who can fell the creature?'
That he did not look forward to. 'Not this time, Gawayne. I will be accompanied by lady Elaena and I'd prefer not to lead her too deep into the woods.'
'Of course, Lyonel, you should stay away from dangers like that,' his father said. Was that a reproach or genuine concern, Lyonel thought as he watched his father walk towards his wife, who had their youngest daughter in her arms. He sometimes found it difficult to tell the two apart.
'So the princess will be with us?' Gawayne asked him as he .
'Yes, my wife will be there,' Lyonel answered. From this moment the two of you are one, he remembered the High Septon saying at their wedding.
'I always wanted to meet a Targaryen. A real Targaryen, not one of these arrogant purple-eyed jerks who can't shut up about how they have one drip of dragon blood in their veins.'
'Believe me, the main branch is no less arrogant.'
'Princess Elaena seems lovely though.'
You have only seen her public face, Lyonel thought. 'She's kind enough.'
'You don't sound madly in love. Or at least not as madly as you should be. The dragon lords don't often wed their daughters to people like us.'
I am attracted to her, Lyonel thought, and I want to make her happy. If that's not love, then what is? He however answered his own question. A memory arose in his mind, of him and Alyssa, walking on the battlements of Storm's End, her hands in his. She was to be my wife, it pained Lyonel to recall. His father had made the marriage pact with lord Baratheon in secret, to cement their alliance. They would have married, had he not fallen ill at the time. Instead, the wedding had been postponed, and the assassination attempt on prince Gaemon had scattered the friendship between the alliance and the plans for the secret wedding with it.
There was no point in pondering what might have happened if Gaemon had died as he was meant to. By a strange turn of events, Lyonel had ended up marrying Gaemon's daughter, and with his new bride came a new responsibility, which he was resolute to fulfill. He would make Elaena comfortable and her moods, her rage, her resentment, it would all pass. That much he promised himself. Perhaps it would be best to get her with child as soon as possible. Then she would no longer feel like an outsider in the Tyrell family. Then he and Elaena would be bound by more than a septon's sermon and a pact made by their fathers. Elaena would be the one to choose the name for the child, he decided. He tried to imagine Elaena with a suckling at her breast. The image unexpectedly pleased him. He straightened his back and watched as the portcullis was raised.
The party set off, led by ser Darrick Dustin and a few knights of the Household Guard. Then it was their turn: Lyonel and Gawayne looked at each other and spurred their horses. The rest of the party followed them. Among them was Elaena, seated on a chestnut mare, in the shadow of the gaunt Kingsguard who rode behind her. The beautiful, green gold carriage that carried his parents and the young children, formed the tail of the party.
With the wind at his back, the heir to Highgarden galloped through the muddy fields of the Reach. Everywhere they passed, the peasants looked up at the handsome young lord, in admiration of his noble countenance and elegant clothing, while none of them saw the worries he carried with him.
xxxx
Author's Notes
First of all, apologies for the - ahem- very long time that has passed. I got distracted by other projects and afterwards it became hard to immerse myself back in the story. While I was away, I noticed that I really missed writing this and I hated to disappoint my readers, who supported me with reviews and submissions. I'm happy to see you back and I plan to start publishing again on a regular basis.
Thanks to UltraCommando0946, who submitted Lyonel Tyrell. I really enjoyed writing through his POV. In fact, I planned for this chapter to be a lot longer, which made me decide to cut the chapter in half. The next part is yet to come.
Since I need to get back in the saddle, I would prefer if you would wait to submit new characters until the next chapter is published. I wish you all a pleasant day.
