Chapter 12 -

53AC

Lord Brynden Tarth sat in his solar nursing a mug of a new drink all the rage across the breadth of the Stormlands. A drink made by the same lord whose letter was now causing him a bigger headache than the drink itself.

The isle of Tarth did not change. It had always been and would always be. This new character was making waves, whether good or bad was yet to be seen. The decision left to be made was whether to gamble on him to raise the wealth of House Tarth or abstain from his plans and perhaps miss out on great gains that could be made.

The deal offered was not an unfair one and could certainly make much profit, more so than any other enterprise of House Tarth. Eastwood Whisky, a valued commodity amongst all of southern Westerosi nobility. It's popularity only rose as time went on and was managed by the mercantile Aelon Eastwood.

Lord Aelon had requested an alliance of sorts, to form something he titled as a 'company'. The purpose of which would be to establish trade routes over sea with the major cities of Westeros. He had contacted Brynden as ships could not be anchored on his lands for long because the coast of his lands was along the notorious Shipbreaker Bay, making the Sapphire Isle the logical choice for nearby ship trade.

Lord Aelon had stated in his terms that he would pay the cost of building the trade fleet, all Brynden needed to do was provide the anchorage and man the ships. The idea was that a small dock would be built on the new Eastwood lands seized from House Buckler from which the trade ships would pick up shipments of whisky and then depart on their route.

Tarth had often been the anchor place for fleets of the old Storm Kings, and could easily harbour a trade fleet. As beautiful as the sapphire blue seas of Tarth were they were sadly not as precious as real sapphires. House Tarth has always suffered from low income, for all their history and prestige as honourable vassals to the Storm Kings, coin was not their strength.

The Sapphire Isle was Lord Eastwood's only option for sea trade, this gave Brynden the high ground in the negotiation, a fact he would not fail to take advantage of. Brynden was much intrigued and tempted by this offer but he loved his daughter Arianne too much to give her to just any merchant, no matter how wealthy. Yet perhaps this Aelon was not just any merchant, within only a handful of years of rulership he had developed his lands in a manner formerly unseen. His most recent escapade with Lord Buckler had only left him more powerful, though with a number of powerful enemies.

House Buckler were well known for their hotheadedness, even amongst Stormlords. Whilst other houses may not be open about their derision of the bastard lord, they were most certainly thoroughly considering their options and would not leave Aelon alone indefinitely.

This left Brynden with another angle of negotiation, the lord of a new and small house simply did not have the hard power necessary to challenge an elder house. Lord Tarth could shield Aelon as part of their agreement, even forming closer ties with House Errol as they had seemingly taken a liking to the young lord.

Most lords in the Stormlands would refuse to deal with such a new house just on principle. Martial strength is respected, trade and commerce are not. Brynden of House Tarth was not one of those lords, House Tarth has the age and respect, but not the wealth. This deal was about more than just trading his kin for a chest of coins. It was about developing a whole new enterprise and source of income that will benefit his family for generations to come.

It was a solid idea, all that was left was the implementation. Gambling his daughter to a mercantile bastard lord would be too risky, too high a price. His niece Elena would perhaps make a finer match.

The Evenstar set his mug down and leant back in his chair, closing his eyes and considering the issue. Nothing good comes absent risk, House Tarth could do with some good.

Elena had always loved her uncle. Ever since she was a girl he had treated her with utmost kindness as if she were his own daughter. Which is why she found it so hard to hate him right now.

"Why must I marry him?" she asked not for the first time during this discussion.

This morning her uncle, the Lord of Tarth, summoned Elena and her parents to his solar to tell them of an arranged marriage.

At first, she was speechless and confused at the suddenness of it all, but then she grew delighted. This was the moment she had been preparing since she was born, all her embroidery, her courtesy lessons with the septa and all the stories her mother told her, all for the purpose of making her a perfect wife to please her future husband and bring pride to her house.

She imagined her future husband like in the stories, a strong, gallant, fearless and beautiful knight who would treat her like a queen.

"W-Who will I be marrying uncle?" she did her best to remember her courtesy and not look giddy in front of her uncle.

Lord Brynden smiled as he replied, "Lord Aelon of House Eastwood."

Then her delight went back to confusion "Who?" It was all she could say. She never heard of a house called Eastwood. She knew about the Eastwood forest land near Storm's End but she had not heard of a house with the same name.

Lord Tarth took a deep breath, "Lord Aelon was ennobled and granted what was once the village of Eastwood and its lands. Lord Aelon has approached me for a business deal and as you know, the best way to seal a deal is with a marriage. Lord Aelon has a very strong mind and has already enriched himself with the creation of Whisky. I am sure you have seen how popular it is around here. His future looks incredibly promising and I would see him tied to us."

"I don't want to marry him." Her voice was a whisper.

His expression softened as he looked her in the eyes, her tears threatening to fall. "I know this is not what you had hoped for Elena, but if you give him a chance I am sure things will turn out well in the end."

Elena turned to her father who stood behind her uncle. Her father looked down at her sadly and shook his head.

Her father had always been a submissive man. Rarely, if ever challenging the word of his brother or anyone considered his better. He told her it was because of duty, but she had started to think it was his lack of spine.

Then the conversation was over, with last words from her uncle on how all must make sacrifices for the good of their house.

She ran off as soon as she could, tears falling. She found solace in the castle gardens. Staring at the neatly laid rose beds.

Elena, despite her delusions, was not a stupid girl. She knew that the daughter of a vassal lord would not be a queen or a princess. But her family were no mere vassals, they were once kings in their own right long ago and had served the lord paramount faithfully since before the Conquest. Her mother was also of house Velaryon with close ties to the Targaryen royal family, her mother once a close friend to the former queen. She hoped that her name at least would be enough to gain her a good match. Marrying a Baratheon and ruling over the Stormlands did not seem implausible, it had happened before.

But this Aelon was elevated to lordship with nothing but a drink to his name. His house younger even than her count of years.

An hour passed as she sat there lost in her thoughts before a hand lightly touched her shoulder. She quickly turned towards the intruder to find the soft and sympathetic face of her mother, Larissa Tarth nee Velaryon. Elena turned away again as her mother sat beside her.

They sat together in silence whilst Elena's tears dried before eventually, Elena spoke. "Tell me about him please."

Larissa did, she told her daughter all she had heard of the new Lord. How he had been born a bastard of a Qoherys bastard. How Aelon had been ennobled as a reward for his father's service during the war against Maegor the Cruel. How since being gifted his lordship, he had brought in countless reforms and began new enterprises which brought in substantial gold to the village, now town of Eastwood and the increased quality of life brought a stream of immigrants which culminated in his confrontation with House Buckler.

She then spoke of how Aelon had the eyes and hair of Valyrians the same as Elena and that he was by all accounts an attractive boy who would grow into a dashing knight. Playing to Elena's fantasies, the girl let out a smile at that. Her tears were forgotten and her hope began to rise.

Perhaps her marriage would not be so bad.

I awoke with the throbbing of my pulse permeating my every thought. I lay there willing my thoughts to clear and swearing never to drink alcohol again. A promise I knew I would not keep.

I rose slowly and stumbled my way to the table to pour a mug of water. Draining the mug in one I splashed water on my face at the stone basin and struggled to remember the previous night. When no explanation came I resolved to sleep off the hangover and work it all out later.

I turned to return to bed and was met with the wide-eyed gaze of a girl, her violet eyes shining up at me as she concealed her form with the sheets. This was not just any girl, but my wife. How did one simply forget they got married the previous day?

I groaned and made my way back to bed. Settling back down, my wife turned to face away from me.

As I started to sober up the memories of last night came back bit by bit. It was a modest affair with around fifty guests, followed by a rich feast afterwards.

Elena Tarth, niece of Lord Brynden Tarth the Evenstar was the bride. A true beauty, taking much after her mother, Larissa Velaryon.

When I first sent the Evenstar the letter with my offer I asked for the hand of his daughter to seal the pact but Lord Brynden Tarth refused and instead offered his niece. Elena was younger than her cousin but flowered and well mannered. Age didn't matter too much since both girls looked too young to wed from my perspective but I made my peace with it.

It was inconvenient to not wed the daughter of the Lord since that would have given more political sway but I had no room to complain, I was just grateful Lord Tarth accepted and now I could begin expanding my trade at sea. This offer was a long shot to begin with, some would say I had the nerve to ask for the hand of a lady of a noble and ancient house when all I am is an up-start merchant. Fortunately, Lord Tarth proved to have more sense than pride and was willing to negotiate.

Elena reminded me a lot of the book depiction of Sansa Stark. A young highborn girl who grew up with songs and tales of knights and princesses. A girl who grew spoiled in comfort and expected the world to be sunshine and rainbows. When I was reading the books I took a perverse sort of pleasure reading Sansa's chapters, watching her delusions break and learn the true nature of the world in her sorrow.

I felt none of that pleasure now.

In the sept she had looked at me with broken eyes and a forced smile, appearing to be on the brink of tears.

I wished I could give her that fantasy. Years in Westeros had made me harder, but at heart, I was still not made of stone. Always wishing things could be better for everyone, and I had achieved limited success. But I certainly had not fixed every problem, could not fix every problem. Perhaps that was my curse, my burden? Bearing knowledge of how things could be better and endlessly attempting to achieve the unattainable.

I closed my eyes and let my thoughts clear. I had grown used to being a lord in my years here, carried myself in a certain way and when I spoke, people listened. Always being the man with the answers forced you to adapt very quickly. Yet I could find no words to say to my wife, nor comments to make on this situation. I had not hoped for a happy marriage, far from it in fact. The idea of love in an arranged marriage was a rarity indeed and I had always prided myself on being a realist. Still, I had hoped that at the very least my wife would not despair at the sight of me, a hope that seemed to be fruitless.

I concluded that I should just leave her alone, she can make her own life within the walls of Eastwood and I would only see her when necessary. Perhaps that way she could find some happiness of her own. I had important matters waiting on me anyway, progress does not come for free after all. With that in mind, I drifted back off to sleep, unconsciousness a comforting embrace.