CHAPTER 3 – THE CITY
Banners fluttered in the wind, and the wheelhouse rolled idly on over the cobblestones on the King's Road. Raeghun stared out the little window, not seeming to take in their surroundings. He'd been quiet and reserved. He wore knee-high boots over leather breeches, a sleeved cotton tunic under a fiery quilted doublet, and a black mantle secured to his shoulders with their house sigil moulded from gold and ruby.
"Raeghun?" his attention went to her.
"You haven't said a word all day. Are you sure this was the right choice?" Claira watched him, and then he took her hand in his.
"It will do us both good, to be away. Besides, you've never been to the capital." his thumbs gently caressed the icy skin on her knuckles. A group of riders passed them, flying banners of yellow and black, and the city came into view beyond the trees as they reached a curve in the road. The king himself had issued them an invitation to 'The Wanderer's Tourney', which was to be an annual event in honour of the birth of his daughter – princess Myrcella. Maester Adlyn was adamant that they attend, to escape their home and the sorrow that lingered there.
"As long as I'm with you, I don't care where we are." she smiled softly. Burdens had lay heavy on him. Barely a year past, they laid to rest his father, lord Rychard Taugere in the Ardent Tombs. During a skirmish on the castle, he took an arrow to the knee and even their maester's skills were not enough to save him, and the contagion spread. Claira's thoughts went back to that night. Upon his deathbed through fever and laboured breathing their father saw them all, and she – only she was the last to leave. She sat at his side, cursing fate for its cruelty. But he, refusing to submit to the agony and misery managed a smile and raised a cold hardened hand to her cheek.
"The future of our house lies with my son, and within you. He is strong and brave, but quick to anger. Help him…" he breathed, and she took his hand in hers.
"I will. I will protect his honour, and your name." and with that, the great lord Rychard Taugere left this world, but left her with a parting gift, and many things changed that day. Even her. No longer the timid kitten, but a bright and burning bird, soaring high above all else. Scarcely a season after, his mother joined her spouse in endless slumber, and shortly thereafter his sister left to join her bespoken in the reach. They were left alone in the immense castle to to assume all of its rights, and obligations. They entered the city through the Gate of the Gods and found their way to the finest inn that was available for their stay. 'The Great Horse' was located near the Sept of Baelor. As members of their household guard and inn-workers started to unload the chests from the back of the wheelhouse, Raeghun held his hand to help Claira from the compartment. Morning light washed over her, causing stains of bright and dark on the fabric of her purple dress; and brought out the contrasting colours of her hair which was tied naturally and held in place by a braid, the locks hanging down to the small of her back.
"You were right about the smell." she said, covering her nose.
"If blades don't keep your enemies away, this stink definitely will." he said, helping her across a puddle between broken cobblestones where they stopped. She couldn't help but laugh, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.
"I am happy, that we came." he said, and kissed her for all to see. Suddenly people dove out of the streets as a group of horses came cantering down, bearing the crowned Baratheon sigil. The guards stopped and circled the wheelhouse, Raeghun turned and stepped protectively in front of Claira, his left hand securing her behind his shoulder.
"Lord Taugere. You and your wife are to accompany us to the Red Keep at once." the foremost soldier instructed.
"A lizard-lion has more seemliness than you, ser. Return to your keep and tell whomever sent you that I refuse. Perhaps they should try again." Raeghun defied; the soldier seemed agitated at that.
"We've been sent by-" he started.
"I don't care who sent you. Return to your keep and tell them that I refuse to go with you." his voice was loud, and he properly emphasized whom he indicated. The guards and inn-workers paused to stare at them.
"My lord-" the soldier tried again.
"Are you deaf? I said go the-fuck back and stick your orders down your commander's throat!" Now, the attention of the people in the streets were focused on them. The soldier breathed in deep knowing that no words he'd say will cause a change of heart for the lord, and then left with his men following behind him.
"That was harsh, my love." she whispered softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned back to her.
"They needed it. Their mannerism needs some work. Shall we inspect our lodging?" they went inside, leaving the inn-workers and guards to complete their work. They found a table and proceeded to restore on sweet wine, Grana and batter-fried crusts.
"Are you sure you're al right? This endeavour may have been a bit much, right now." Claira asked as they shared a crust. He looked at her for a long moment, and then swallowed a mouthful of wine before replacing the goblet on the table. And then reached for her hand.
"I'll be fine. I just had a lot on my mind." he assured, and she returned the pressure on his hand.
"I know things have been hard, especially for you. But you're not alone, you know that don't you?" the sunlight spilling through the window caught his eyes, making them seem lighter than what they were, and like they were burning.
"I am the lord of Mount Ardor, Claira. I'm not allowed such luxuries." he said, his voice suddenly sullen.
"I'm your wife, Raeghun. Let me help you." Their eyes met again, and she recognized a harshness that was not meant for her.
"I shouldn't have to rely on you." the pressure on her cold hand increased, and she couldn't tell the desperation from the anger.
"Of course not." she pulled free from his grip, stood and left the inn to find clearer air elsewhere. She stood watching the people in the streets, smiths and tanners and merchants and farmers. Another group of riders flew by, bearing the green and gold of the rose. One rider stopped and circled, staring at her. A hand clasped her shoulder, startling her; and she looked back into his clear blue eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." again his arms went around her.
"I shouldn't lay my responsibilities on you, you have enough of your own." he corrected, and lay his head against hers; and she surrendered.
"I'll help you. Always, with anything. I'll help you..." he pulled back, a new smile on his striking features.
"I know." he kissed her again, and they chuckled. The sound of hoof-beats drew his attention, and horses came galloping down the path. Raeghun turned to face them. A fierce black-bearded man leapt from a white charger and marched towards them.
"How dare you refuse my summons?!" he stood abreast to Raeghun, eyes fuming.
"Your men frightened my wife." he defended, and the man looked at her, still standing behind her husband. More people in the streets stopped to stare, expecting a challenge from either.
"My apologies, gentle lady." he took her hand and kissed her fingertips politely. Then he laughed, loud and merrily, the citizens resumed their duties, looking rather disappointed that no act will take place here at their doors.
"Welcome! Welcome." King Robert Baratheon received them like family, rather than old friends, and they returned his gaiety.
"The last time I saw you, lady Claira was on your wedding day. You are still as lovely as then." the king complimented, drawing a light flush to her cheeks.
"Thank you, your grace. You are too kind." she graced him with a curtsy.
"And you, lord Taugere. As fierce as your father." he further directed, and Raeghun bowed his head to him.
"Where will you lodge?" Robert asked, looking at the wheelhouse behind them.
"At the Great Horse. It's fair." Raeghun said, motioning to the building behind them, rather stately for it's location.
"I'll not hear of it! You will stay in the Red Keep, under my protection for the extent of the tourney." Momentary shock silenced them as Robert issued orders to the attending guards.
"What are you all standing around for? Move the lord and lady's belongings to my hold, now!" he ordered, and then directed his attention to another two guards behind him astride their horses.
"What do you think you're doing? Dismount, you shits! Relinquish your horses to the lord and lady!" they obeyed reluctantly and brought the horses over.
"Come along, my honoured guests." he invited, mounting his steed again. They followed his suit; and together they travelled through the city to the immense palace overseeing the streets and buildings from atop Aegon's Hill. The guards led the way while two brown geldings hauled the wheelhouse and it's contents to the keep, the two dismounted riders trailing behind.
"It's a damn shame about your father, Raeghun. He was a great man, one of the greatest I ever knew. We won an extraordinary victory with him at our side." Robert said as their horses walked up the street.
"Thank you for your condolences, your grace." Raeghun returned.
"Well, let us enjoy the tourney..." Robert's words faded into the background under hoof-beats, rolling wheels, the clamour of barrels and crates as they were unloaded from carts, rushing water, and the endless humming of distorted voices. The ride seemed endless, while Raeghun and Robert conversed Claira scanned the streets. Yes, this was a beautiful city, but the people seemed less than satisfied; and the thought occurred that King's Landing was nothing more than a rotten peach. Enticing to glimpse, but festered on the inside. Was there such a difference between those inside the walls, and the beggar sitting around the corner? Tales of the great houses spread far and wide, some kind and some cruel, and all the shades in between. Blue, red, green, yellow, purple, orange, gold, silver, ivory... But inside a black so cavernous hid, so deep it could swallow the entire city and remain ravenous. The gates opened, and for a moment it seemed lighter before the shadows made their presence known as it consumed the group. Light and dark, two sides that would never be escaped; as obvious as the strands falling about her shoulders.
"Claira?" reality returned to her, and she looked down to see Raeghun's arms awaiting her. She missed the point where everyone dismounted. She released the reins and slipped into his hands, and he gently brought her to the ground. Castle hands appeared to stable the horses and deliver the waiting items inside.
"How far has your mind wandered?" he asked softly,
"I was admiring the city." she replied, shooing the thoughts away.
"Come along. The Red Keep is quite a bit bigger than Mount Ardor, I believe." King Robert called.
"Higher, not bigger." Raeghun muttered, and he and his wife shared a laugh before following. They strode through the halls, the sunlight spilling into every open space there was. They entered the throne room, it looked exactly like she heard it to be, albeit smaller than the Hall of Fire. Cersei exited the small council chamber behind the throne, dressed in an apricot pink dress, displaying open shoulders above wide knee-length sleeves. Her golden hair was secured with four braids from her brow, and fell naturally down to her waist, and around her neck hung a golden amulet with the head of a lion. A blonde man of equal attractiveness to her beauty following close behind.
"Jaime, you sack of chicken lard! Where in the seven hells have you been? Are you not supposed to protect your king, ser?" he called out at the sight of them, his voice rising to the cap of the hall.
"I was escorting the queen, your grace. Also, one of my duties." the man responded mannerly. Golden hair fell luxuriously around a handsome face, bejewelled with eyes of emerald. A white cape was anchored to a polished breastplate fully decorated with a crown.
"Well, get your golden ass over here and address my honoured guests!" he approached half-heartedly, and bowed subtly.
"I present, the wardens of the Corridor. The Lord and Lady Taugere." Robert announced. Jaime took Claira's hand, and carefully brought her fingers to his mouth.
"My lord, my lady. Ser Jaime Lannister of the king's guard, sack of chicken lard to the king, and brother to the queen." he presented himself. Cersei in turn, came over to them.
"Welcome to King's Landing, lord Taugere." she received, green eyes flecked with gold resting on Claira.
"Lady Taugere. What a pleasure to see you in the south. Summer weather changes you." she welcomed them.
"Thank you, your grace. Your hospitality is most becoming." Claira returned with a curtsy.
"You must be exhausted after your travel to King's Landing. I remember our journey up to Pale Haven, it took us more than a month. Naturally, three weeks in a rolling cage tends to leave you smothered." Cersei folded her hands in front of her abdomen formally.
"The journey was surprisingly pleasant, your grace. We encountered no ill intent on the roads." Claira returned, and the queen smiled at her, feigning ease.
"Such a relief, the countryside is crawling with bandits and other manner of foul creatures." she said, and then Robert placed friendly hands on the shoulders of his guests.
"Make yourselves at ease within my walls. Tonight, we will feast together." He invited with excitement, and then left the throne room on other business.
"Will you walk with me? I find the throne room rather uncomely." Cersei asked as she motioned to one of the many open doors.
"It will be a pleasure, your grace." Claira accepted, and Jaime extended a hand to Raeghun, perhaps a bit more zealously than he intended.
"May I show you our stables, my lord? A dornish trader came to our fair city to trade for the tourney. Many knights acquired their steeds from his bloodlines." he suggested, and Raeghun nodded.
"I would enjoy that. I've been meaning to renew my stables." Raeghun turned to Claira, and he kissed her, truly and tenderly.
"I will find you later, my sweet." then they parted drawing the uncomfortable stares of both the queen and her guard, and then he and Jaime left her in the queen's attendance. After another moment of silence, Cersei slid her hands around Claira's elbow.
"Come." she said, and they walked down a long hallway with many open arches and sunlight spilled in.
"You must miss your own family terribly; being shipped away to a foreign place. I can surely share the sentiment. My dear Robert has told me so many wonderful things of the Tormonts." Cersei said, attempting to be decent.
"I do miss them, but nothing that was done was against my will. My husband is good to me, and I enjoy the burning mountain as much as I did my childhood home." Claira replied, and Cersei glanced at her.
"You sound so positive, I wish I could share that." the tone in her voice was almost sad.
"Are you not happy here, your grace?" Cersei turned towards her then, letting her grip slide from Claira's arm.
"Oh I am, I have my children, I have my dear family, and my darling husband of course." she tried, but the words were sour with sarcasm.
"Happiness comes in many varieties, I suppose." Claira eased.
"Indeed. Some come more easily than others." Cersei agreed.
"Forgive my asking, but I have yet to meet another brother you have?" Claira enquired, glimpsing a mass of soldiers passing the hallway some distance from them, and suddenly realizing she was utterly alone.
"Vile, disgusting little monster. I would advise you to rather keep your distance from him. He's been called a dwarf, and a beast among other things. He may have the tenacity to upset you." the queen warned and sat down on a stone balustrade joining the pillars.
"I have a tendency to judge one by character, your grace; not appearance." Claira advised, still standing.
"Interesting you should say that. Some have named you the most beautiful woman in the kingdoms." Cersei directed, her eyes obviously examining Claira's face, her hair, and the curves of her chest.
"I don't claim the title, your grace. Most people call me what they so wish." Claira said, feeling a light flush of heat down the sides of her neck. Then Cersei stood again, and approached her, stopping so close she could feel the warmth of her breath against her face.
"Your hair colour is truly interesting. How did you manage it?" she enquired, tracing each contrasting strand with her eyes.
"I don't go to great lengths, your grace. It's been this way since I could remember, and it remains so." then Cersei adorned her pleasant mask once more, slid her hands around Claira's elbow and led her down the corridor to a table in a small private garden inside Maegor's Holdfast.
"I would imagine that it takes a lot of your time, yes. Tell me, how long have you been married, lady Claira?" she further enquired.
"Three idyllic years, your grace." They sat down at the table, and the queen proceeded to pour wine into two small crystal spheres.
"How wonderful." she offered one to Claira who brought the glass to her mouth and allowed the dark liquid to touch lips before replacing the small chalice on the table. It was bitter, and more solid than the sweet red she allowed herself on occasion.
"You don't drink?" the queen asked, tilting her head slightly and her long hair fell to one side.
"Forgive me, your grace. I have yet to acquire the taste for deep red." she said, and Cersei smiled again, but her her green eyes danced with malignity.
"Your maester must be well stocked of Moon tea, at least one cup a day, is that correct?" she enquired, bringing her own glass to her mouth and drinking easily.
"I've never heard of Moon Tea, your grace." Claira said, bringing Cersei's hand down.
"You don't? Sweet mother, then I must propose extract of the Cradle orchid for you." She said laying a hand on Claira's cold fingers in a gesture of kindness.
"It does wonders to rise your natality. Unless, of course there is something else you're not so eager to admit?" she grinned spitefully, her words laced with venom.
"I have nothing to admit. And I will not submit myself to challenging the threads of natural events." she said calmly, and Cersei sat back on the chair, the chalice close to her lips again.
"You do realize, that if you are unable to bear him any sons, you're of no use to him. Your great house, will end with you." she clarified, still smiling, but Claira scoffed warding off the cruel intent.
"If I may suggest it, familiarize yourself with the promise of our house, your grace. You may be surprised one day." she suggested, and then stood to leave Cersei with a crack in her leering smile. Heavy footfalls drew their attention, and a tall man emerged from the narrow garden path with whiskers of gold and flecked green eyes.
"Cersei. I see you've officially met the lady of the Corridor. King Robert has issued an invitation for lord and lady Taugere to lodge in the Holdfast of the Red Keep for the extent of the tourney." he informed as he lay a hand on the backrest of the chair.
"Lord Tywin." Claira greeted him politely, but Cersei stood.
"Well, isn't that grand. I trust you will enjoy your stay with us, then." she said, and then disappeared; in all likelihood on her way to complain about such arrangements.
"Such an extraordinary wonder you are, lady Claira. Had you not been promised to your current husband, I might have set a marriage to my Jaime." he said as he took her hand and kissed her fingertips.
"What a compliment, my lord; coming from you." she returned, and he motioned to the chairs.
"May I offer you some wine, my lady?" she shook her head.
"Regretfully my lord, I must put down your offer. I'm afraid my stomach does not agree with a deep red." she declined as he sat down and poured a fresh goblet for himself.
"We have a sweet white from Dorne, may I have one of the handmaidens fetch you a decanter?" he suggested, but she remained standing.
"Thank you, my lord; you are a gracious host. But I must see that our belongings are properly prepared for our visit. Perhaps in the days to come, my dear lord husband and I may both join you for a glass of wine." she curtsied, and he smiled at her.
"Enjoy the tourney, my lady." he said, raising the glass.
"And you, lord Tywin." she vanished, wanting to avoid another onslaught of questions and accusations she had no answer or justification to.
Raeghun and Jaime strode down the long hall of the royal stables, watching the stable boys groom and feed the many fine steeds.
"May I offer you my condolences, for the loss of your father, lord Taugere. I heard he was a great leader, and equally skilled in battle." Jaime said, his armour ringing as he moved.
"He was more than that. I hope that I may honour him still, and keep to the path he left for me." Raeghun reflected.
"I'm sure you will. You killed a lion, once. Not a Lannister, a real lion, I heard. Not an easy feat." Jaime looked at Raeghun with a smile that could almost match admiration.
"The poor creature was hungry, and weak." Raeghun said modestly. They stopped at a stall where an ebony mare was nursing an ivory filly, and Jaime rested his arm on the stable door.
"A lion remains a lion, my lord. To be honest, starvation would make the beast more desperate, and leaner muscles make for sharper claws. By the way, did it manage to... damage you, before you killed it?" Jaime hinted, and Raeghun could tell exactly where this was going.
"There is no flaw with me." he said, and the knight nodded, contemplating that.
"Your wedding was marvellous, lord Taugere. I recall it well." he continued.
"You were there?" Raeghun did not remember seeing him, at all.
"I was. Not in the front lines, of course; but I stood watching you from under one of the many trees. I can still see your face when her father removed the veil from her. What was it that you were thinking?" he asked, still smiling but the admiration turned into a sour jest.
"That she was the most beautiful woman in all creation; and she was promised to me." the lord said, thinking back to that day.
"Really? Well, that was not the impression that I got. But as men, we do what we must for the good of our houses; we keep the promises our fathers make to honour our names... Even marry a creature of the north." Jaime said, willing his voice to mirror empathy.
"I honoured my house, yes. But I love my wife, ser Jaime. Neither the circumstances nor its location matter." Raeghun determined, and Jaime smirked.
"Oh? But your house hasn't grown? Is she capable-" he started, but Raeghun's voice suddenly silenced him.
"It will." Jaime took a step towards him.
"You know, I could always help you out. Not all Lannister guards are light of hair, they'd love to speed you on your way." he whispered menacingly, and Raeghun could feel the fire in his veins. But despite his urge to destroy the knight's comely face, he breathed in.
"I'll decline. There are enough whores in this city to keep them busy until their deaths." he said, and then stepped aside to pass the knight. But as their shoulders brushed he stopped and glanced back.
"And if you, or any of your people ever disrespect my wife again, I will rip open your chest like I did the lion's jaw; and present your heart to her myself." he left him there to reflect on that promise. He stepped out into a busy street, and looked up to see a late day sun. He turned to make his way back to the keep, and nearly knocked a poor man over.
"My pardon. I didn't see you." A small little man turned towards him, old and hunched over, draped with an old cloak that may have been brown at some stage, and leaning on a thick wood staff.
"Not to worry, sire. I have been meaning to speak with you. But perhaps not here, in the middle of the street. I would enjoy a walk down to the blackwater. May I ask you to join me?" He spoke softly, and slow; stretching each word like a breath. Raeghun accepted, and followed the doddering man down the street and out one of the gates to a beach where the blackwater broke on red sand. He was a fisherman, too old and crippled by bone worm to continue his occupation.
"Have you come simply for the tourney, sire?" he asked as he walked along the shore. For an old and crippled man, he was fast and had immense stamina.
"That was the main reason, but while I'm here I might acquire some horses for my stables." They passed peasants washing clothes and sheets in the water, and children playing and splashing between the rocks.
"A splendid idea. May I suggest that you add to your household guard as well, sire? Many strong and loyal men have come to compete in honour of great houses. And as the soldiers say, 'the bigger the sword, the bigger the shield'." Raeghun paused. He hadn't heard that expression before, and assumed it must be associated with these summer people.
"I may consider that. However, it may be preferable to recruit people from our own lands." he said as he continued to follow the little man, still down the beach. They were well past the people.
"It is not their birth that must be in the right place, sire; but their trueness. Do you not agree?" The man asked as he sat down on a rock, rubbing his knees. Raeghun took that in as well. Then the man looked up at the lord, eyes white as morning mist.
"How fares your lady?" he enquired, and Raeghun stepped slightly closer, scanning the water as it splashed and rushed about the sand. And a sudden desire to release his thoughts washed over him, like the water over the stones.
"I wish to believe that she is content, but I must confess that I've been less than courteous of late, with all that has happened. And she won't say it, but I think that the fact that she has yet to conceive has left her wanting, and somewhat mournful. And some nobles have been less than sympathetic to her for those circumstances." he said, and the little man nodded his head.
"Oh, yes. The spite of the mighty. To them, it is strange that a house has not grown within a year of a wedding as grand as yours. And a crime, for every year later." he explained, and Raeghun looked back at him.
"I do not wish to add to her strain, but I admit it leaves a longing not quite like anything else..." he confessed, and the man laughed knowingly and smiled at him.
"The loneliness won't last, sire. Frost and flame will join, and she will bear you a son in time." he assured, and Raeghun looked back to where the Red Keep sat on the hill, overlooking the vast city. To where he left his wife.
"I wish to advise you, my lord; keep her close. Keep her safe. There are those throughout the kingdoms whom do not hold your wife in the esteem that you and your people do. Lowly and high-born alike. There is ill intent everywhere, within and without; and devastation lurks in every shadow. Your house was meant for great deeds, sire. And greater still, is the future that awaits your bloodline. Watch over her, and find the stone that will support her. A destiny awaits that will determine many things for your family, and this very kingdom, come the long night again..." He looked back to the rock, but the man was gone. He scanned both ways down the beach, but there was nothing. Not even a telling footprint, only the rush of the water, its disturbance almost resembling a voice, perhaps a whisper.
"Keep her close. Keep her safe. Find the stone." he turned and made for the castle as fast as he could, as a sudden inexplicable feeling of dread grabbed him like an invisible hand from the air.
She had somehow managed to find her way to yet another garden outside the walls of the keep, and wandered aimlessly until the sun set low to the horizon. She sat down on the edge of a motionless fountain, running her hands through the water that felt warmer than it was. A tear stained her right cheek, and her thoughts went back to the rotten peach. So often, you will find worms eating their way through what was left of the unpolluted core. It may have been a mistake to come, and again she found herself cursing fate.
"Such beauty; I don't believe I've seen you before. When did you arrive in King's Landing?" she looked back to see a short man standing behind her, dressed in leather and red, locks of platinum gold around his face. Had she been standing, he would barely reach the base of her chest. She wiped the tears away.
"Earlier this day." she replied as she breathed in. He cautiously approached.
"Oh, and I'm assuming that you found it less than pleasant." he stood next to her then, but she could not breathe her feelings to him. He leaned forward slightly to see her face.
"You seem to be distraught, lady Taugere. May I sit with you?" he asked, politely. And she raised her head.
"Of course." she motioned to the unclaimed edge of the fountain. He sat down, and stared at her. A sudden desire to lighten her heart overtook her.
"She's right, you know." she uttered, and he cocked his head slightly.
"Who?" he asked, and everything came at once.
"The queen. If I cannot bear my husband sons, what good am I to him? Gods, how I've wanted it. Wished for it for so long... I'm so tired of it all! And every fucking noble wants to know 'When' and 'Why', 'What's wrong with you?' and 'Is he fucking whores instead of you?', 'Are you fucking infertile?'" She covered her face with her hands, and breathed in deep, stifling a cry. She kept it there until her heart rate slowed, and then breathed out slowly. He remained there, staring at her. Then she blushed, feeling discomposed.
"I apologise, that was inappropriate." she said, wiping another escaped tear from her cheek.
"Don't worry. I understand, I won't tell anyone." he shuffled closer, and took an icy hand in his, short plump fingers warm and comforting around hers.
"And, yes. Yes, she is right about that. By the way, how long have you been married?" he asked as his fingers rubbed hers, attempting to release the enduring chill off her hands.
"Three years." she replied.
"And you're how old? Ten and six?" he estimated, glancing at her face.
"Ten and seven." she corrected.
"Ten and seven... Are you barren?" he registered, and his eyes went back to her hand.
"No." she blushed again.
"Is he barren?" his eyes continued to switch between her face and her cold hand, like he was searching for the answer himself without her uttering it.
"No." He looked up at her then, eyes of emerald and amethyst glinting benevolently at her.
"Then you have nothing to worry about. You're still young, both of you." he scooted another inch closer, still rubbing her cold hand.
"If I may dare to suggest something so plain, my lady. Don't want it, don't wish for it. Enjoy your husband whenever you wish, and allow him to enjoy you. Your sons – and daughters will come. When you reach your thirtieth year, I would recommend the occasional essence of 'Baby's Bed' - that pretty blue lily. When you reach thirty and seven, try harder. But when you're gone over forty, then start to worry." he said, and managed to draw a smile from her, and they shared the first laugh she could with someone as close to a friend since they've arrived.
"Your children will come, my lady. The gods have strange ways; but never lose your hope. Who knows, you may even receive your child tonight, gods be good." she blushed again, and smiled at him.
"You're an absorbing man." she complimented, and he pet her hand gently.
"Thank you, I've heard many other things, though." he returned, and she breathed in again, still smiling and she looked at him.
"Thank you, my lord." she said, and he seemed puzzled.
"For what?" he asked.
"You gave me my hope back." she felt strong again, and he nodded.
"It was a great pleasure that I could give you something back, in this dismal life. Well, if you will pardon me, my lady. I have some matters to attend to." he stood, kissed her fingertips and turned to leave.
"Wait. Who are you?" she asked, and he turned around to face her a final time.
"Tyrion Lannister, my lady." he introduced himself. The sun just disappeared over the horizon.
Raeghun finally entered the keep, and rushed down the halls. He passed a door to a feast hall, and saw the queen enter with two white cloaked guards, but without his wife. Assuming she was preparing for the banquet he made his way to Maegor's Holdfast. He scanned every corridor for their household guards, or his wife. He came upon two of the guards that accompanied them.
"Aleyne, Hewlett! Where is lady Claira? Where is my wife?" he demanded. The guards glanced at each other.
"We have not seen her since this noon, my lord." one said, and the dread washed over him again.
"Find her! Find my wife! Deliver her to me unharmed, or gods help me, my hounds will feast on you for a week!" he ordered, and they ran off while others joined them. They searched the hold and its gardens, the corridors and the halls. One of the guards returned with a report that she was nowhere in the holdfast.
"Search the city if you must!" In that moment, Robert came down the corridor with several guards following.
"Lord Raeghun, in which hell are you? The feast has started." he said coming up to him.
"Claira is missing." he informed, and the king looked back at his guards.
"Well? You heard the lord! Find lady Taugere! Find her and bring her here, or I'll shove spikes up your asses instead of your heads!" they scrambled off to continue the search. Close to an hour passed before the first of the guards returned with their reports, panting and wheezing.
"We've searched every inch of the castle, my lord. She's nowhere inside the keep." Anxiety gripped Raeghun like the chill of a winter wind, but then Robert placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll find her." he promised, and then looked back at the guards.
"Move, you shits! Your search hasn't ended! Search all the way up to Winterfell if you have to!" Raeghun moved past them, the sudden suspicion driving him forward. Moments later he stood amidst trees and shrubs of bright flowers, a full moon's light shining down on him.
"Claira! Claira!" he called into the shadows, scanning the surroundings, every darkness deeper than the one next to it.
"Claira!" his cry carried through every space, and up to the highest tower; the talons of foreboding sinking deeper into his heart.
"Raeghun?" he turned, and she stood behind him, glittering in the moonlight. The fear left him then, and he went to her, throwing his arms around her and he breathed her in, the scent of vanilla filling his lungs.
"You're beautiful. I love you." he kissed her, and held her close, quelling her tiny frame against his, so much so he could feel the cool of her skin through the dress.
"What happened?" she breathed against him, and he kissed her again as he took her face in his hands.
"I've had... Nothing. Nothing happened." he pushed the thoughts away, and let his face rest against hers.
"Please... Don't go anywhere alone, ever. Promise me." he whispered, and she could feel his fingers trembling against her skin, knowing that there was a reason for his change.
"I promise." her arms went around him, discovering that it was more than just his fingertips that were shuddering. After another moment that he held her close, they went inside and found king Robert in the hall, and much to his relief that the lady was unharmed he herded them to the feast. They sat to the king's right side, and dined on honey glazed suckling pig, freshly baked bread and sweet lemon cakes, all while listening to flute and harp music and the many discussions of the lords, among them the king's brothers, lord Stannis and lord Renly; lord Tywin and lord Tyrell accompanied by his mother lady Olenna, and many, many others. Children ran up and down the hall while attending handmaidens watched over them. After most of the guests have retired, Raeghun leaned over to his wife.
"We've had a long, and tiring day. Perhaps it is time to retire." he said, and drowsily she agreed. He stood and held his hand for her to help her up, and they made their way down the hall towards the holdfast. At a window, overlooking the city he paused and brought her hand to his mouth.
"Go on, I'll join you in a moment." he urged, and let her slip away with three guards attending. He looked over the place called King's Landing, scanning every light in the shadows.
"Lord Taugere, may I offer you a last glass of deep red?" a short man offered as he approached down the corridor.
"Your deep red tastes like dirt, lord Tyrion. I might settle for a dark ale, though." he tempted, and Tyrion smiled.
"My thoughts exactly. Unfortunately, ale is not served at rich feasts like these. Suffice it to say, I've grown sick of the innate gossip here. If I could persuade you to take a walk with me to the holdfast, I have a pitcher waiting in my apartment. It's a short walk from your own chambers, and your lady wife awaits you, so I won't keep you long." he said, and they resumed their walk to the inner keep together, talking about the world outside and the expectations of the tourney.
"You're not going to start with a compliment and end with an insult?" Raeghun finally asked, and Tyrion looked up at him.
"Why would I do that? I would much rather start with an insult and end with a compliment, tends to keep your head on your shoulders a bit longer from what I've heard of the northerners." Tyrion said and approached a door, placing his hand on the wood he pushed and it swung open to reveal a spacious chamber.
"Do you find yourself curious about our circumstances as much as the others?" Raeghun asked as he entered, and Tyrion closed the door behind him.
"Not at all. I find it preferable to let things just proceed naturally." he said, and went over to a table awaiting then with a pitcher and a bowl stocked with fruit. Two silver plates sat waiting to be used on the smooth surface. Tyrion took the pitcher and filled two long goblets with dark liquid, a rim of foam resting on the top.
"I've met lady Taugere earlier this day, she truly is a fascinating woman. The gods favoured you, to bring love over such vast borders." Tyrion complimented as he took one goblet, and offered the other to his guest. Raeghun took it from his hand, and sat down on the chair facing Tyrion. Two glinting eyes of green and black took him in kindly, and he smiled.
"If Raeghar Targaryen had not started the war, she may not have been mine. I must thank him, when I reach the hell he's been ridden to." Raeghun said bringing the goblet to his lips.
"He has a lot to be thanked for. Robert is king, my sister is the queen, my brother is a king's guard, my father oversees many small council meetings, and I have the pleasure of lodging in one of the finest taverns the world has to offer." Tyrion said, motioning to the area around them.
"You're not at all like the others." Raeghun laughed.
"I have the name, but not the manner, lord Raeghun. My intent is to keep it that way." Tyrion said taking another sip of the ale. Raeghun rolled the chalice between his hands.
"I understand you've shown my wife kindness, I thank you for that." he said, and Tyrion nodded slowly.
"She is lovely. She has a kind heart, and a gentle soul. I can see why you love her so dearly. But she's stronger than you realize." Tyrion said as he took another mouthful of ale.
"In what way?" Raeghun brought the chalice to his mouth, swallowing.
"Well, having to endure all the vicious onslaughts regarding your house. Few ladies would stand there and have an answer ready. She might not hold a sword, but she can strike back with a keen word, or two." Tyrion said, refilling his cup from the ewer.
"Oh, that she can." Raeghun agreed and swallowed again.
"Her father is lord Willmon Tormont, isn't that right?" Tyrion further enquired.
"Yes, the Grey Tom." Raeghun confirmed.
"The great strategists of the north; their house has never lost a battle. I assume that she attended one or two war councils with him. It clearly shows in her, I've observed her exchange of words with my sister earlier today." Tyrion hinted as he drank again.
"They bickered?" Raeghun felt a rush of heat trickle down his neck and chest, but Tyrion grinned, again filling his goblet.
"Hardly. Cersei doesn't enjoy backlash, but it would have been interesting to see how it would have ended, had my father not interjected." Tyrion said as he brought the goblet to his lips. Raeghun studied him for a moment.
"What happened?" he asked as he drank again.
"Well, to put it bluntly; in a very lady-like and polite manner, lady Claira Taugere told the queen to go fuck herself." The laughed together.
"Given her calm and adequately calculated temperament for retaliation, your wife may be better suited to the life of a queen than my sweet sister. But I would appreciate if you kept that between us." Tyrion said raising the chalice an inch higher.
"Of course. I don't enjoy their company much, but the king has been a friend of my father for many years." Raeghun confessed, and Tyrion nodded at that again.
"Yes, he helped him win the war. Without the lords of the Corridor, I dare admit that the war may have went either way." Tyrion reflected.
"Here's to fate." They brought the goblets together in a gesture of friendship, and Raeghun emptied the contents.
"And here is where I must leave you, lord Tyrion. I did enjoy this, apart from Robert you are the only one that has shown us any true courtesy. Perhaps before we return to Mount Ardor, we will enjoy a day like this again." Raeghun said as he replaced the goblet on the table, and stood up.
"Oh, please do. Go keep your promise. And by the way, should your son arrive in this world, I would very much like to meet him. He will be a rare thing in this universe, to possess all great power, leadership, intelligence and the right name." Tyrion said, again raising his chalice. Raeghun proceeded through the holdfast to their chambers, finding the three guards he assigned waiting at the door.
"You may take your leave, enjoy the remainder of the night and return to your duties at dawn." he instructed, and they left after thanking him. Raeghun entered the apartment, and found her standing in front of a warm fireplace, releasing her hair from a faded green gown she may have pulled over her shoulders barely a few moments past after enjoying a bath. He went to her, and gently turned her around to take her face in his hands and kissed her deeply while her cold fingers wrapped around his wrists. His right hand withdrew to release the cloak from his shoulders, and remove the doublet and shirt from his burning skin. Then he took her in his arms again, and breathed in her sweet scent before kissing her again, his fingers undoing the lace of the gown and letting it fall to her feet. He buried his face in her neck and heard her gasp as he branded a kiss on her cold skin and her arms went around his shoulders as he pressed her against him.
"Raeghun... The windows..." she whispered softly, then he pulled back and ran his palm down her cheek and wove his fingers into her free hair.
"Let them watch, I don't care. I'll make love to you every night, even if it spites them." his mouth found hers again before trailing down her neck and shoulder as he picked her up from the floor and lay her on the soft bed, then relinquished his breeches for the cool air. His lips left warm point on the skin of her chest as his hands brought her knees past his hips and he took his place. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck before she pulled him closer into another kiss, and his left arm wound around her, and he found her neck once again.
"You are mine..." he declared softly at her ear, and strained as he slipped inside of her, causing her to breathe in sharply; feeling him as he moved her sweet sighs gave way to soft moans of rapture.