Dance of Ice and Fire
schrutfarms
Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Summary:
Daemon presents a gift for his son.
Feast happens and Gaemon gives Rhaenyra a gift.
Notes:
So I am back with an update on this story. Hopefully, y'all won't be waiting a long time for the next chapter.
I admit, I am not too pleased with the with the update.
.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Daemon
King's Landing – 112 AC
His son picked up the leather scabbard that Daemon had placed on the table. "It is light," his son noted as he observed the hilt. The pommel had a bronze dragon carved with two eyes that were made of yellow beads. The grip was made up of stones with leather covering the handle. The Crossguard was carved to appear as if it was aflame and wavy somewhat akin to Dark Sister. Daemon had retrieved a red ruby from Ventario's vault before he left for the capital and had the smith
Daemon smirked and nodded, "Valyrian Steel tends to be as such."
At the mention of Valyrian Steel, Gaemon looked at him wide-eyed. His mismatched eyes were filled with awe as he began to move away and unsheathe his sword and look at it with reverence.
The sword was a fine thing of dark ripples going through the center extending out towards the sharp edge. Unlike Dark Sister, this sword was larger, not as big as Blackfyre. Gaemon held the blade and assessed it with his sword hand. He swung it around in the air and let out a joyous laugh.
"Magnificent," he whispered.
"How do you find the balance?" Daemon asked.
"I had thought to be heavy, but you are right, Valyrian Steel is light. Though I wonder," Gaemon swung around as he murmured, "if a sword like this is light, then Dark Sister must be light as a needle for you."
Daemon chuckled at that, "Aye, that it was. I remember the first time I had held it. It was light, far more than the sword that I had possessed. I asked my father how can a sword as light as the Dark Sister can be deadly as it is said to be? You know what my father did?"
His son looked at him curiously as Daemon continued, "he took me to the sparring yard where they had the straw dummies." Daemon let out a chuckle recalling his father's command, "he told me, 'Strike it, son,' he said. I still remember the serious look on his face. At the time, I was too young to see the mischief hidden behind it. Now, I had known the tales of Valyrian Steel and it being sharp and I had even seen my father use it, but to truly hold it in your hands and swing it after, now that is something else."
There was a moment of quiet, "so what happened after you strike?" Gaemon asked breaking the silence.
Daemon glanced at his son with a wry smirk upon his face, "I had thought that when I would have struck the dummy, my sword would get stuck in the dummy. Alas, in the end, with the force that I sliced my sword and I fell, kissing the mud and grass while my father laughed like a madman. And to my dismay the men-at-arm that were present in the courtyard."
He still recalled looking at the straw dummy that was cut in half. Some men-at-arms had been present who had been smiling at the time. His father had picked him up and ruffled his hair much to Daemon's chagrin. It was a fond memory to think back on, yet now it only saddened me that his father was not around.
After his son turned to him and had a grateful smile on his face. He placed the sword back inside his scabbard.
"Well, I am glad that you would not be laughing at me when I try to strike," Gaemon japed.
"I am sure there will be other opportunities for it," Daemon retorted back, ruffling his son's hair. Gaemon gave an irritating groan as he placed the scabbard down. Looking at Gaemon now, he still has a hard time imagining how much he had grown. His brown hair was combed and tied to the back. The clothing that he had worn befitted the court of the Red Keep. Daemon had seen the plain Northern garbs that his uncles had worn and thanked the septa that she had the sense of teaching him in the apparel.
The black velvet doublet was regal with bronze and gold laces weaved to show a snarling dragon. He wore a heavy gray cloak which was held by two gold clasps. His face was long but Daemon could see himself in it. The way he held himself and the charm with which he had spoken was all him. It was one of the things he had noted when he had seen him alongside his niece. Rhaenyra was certainly a thing of beauty. The bards who had called her Realm's Delight had some credence in it. Her long wavy hair, her pouty petulant lips, and her body appeared as if it was the finest sculpture of the Maiden itself.
"So, are you looking towards the feast this evening?" Daemon asked his son casually as he turned.
"Aye, it will be quite a sight to see ol' Roddy dancing the southern dance," Gaemon chuckled at that. There was a Northern brogue in his voice that made his voice sound like amber.
Daemon rolled his eyes at that, "yes, yes, it would be quite a sight to see your Northmen to dance amongst the 'southern'." He emphasized the 'southern' using the same Northern tone that his son would. Gaemon looked at him amusingly, "you know kepa, you would need to stay a few more years up North to get the Northern tone correct."
At that, he snorted, "believe me, my son, I have lived long enough amongst your Northern men down South. You should have seen them down at Stepstones, they were one step away from melting into water."
Gaemon laughed at that, "now that was a sight I would love to see. You should have seen the discomfort Bolton was in. His bickering was one of the reasons why I flew ahead into the city."
Daemon regarded his son for a moment, "I am certain Rhaenyra was plenty excited to see you."
At the mention of Rhaenyra, there was a faint blush upon his face. "Yes, she was happy to see me."
"What is this now?" Daemon looked mirthfully at his son and teased him, "my son, rider of Vermithor, slayer of slavers, and the man who brought wildlings to his knees is blushing like a maid."
Gaemon groaned, "it is not like that."
"Have you laid with anyone yet?" Daemon inquired flippantly.
His son's eyes widened at that and cleared his throat, "no," he said meekly.
It amused Daemon to see his son squirming, "it is alright son, you need not worry. I am certain those Northern Uncles of yours must have taught a thing or two about honor, but you have my charm and by the time this moon ends. You will have all the maidens of the realms swooning over you."
"I only want one to swoon over me," Gaemon quietly said. Something about the way he said reminded him of the boy that he had last seen in Winterfell.
Daemon smiled and placed a kiss upon his hair, "do not worry, even she will be taken by you."
It was at that instance; Gael came into his room alongside his half-sister. They were dressed in riding clothes. His aunt Gael appeared rather frail compared to the last time he had seen her. Has Alicent been sucking the life out of her? Daemon wondered. Yet despite her being frail, she was still a resplendent beauty that could still charm the knights of the court. His half-sister was a wild beauty, though, unlike Lyanna, her face had a soft grace that is oft found in maids of the South.
"Muna," Gaemon called her out as he stood up.
"Gaems," Gael called him out with a soft smile. His son embraced her as she sat down next to him. Daemon missed a pouty girl approaching him. It was hard to call her his sister for she was even younger than Gaemon. Yet that is what she was, only daughter borne out of his father's seed. She was a beautiful creature as well, she had remnants of Lyanna in her. A Targaryen through and through her silver-gold hair was flowing and open unlike braided. She did not appear regal but there was no denying that she was the blood of the dragon.
Alyssa was more a sister to his son than she was to him due to their age.
"Did you just come from King's solar?" Gaemon inquired Gael.
Gael sighed and nodded, "yes I did. He was speaking to Archmaester Vaegon."
From the corner, Alyssa snorted, "I still cannot believe that sour old grouch is your brother."
Gael glared at Alyssa, "that is not the way you speak. Whoever, he may be, he is still your uncle."
He tried recalling the chinless maester. Daemon had spoken with him at the Great Council of Harrenhal. The man thought happiness and japes were a sin. How he had possessed the blood of the dragon? Daemon will never know.
Alyssa shrugged, "have you ever seen how he looks at me?"
That caught Daemon's interest, "how does he look at you?"
"As if I have boils upon my face," Alyssa exclaimed.
Gaemon snorted, "he pretty much looks at everyone like that. If maiden incarnate walks in front of him offering him her maidenhood. He would disregard her as a sour lemon."
That made Alyssa giggle and Daemon threw his head back and laughed. Even Gael had a guilt-ridden smile upon her face, however, she immediately schooled her face. She stood up and went towards the table and picked up a bowl of dates.
She nibbled on it, Daemon looked at her and asked, "what was he pestering on about?"
Gael glanced at Gaemon and back at him. She looked down and then back at his son, "they were talking about the crannogmen at the Neck."
At the mention of that, Gaemon's face darkened. He stood up abruptly and placed the scabbard belt over his shoulder. The blade was too long for it to be hung over the waist belt.
"If you would pardon me, I would like to test the sharpness of Gram," Gaemon said in a dark tone, yet Daemon could sense that he was not serious. However, Gael was aghast at his words.
"I pray that you are japing," Gael pleaded.
Gaemon looked at her and calmed a little, "of course I am muna. I will not be killing him." He reassured her and then had a sheepish smile on his face, "maybe I will slice through his whiskers a bit."
Gael appeared as if she was about to retort but Gaemon merely laughed and embraced her. "I will only talk. Vaegon is meddling in affairs that he has no business in."
"And what business is that?" Alyssa inquired. It had even left Daemon curious to wonder.
Gaemon sighed, "the crannogmen of the North have often been elusive. They have preferred not to meddle in the affairs of the North. Despite Lord Reed has been a great patron to me and the builders at the North. The rest have maintained their distance but have been loyal."
He looked towards the door and then back at them, "based on my new lands and income. I have earned the title of the Lord of the Neck, which would mean that the crannogmen are my vassals. Now archmaester Vaegon is convinced that there are herbs and medicines in the Neck that can be used to cure diseases. The soil does seem to have some medicinal quality and has often helped mend wounds among my men."
"So, what seems to be the matter then?" Daemon shrugged.
His son gazed at him with sadness, "the matter is that Vaegon wishes to raze the lands that the crannogmen live in. A task which is difficult and dangerous and more importantly Crannogmen live in the bogs. Their keeps and holdfast do not remain in one place, rather it keeps on moving which is why ravens often find difficulty reaching there. Crannogmen prefer their lives to be elusive. But the razing is not it, he desires to see a canal built which would require time and resources which are far more detrimental than beneficial. If Vaegon persists with the king, I will lose the love and faith of my men."
They listened to Gaemon for a while. Daemon could not help but be proud of his son, he reasoned like a lord. "Then you best get to the King, Gaems, and see to it that you use my charms. Viserys is often taken by it."
Gaemon smiled at him and left the room. Gael was surprised to hear Gaemon's reason but appeared rather pleased to hear his reasoning.
"It is hard to believe that he has grown up so much," Gael noted.
Alyssa rolled her eyes, "he is about to be ten and five. If he would be the same boy that he was when he was in the capital. That would be too worrisome no."
Daemon smirked at that. "My sister speaks sense here Gael."
At that Alyssa whipped her head surprised. Daemon looked at her, "what?"
Her eyes narrowed, "it is the first time you have addressed me as a sister."
Gael had to laugh at that, "our family is truly queer, is it not?" She looked at Daemon, "I am almost the same age as you and I am your aunt and at the same time I am your mother by marriage." She then turned to face Alyssa, "you, my dear, while you are younger than Gaemon happens to be his aunt and half-sister to this one."
Gael said pointing towards Daemon who was only amused by the obvious observation. Daemon had known who Alyssa was to him, yet he never really thought of her as his sister. Viserys would oft dote on her, but to him, she would feel like a stranger. Someone, who preferred to ride on her dragon, someone who had loathed to be in court, who rather preferred to travel than be stuck in one place.
"Looks like Alicent and her greens have certainly done a work on you, sweet aunt," Daemon jested.
Alyssa had a mischievous smile on her face, "or rather a knight," she suggested.
Gael glared at her daughter, "someone should wash your mouth with soap."
Daemon quietly watched that exchange and he was growing rather weary remaining in one place, "I am sure the knights of the realm would be driven mad by you sweet aunt. Alas, I have to bid to some of my duties before I am feasted by my beloved brother."
He stood up and placed a kiss on her cheek. He did the same to Alyssa as well who inquired if he was visiting the city. Daemon lied and told her that he intends to visit the training yard. Whether his half-sister believed him or not, he cared not.
--
"Is that Daemon?" Luthor Largent called out. He was serving as a captain of the Iron Gate, the last time he had been in the capital. Even now, his position had been more or less the same. Since then, it would appear he was more or less in the same position. The only difference was that he was now serving as a captain of Dragon Gate.
He had donned his mail armor and the gold cloak that would shine bright on a bright day appeared rather dull in the tavern that he was brought to. Daemon himself had worn rather dull boiled leather and a ringmail. He had worn a helm over to cover his face. Though his silver hair still spilled from the sides. He had arrived at his old haunt as the day was edging to the evening.
The tavern he was present at was filled with patrons enjoying and having a drink. Few merchants were talking quietly while few men of City Watch were laughing and talking. "Luthor, you sour old goat," Daemon called him out. Luthor stood up and embraced him. He still had the same dour smile and smelled of wine and bacon. The men of City Watch cheered for him. They had still remembered their prince.
"Wine for our prince," Ser Luthor called out.
And within a few short moments, he was holding onto a cup of sour wine. He could taste the lemon in it. It was still the same taste that had been all those times ago.
"Wine for everyone here," Daemon called out and he received a loud cheer for that.
As Daemon took a sip and he looked around. Flea Bottom still stank of the shit and fish. The tavern that he was at was still the same. It lay in the depths of Flea Bottom. Returning here, brought old memories of him having a drink in one hand and a maid in the other. The thought of maids brought his head back to Mysaria. Ever since her ship had been attacked, she had found her way back to Lys. However, she had returned to the capital two years ago and had run a pleasure house at the Street of Silk. The loss of his child had made them distant, but she had always remained loyal to him.
"The last I heard, you were waging war and conquering Stepstones with the Sea Snake," Luthor took a sip and gulped it down, "and you had become its King."
"And now here I am," Daemon completed. "I grew bored with that spit of the land if I was being honest. Plus, I had heard that my son was traveling South from his Wintery keep. It was past time I had made peace with my brother."
It was not entirely the truth. He had not deigned to join Gaemon who was visiting Viserys. In truth, when he had returned to King's Landing. He did not care about Viserys nor had he forgotten the bitter words he had shared when the last they had argued at the base of the throne room. He had not returned to the capital for Viserys and his peace, nor had he returned for his friends. Truthfully, he had not even cared about Gael and his daughter either. Rather, it was for his son that he had returned. His son and his niece. As he had won his kingdom and claimed the crown of Stepstones, he realized that his will and his ambitions can only be fulfilled by his son and his niece. It was for them he had returned.
"Commander," Luthor stared at him as if he could sense his ambitions, "had I been any other man, I would have believed that white lie of yours."
Ser Petyr stepped in, "it is that ugly throne that our prince here dreams off."
He looked at the pimpled man who interrupted him. He was named Petyr Pimple behind the back was a man of low birth. A strong man and a brute, he had risen among the ranks and made a fortune for himself. Yet the fortune had dwindled from what he recalled. The man was a gambler as well and when it had come to gambling, he had lost more oft than he won.
"Were this seven years ago, there might have been a speck of truth to it." Daemon took a sip, "but, the war and bloodshed have taught me a thing or two and given me what I have yearned to look for."
"And what would that be?" a voice called from behind. Daemon turned and smiled; it was that of Ser Axell Tarly. He was a third son to the second son of the present Lord Tarly. Considering how low the man stood in the line for lordship. He sought out opportunities in other places. He had arrived at King's Landing just for that. Daemon had liked his sense of humor and jovial nature.
Daemon shook his hand, "it gave me perspective."
Tarly laughed at that, "my prince has some wisdom. Not even King can resist the Realm's Delight, as the bards would like to call her."
Tarly had the sense of it and he let him speak and make his presumptions. He had a son and a worthy heir and Rhaenyra was precious to Viserys. He wanted to rule the seven kingdoms and in truth, it was something that he had still desired. However, looking at Gaemon, he had realized that he could do just that through him. Daemon had not missed the looks she had been throwing over her son and while they were rather subtle, it was just the right place to start with.
He shook his head and turned towards his friends, "my brother has his delight and I have my own. Gods have made quite a poetry, no?"
Gaemon
Red Keep – 112 AC
Gaemon looked himself in the mirror once more and turned around. He was glad that neither Rogar nor Roddy were present. They would have mocked me mercilessly for my efforts to appear well-kempt and clean, Gaemon thought. Well, not for his cleanliness, but rather the effort that he was undertaking to appear as so.
Nevertheless, he eyed himself in the mirror to check his appearance. He had worn the finest velvet tunic black in color. The buttons were gold in coloring as is intricate as was the weavings of the golden dragon that was weaved throughout his shoulders up to his chest. It was the finest piece of clothing Gaemon had worn for some time. During his time in Moat Cailin or other Northern houses, he had worn warmer clothing which was comprised of a leather tunic with a doublet over it and a warm fur cloak to keep him warm.
However, as he descended from the Neck, his clothing changed from leather to velvet and silk. Gaemon would not confess it, but ever since he had arrived at King's Landing, there had been a lingering sense of nervousness. When he entered the King's court, he had seen the eyes of the court looking at him. Some with contempt, some with curiosity, and others with disdain. He was oblivious to it when he was a boy, but now the age and the burdens of lordship had given me a better understanding of hateful and skeptical glares.
By the seven, at times, he has even suffered those looks from Northern lords. His decision to grant protection to the wildlings was one of the sources of disapproval. Gaemon had cared not, they were able fighting men and had sworn their oaths to him in front of the weirwood tree. Though Gaemon had instructed his master-of-arms to be watchful of them and divide them amongst different captains. He had further commanded lord Reed to keep them away from the castle's weaknesses. Their castle walls were up and the enemies who wished ill from the South would find North to be nigh impregnable. While the south was protected, the North still had underlying weaknesses. The walls were being erected but the grounds had been too soft because of the rains. He was ten when colder weather came in and helped harden the grounds where the foundations were laid.
I ought to thank Archmaester Vaegon for that, Gaemon thought bitterly.
The thought of Vaegon angered him. Now in retrospect, Gaemon had to admit he had acted a tad reckless.
He walked towards King's solar with conviction. When he came upon the door, it was guarded by two of the Kingsguard, the twin brothers, Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk. He went forward to open the door, but the knights dared to stop him.
"His grace is acquainted," one of the twins said gruffly.
Gaemon glared at the two knights and he saw the look of disdain that they had. Unlike Ser Steffon, these had seemed to have forgotten who he was.
"If I were you sers, I would move out of my way," Gaemon spoke in a low but threatening tone.
"You may wait for his audience, once his grace has completed their business," Ser Arryk spoke. Alyssa had once told him the difference between Arryk and Erryk. Arryk was the one that had a mole on the right side of his eyes. To untrained eyes, it would not be as visible but Gaemon could spot the difference. Besides, compared to his brother, Arryk Cargyll appeared to be sourer-faced.
Gaemon composed himself and smiled, "very well, you may keep me waiting. However, ask yourselves these my good knights. Should my father come to hear that his son was denied entry? A royal prince, nonetheless, do you think those cloaks of yours would be shield enough."
He had to commend his father. The name of Daemon Targaryen inspired fear in the eyes of many. He was certain that the sight of Caraxes landing on the tourney grounds would have made anyone shat his pants.
"Let the prince in brother," Ser Erryk responded. He was uneasy but it would appear that he had more sense. "I am certain his grace would not mind his nephew giving him a visit."
Ser Arryk grumbled something but opened the door. Gaemon nodded at them and gave them a victorious grin as he entered the solar. He had to admit, not much had changed in his solar since the last time he had visited his uncle.
King Viserys Targaryen was seated in his ornate chair as he listened to Archmaester Vaegon as Gaemon entered the chambers. When he had first seen his uncle, he was surprised by how plump and fat he had grown to be. Despite that, he still had possessed an easy smile and genial nature. When he arrived at the Red Keep, he had greeted Gaemon as if he was his long-lost son. He had embraced him and kissed him on the cheeks. The day before the tourney, he had even inquired about his scars and had demanded to hear all of his stories in the North.
"Uncle," he had called out. His uncle had been surprised to see him enter as was Vaegon who frowned at his interruption.
Times had changed, as had his uncle in his appearance, yet his nature was still the same. "Forgive my intrusion, but I could not wait to show you the sword that kepa had given me."
Gaemon had made himself sound like a wondrous child and he could tell that the king was intrigued by it as well.
"Child, I was talking to the king," Vaegon spoke gritting his teeth. Gaemon ignored and captivated his uncle by showing him the Valyrian Steel sword.
In the end, Gaemon spoke, "I believe Archmaester Vaegon was confiding about the Neck." His uncle Viserys seemed oblivious to how Gaemon was aware of the news. Vaegon had narrowed his gaze at that.
"Yes, yes," Viserys said, "something about some medicines."
Gaemon looked at Archmaester with a sly smile, "oh yes, I have spoken to Lord Reed regarding this matter. I was surprised that Archmaester ought to see fit to disturb your person regarding this."
At that Vaegon was surprised, he did not doubt that the archmaester expected Gaemon to rage and be brusque regarding this matter. If Gaemon was being honest he had thought to be more abrasive as well. Yet as he made way, he remembered something his father had said when he was at Dragonstone. "Never show your rage to those who would use it against you."
His soft words were ultimately able to derail Vaegon's intentions to raze through the forest. Gaemon was able to implore his king, "those lands are sacred to my men uncle. If I were to raze it for the industry, then I would lose a place in their heart." He had appeared sad and almost teary. His voice was soft, but there was still some steel that showed no weakness. Vaegon could see his manipulation and in the end, could do naught for his uncle's heart was made up.
Gaemon smiled at the trick that he had pulled. He looked over the gift that he had brought for Rhaenyra. It was a small box made out of white weirwood with gold studs and a handle. He walked towards the door, content with his accomplishment. His rooms were in Maegor's Holdfast, a castle within a castle and he was glad that he did not require to journey to the other side towards the Great Hall. The feast was being held at Queen's ballroom.
As he made his way to his solar, he found his cousin Cregan looking up at the old Myrish tapestry that hung above.
"Coz," Gaemon called him out amusingly. Cregan looked at him and his eyes widened. He had always admired Gaemon no matter what he did. After all, when Cregan was a young babe, it was he who looked after his young cousin. Lord Rickon would travel, Bennard and Lady Gilliane would often tend to the court at Winterfell. In the end, it would be Gaemon with whom Cregan would spend most of his time.
When he left, lady Gilliane had written how Cregan had missed Gaems. Cregan eyed him up and down and was surprised to see him dressed such fine.
"You look like a southerner," he exclaimed in his squeaky voice. For a child, he was rather blunt with his words. Oftentimes, Gaemon had to chide with him to show subtlety. Had Septa Noelle been around, she would have had his hide, whether or not he was the heir of Winterfell.
Gaemon chuckled and ruffled his hair, "we are in south coz, we ought to be like them when we are around them."
His cousin scoffed, "father says, that a Northman does not sacrifice their way for anything."
"If that were so, then why did they give up the custom of First Night at the behest of Queen Alysanne?" Gaemon mused.
Cregan furrowed his brows, "because it was wrong," he reasoned.
At that, Gaemon chuckled, "it was not wrong to our ancestors until Queen Alysanne decreed as such." He held Cregan's face, "just because, we are wearing the Southron clothes and speak in their manner does not mean that we are giving up on who we are."
Cregan gulped and nodded, Gaemon smiled at him and stood up, "come, best we get to the feast before the Ruin eats everything."
His cousin laughed and jumped off his seat to follow him. He took along the box and saw that his cousin was glancing at it with curiosity. Gaemon smirked and winked, "it is a gift, keep it to yourself, would you?"
The Stark men surrounded him as they followed their heir and himself. As Gaemon made his way towards the Queen's Ballroom, he heard the sounds of laughter and cheer coming from the inside. The cooks and maids were hurrying in and out with food and drinks and as Gaemon entered, he spotted everyone seated. His father was smiling as he spotted Gaemon enter, Alyssa was whispering something to one of the noblewomen. Muna Gael had seemed to be commanding servants as she looked at everyone. She had appeared weary but her gaze was like that of a hawk.
Finally, his eyes landed upon Rhaenyra. She was seated to the right of her father nibbling on a morsel pie. Her hair shone silver-gold, brushed and open. Her eyes are purple and big as she spoke with her father. Her gown was adorned in black and velvet shining. Her sleeves covered her shoulders but left her pale hands open. The Myrish laces were designed across her waist and her chest. His uncle VIserys was dressed in red and his Hightower wife was dressed in green. It was a curious observation to find Rhaenyra and her followers to be dressed in black while the Hightower woman was dressed in Green. It was as if, there was a division in the court.
All his thinking ceased as he felt Rhaenyra looking at him. Her eyes were gleaming with happiness as she found him and her pouty pink lips were curled up as she gazed at him. Gaemon clutched onto the box as he made his way towards them and let the feast commence.
--
The halls of Maegor's holdfast were filled with laughter as Gaemon had his arm wrapped with Rhaenyra's elbow. Gaemon was done with the feast, it was a splendid thing. He held the box in his right hand. She had inquired what it was, but Gaemon told her that he would show her later. The food had been served, pies, bacon, ham, and plenty more were served. The Arbor Red tasted of grapes and sweetness, yet Rhaenyra found it to be bitter. It amused how set she had been in avoiding the wine. When Gaemon shared that observation with her, she scowled.
Gaemon suspected her displeasure for Arbor Red and when she confided with him, he merely laughed it off. "It is just a wine," he had said as he picked up a cup and drank it.
"If we put our anger out on it, then pour wine would be chastened by it," he japed.
After a few cups, they were now staggering back to her chambers. "You should have seen Alicent then, father had dismissed Ser Otto and she looked at him as if she licked a sour lemon," she giggled, her face was flushed. She smelled like lavender and strawberry as she held him closer. Gaemon had lost memory of many things but still, he recalled how his cousin had smelled.
"You know who she reminds me of?" Gaemon asked as he looked forward.
"Hmm, what?" she looked at him amusingly.
Gaemon smirked, "she reminds me of a lizard lion."
"A lizard lion," she mused.
He gave his cousin a mirthful look, "there used to be a lizard lion living south by the Moat who would oft find his way by Vermithor's haunt and steal the meat from him when he would sleep. I would often see him from my windows, he would hiss at Vermithor whenever he would retreat. A curious thing to see a little lizard act like a dragon when he was sleeping."
Rhaenyra chuckled at that, "so is that what Alicent is? This lizard lion hmm?"
"I would hope not, Vermithor ate him when he found out. Besides, we would not want our beloved queen to be eaten by a dragon now, would we?" Gaemon gave his cousin a mischievous smile which caused Rhaenyra to giggle. "No, I was saying that Alicent reminds me of the hissing of the lizard lion. The look it would give Vermithor is the same scowling look that I saw on the face of our queen. "
His cousin let out an unladylike snort at that. Gaemon stopped and turned to face Rhaenyra. "I promised you, your gift before and I believe this is a time fit to give you."
Rhaenyra seemed to be excited about the prospect. Her eyes landed upon the weirwood box. He unlatched the box and opened it. His cousin gasped at the sight, her eyes were glassy, "when we were young, father told me about how he had crowned mother with a crown of winter roses. It is a rare flower that grows only in Winterfell. You were always awed by that tale and I had sworn you that I would give you a crown of roses. Do you remember?" Gaemon asked her softly.
"I do," Rhaenyra answered, looking at the crown with awe. She then gazed up at him, "it has a sweet smell to it."
"I know," Gaemon said, she lifted the crown and it was surprising to see that during his travels, it had not spoiled. He knelt and placed the box down and gently took the crown from her and placed it over her silver-gold hair. "It is not a gemmed tiara that you wear usually, it is not something you could wear on every occasion."
Before he could give her any further explanations, she interrupted him by kissing him on his cheeks at first and then on his lips. He had to admit, it was a sweet feeling and it reminded him of his farewell to her at Dragonstone years ago.
"It is beautiful," Rhaenyra said in a sweet tone. Gaemon was too mesmerized as he looked at her. They were about to kiss again, but he heard the sound of an armored man approaching.
Rhaenyra picked up the box and placed the crown inside it, "this gift will be our secret, Gaems."
"Princess," a voice called out. Gaemon turned to see the man and it was none other than Ser Criston Cole. "I was searching for you."
"Well, your search has ended ser. I was just about to wish my cousin a sweet sleep," Rhaenyra informed him. She embraced him and Gaemon noticed envy in Ser Criston's gaze. "Meet me at Dragonpit at evenfall, tomorrow," she whispered and kissed him on his cheek.
Gaemon nodded feeling giddy at the notion as his cousin made her way towards her chamber. Ser Criston passed by him giving him a surprisingly scowling look. Gaemon chuckled as he went towards his chambers with the hopes of tomorrow coming soon.
Notes:
Next update will be for Flames of Winter.
Chapter 15 - tease
Rhaenyra looked at her cousin as Vermithor took in the air. She smirked and sent a silent command to Syrax to do the same. The songs of Vermithor and Syrax must have been heard throughout King's Landing, yet Rhaenyra had cared not as she flew with her cousin at her right.
House Velaryon makes their presence known in the court of Red Keep.
Gaemon and Rhaenyra take a flight as they grow closer.
Note 2/26- Damn didn't realize that a canal would be such a cringe topic. Rest assured I don't intend to use it in this story now.