Chapter 13: High
A new set of lords and ladies feasted at the high table as had become custom this past sennight. Tonight, the king toasted with Lords Deklan Darklyn, Dylar Wendwater, the Tully brothers, Steffon Baratheon, and the highborn women accompanying them.
His cousin Kiren was among their number, her dress a riot of color that drew eyes to wherever her hands went. The body was Velaryon aquamarine with cuffs of red or green at either hand.
'A true lady makes fashion, and lets others follow,' Aunt Eunice liked to say. Kiren must have taken those words to heart in the eleven months she'd been away from Driftmark.
Eleven months since Lelouch put the idea in her head to leave home for their Wendwater kin, to leave her father. That Adamm Velaryon was now in the clutches of their enemies… did she hate him for it? If she did, is she not in the right twice over? Lelouch thought, pushing away his plate. He had conspired to part her from her father, then doomed Uncle Adamm's attack on the port of Myr when together they might have succeeded.
Would Kiren forgive him if she never saw her father again? So quick and unexpected was their parting that not even an abrupt farewell had passed between father and daughter.
There had been no need at the time, I thought. She could be in Driftmark in days if she wished it. His stomach churned at the thought. What a great fool I was, so certain that my plan could not go awry.
"Lord Baratheon left for Braavos this morning," Tywin said beside him. The Lannister served himself a slice of venison paired with bayleaf, marjoram, and a sauce of crushed berries. "That's why Steffon is sitting with the king instead of with us."
It was just as well. Baratheon had never quite forgiven Lelouch for his appalling treatment of Princess Rhaella. "You'll be sitting up there soon enough. I've heard the westerland host is not far now," Lelouch said, tearing his eyes from Kiren.
"Two days away, by my reckoning," Tywin said. "My uncle Jason leads a thousand knight and ten times that in men-at-arms."
"He is Lady Joanna's father, isn't he?" Lelouch asked, eyes going to the girl seated across the hall. Joanna Lannister was beautiful in a classically westerland sense, with features as rich as their land: emerald eyes, golden hair, and alabaster skin. Small wonder Aerys favored her so.
"Yes. A shame the company coming with him though." Tywin scowled. "Roger Reyne, Reynard Reyne, Emmon Frey—"
"A Frey?"
"My good-brother," he spat. "A dullard foisted upon my sister when she was but seven namedays old."
Lelouch frowned, turning to Tywin. "Truly? At so young an age?" Betrothals so young were not unheard of, but certainly uncommon.
"She is wedded, but not yet bedded, though that will change soon enough after this war is done with."
"It is a war. People die, and I do not expect a man with an epithet like 'Monstruous' to care for ransom," Lelouch mused.
Tywin raised his golden chalice high. "May the Seven be so merciful."
Lelouch clinked his glass against Tywin's with his good hand, and they drank deep. The blood red Dornish strongwine was not sweet enough to cover the bitterness on his tongue.
He studied the high table once more. Lord Darklyn seemed to be thanking the king; his lord father was frowning. A charter for Duskendale would threaten the trade passing through Driftmark, while command of the crownland levies was an honor his father had been trying to secure for Lord Wendwater on the condition that Lelouch might be given a small command.
Some eighteen thousand men now camped outside King's Landing, drawn from a hundred lords of the crownlands, stormlands, and riverlands. Lelouch's single victory, no matter how glorious, was not likely to win him more swords beyond those already sworn to Driftmark.
Had Lord Dylar been present for the Battle of Seafyre, credit could be passed to him and he might now have the acclaim to direct the crownland levies in the king's stead. It was not to be though. The Wendwater levies could not be counted among the largest in the crownlands, and numbers mattered greatly in the cold political calculus of war.
Among the coalition Lelouch had used to smash his enemies at Bloodstone, the Lord of Waterflow Keep offered but six hundred men—fewer than even the Myrish auxiliaries. That he sent any men was generous of him in truth, for Uncle Adamm's indiscretions were indiscrete. Perhaps Lord Dylar had not wished others to think marriage with his kin to be worthless, though some might forgive him that for the dishonor done to Aunt Eunice.
Whatever Lord Dylar's reasons mattered for naught now. Dark wings had flown from King's Landing calling the banners to war, and Velaryon retribution was subsumed into the larger struggles of royalty and religion.
"Good evening, Lord Tywin, Lord Lelouch," came a husky voice.
"How fares you this night, Princess Myriah," Tywin answered the Martell heiress.
She looked quite fetching for a woman who'd bore three children. Her smooth, olive skin was bare at her shoulders, uncovered by her spring green dress—a thing of fine silk from the far east. It served to heighten the exotic air about her. Had she not been a daughter of Dorne such attire might cause scandal rather than merely raising brows.
"It would be much improved after a dance." Princess Myriah smiled, eyes darting towards Lelouch even as her hand extended to Tywin.
"I would be honored, Princess," Tywin said, leading her towards Aerys and his cousin on the floor. Princess Myriah was sensual grace in motion, spinning to the sound of flute and pipes and harp that soon the attention of every man in the hall was on her.
Lady Joanna dropped into the now empty seat beside Lelouch, replacing his golden-haired companion too quickly to not be planned. "I haven't seen much of you since you arrived, Lord Lelouch. I was sadly mistaken that a war hero, on the eve of rebellion, does not in fact spend his days at the training yards."
Lelouch held up his hand. "Ser Darry has exiled me from his yard until my wound is better healed."
"Ah, the dashing hero's injury from his heroic showdown against Maelys the Monstruous." There was a quirk to her smile. "Does it hurt much?"
"Considerably more after Bloodstone. Grandmaester Pycelle said I ought not use my hand for at least another month or risk aggravating my injury."
Her eyes considered him. "What is it you get up to then? Surely there must be more to Lelouch Velaryon's day than seeking Princess Rhaella's hand."
"I'm sorry to disappoint," Lelouch said. "Why is it you're here?"
She pouted. "Do you dislike my company? Or perhaps…" She put a finger to the side of her lip. "Your cousin Donnall tells me you've a horse named Seamoke. Do you prefer riding?"
Lelouch blinked. The only Seasmoke with stories to speak of was a dragon his great grandfather's great grandfather had ridden before the Dance. According to Mushroom's Testimony, Laenor sought the company of handsome men, enjoyed them more than was appropriate. Was she implying what he thought she was? "I am better with a bow and a target to hit, but best with a book in hand."
"Ah, but the stories I've heard about Seasmoke, and you do spend an awful lot of time with Prince Aerys. Some might say you enjoy his presence more than Princess Rhaella's," she said, wearing a mask of innocence. "He's handsome enough I suppose."
"Fear not, I shan't snatch His Grace from your claws," Lelouch drawled.
Joanna feigned surprise well. "Whatever do you mean?"
"I've no designs on Aerys, or replacing my sister at court," he continued.
Her face fell. "I never got a chance to see Alarra again after…" she said. "Lord Jaron shipped her back to Driftmark so quickly."
"He felt it best for her to be among kin." Lelouch's throat felt dry and heavy.
She seemed to hesitate. "Do you think Alarra would like it if I wrote to her?"
Lelouch glanced at Kiren being twirled and brought close to Aerys' chest. "I believe she'd welcome it. I imagine it feels lonely on our island nowadays, with all of us away from home." Lelouch shifted guiltily. "If you'd like, I could deliver a letter for you. I mean to return to Driftmark before the campaign begins."
"When might that be?" Joanna asked.
"With luck, we will begin landing in Essos in a month's time."
Joanna frowned. "The Northern host is furthest from us, and Tywin says even they will be here within the fortnight."
"The king's health keeps him from joining the campaign, and that leaves the Hand as the only man whom the Lords Paramount will take orders from." His cup of Dornish sweetened with each sip. "A ship to and from Braavos will take the better part of three weeks. Without a unifying commander, we will not be a great army, but a coalition of smaller ones."
"Could Prince Aerys not lead?" Joanna asked.
"If he had a few more years, or been in any battles to speak of, but His Grace is barely a man grown," Lelouch said. Even had the king commanded it, the lords would test Aerys at every turn. "King Jaehaerys is wise enough not to gamble with his throne at stake."
'Give no order men will not follow.'
Joanna spread her fan wide open with a sharp flick of her wrist. "You are no older than Aerys, yet His Grace gave you command for the Battle of Seafyre."
"His Grace let me command, he did not give me command," Lelouch corrected.
"Is there a distinction?" Joanna asked.
"Two important ones. The men I led already had good reason to follow me after I delivered them from defeat at Myr. The risk too was not so great. Had I failed or fallen at Bloodstone, the cause of House Targaryen would not be so deeply wounded. But should either fate befall Prince Aerys, the damage it would do could spell catastrophe."
Joanna ceased her fanning. "Would it not be safer for him to stay in King's Landing then? Why must he insist on joining the army."
"Because he is, as you supposed, handsome enough," Lelouch said.
She glared.
"I do not mock." He showed her his palms. "Aerys is useful as a figure to rally the lords behind, a show of who it is they fight for. But a figure to rally behind is not the same as a man men trust with campaign. Lord Baratheon and Prince Aerys each have their role to play."
"I've asked knights, maesters, and septons these same questions, and none of them could give me an answer half as well-thought as yours," Joanna said. "I see why Aerys thinks so highly of you."
"I'm touched to hear such kind words about myself."
"This has been delightful. We ought to speak more often, my lord," Joanna said as Aerys approached with Kiren on his arm. "Give your sister my best?"
"I will, my lady," Lelouch said.
Aerys nodded to him as he seated Kiren. "Joanna, might you honor me with a dance?" he asked.
"Of course, Prince Aerys," Joanna said with a smile, letting Aerys pull her to her feet. The new tune the musicians played had a faster rhythm to it, and introduced both drum and lyre to its melody.
Lelouch and Kiren watched the furor of sound and steps around them in silence. His throat was parched and he reached for the pitcher of wine, pausing as Kiren's hand rested on top of his.
"You're injured," she chided, pouring for him. "You've been avoiding me since I arrived. Have you not missed me at all?"
He downed half his cup in a single gulp. "I didn't know what to say," Lelouch said honestly.
"A 'hello' would have been nice," Kiren said.
"Your father—"
"I know," Kiren said with a soft smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Haven't I told you before that you're broody enough for two people?"
"Many times," Lelouch said. "I'm sorry. I couldn't save him. If I had acted different, had I been better—"
She clutched his arm, cutting off his words. "What ifs and should haves, there's no sense to that sort of talk. Do you think we'll win? Tell me that instead."
Lelouch emptied his cup and stared into it. "We will not lose," he said after a moment. "To seize the Iron Throne, Blackfyre must control the seas to have a chance at landing unopposed, but the numbers do not favor him especially with the failure to take Lys."
The ships between Greyjoy and Redwyne alone was nearly enough to match the Band of Nine's remaining strength at sea. Add to that the Royal Fleet, Driftmark, the Myrish exiles, and the lesser fleets at Lannisport, Gulltown, White Harbor, Oldtown, and Sunspear... "At full muster, we would have twice the Band of Nine's ships and ten times their swords."
"If the situation is as poor as you say for Maelys, then why has he chosen to rebel now?"
"Blackfyre knows we will seek him out in Essos. His men are well-armed, and well-trained. He has two Free Cities backing him, and he will be fighting on land he knows. And our full might cannot be brought against him across the Narrow Sea, not right away. He will offer battle, and try to pick us apart piecemeal."
"What of Father?" Kiren asked.
"As best as we know, still imprisoned in Myr by Lashare," Lelouch said. "I'll do whatever it takes to bring Uncle Adamm back."
Kiren's nails dug into his arm. "Swear it. Swear there will be no peace until this insult is answered in full."
"May the Stranger deal with me ever so severely if I leave this work half-done," Lelouch vowed. "There will be no peace between me and those who wronged our family."
-ZeroRequiem-
With the westerland lords and knights of the Vale came an equal number of wagons and carriages, far too many to be carrying only provisions for campaign. Daughters, sisters, nieces, and mothers flooded the Red Keep. King Jaehaerys welcomed the blushing maidens and their minders, one and all; armed with glitter and bodice and smiles that would cut into hearts deeper than any castle-forged steel.
It was only to be expected with Aerys still unspoken for despite Joanna's best efforts. For one of their blood to bear the next crown prince would be the great prize of the game, but there were many other favorable matches to be had. An assembly of heirs to great houses and future lords such as this came once in a lifetime.
War brought opportunity to lords and ladies both.
Lelouch saw little of Rhaella in the following days as a swarm of suitors sought her out. Most dangerous to their ambitions, his father shared, were Arryn, Reyne, and Yronwood.
"Not Tywin?" Joanna asked.
"Tywin was King Aegon's cupbearer for two years, and a squire for four. Yet in months Ser Bonifer had earned a better claim to Her Grace's affections," Lelouch said to Joanna as they navigated the muddy trails of the tent city outside King's Landing. "One can only conclude Tywin has no interest in pursuing Princess Rhaella's hand." Or that she does not favor him.
She smirked. "I thought love has nothing to do with marriage?"
"Princess Rhaella does not share my philosophy," Lelouch said.
"A match might still be arranged if the king wishes it," Joanna said, tucking a strand of gold behind her ear.
"The king is wise, so I do not think it likely."
Joanna narrowed her eyes. "Is the heir of Casterly Rock and the westerlands not worthy of Rhaella's hand?"
"He is, but only one match is needed to bring the westerlands into the fold," Lelouch said evenly, staying her wrath. "When the dust settles, Prince Aerys will choose you to be his queen."
She looked away quickly. "Has His Grace mentioned something to you?"
"No," he admitted, grinning as she turned to glare at him, still flushed, "but I do have eyes and ears, same as anyone else. You are close kin to his good friend Tywin, which by itself would be enough. That Aerys favors you greatly on your own merits? Jayne Bracken might be a beauty, and Arwen Arryn Lord Jon's niece, but how can either of them compare to you?"
"There are other women—"
Faint shouts could be heard in the distance. A brawl, no doubt, given the number of fighting men crammed into this sliver of land outside King's Landing. "Let us not insult your or mine wits with the notion that the other women might be more than passing fancy."
"I've learned humility is a look which suits me," Joanna said smugly, placing a hand on her hip.
Lelouch snorted. "False humility."
"No less true than anything said in this city."
The ladies with Princess Rhaella tittered some feet ahead of them. "My father discounts Oswell Whent too early, I think," Lelouch said, nodding at the knight distinguished by his helmet with the black bat emblazoned.
"The second son of Lord Whent?" Joanna asked. "He is not unpleasant to look at, but he's no Aerys. What is it you see in him?"
"The man's wicked with a sword. He faced two knights in a spar this morning and won. I would not enjoy being his enemy."
Joanna wagged her brows suggestively. "My lord! Are you suggesting Princess Rhaella will let him practice his swordplay on her? That it might win her over?"
"You can do better than that," Lelouch said, wrinkling his nose. Their party was brought to a halt by a broken down wagon blocking the path. "This camp is a mess. I dread to think of its state when Lord Tyrell arrives."
"He should be here soon, shouldn't he?" Joanna said, a look of worry crossing her face.
"In six days along with the Dornish too," Lelouch answered. "Fret not, my lady. I've heard no whispers of the Maiden made flesh in any Dornishwoman or Reach daughter, nor spotted any great beauties so far that eclipse your own."
"Maelys Blackfyre has a merchant they call the Silvertongue, but if they knew of you, Lord Lelouch, they'd bestow on you the sobriquet instead." There was a glint in her eye. "Take care that others do not mistake our friendship for courtship."
"And displease my father? I wouldn't dream of it."
The blockage was finally dealt with by a crew of men with Marbrand colors. They reached Lord Jason's tent not long after. It was a rich and impractical affair with its tapestries and potteries more at home in a lordly castle. Should this host fall into disarray, it would be first pickings for looters. Why Joanna's father thought to bring a table of heavy oak and several suits of armor for display was beyond him.
It made for a fine place for the lords to meet though, and explained why Lord Greyjoy and his own father sat with Lord Jason. No doubt discussing the details of the upcoming campaign, and where the armies might land in Essos.
Joanna left his side to embrace Lord Jason after Princess Rhaella's extensive entourage had paid their courtesies.
Two girls peeled themselves from Rhaella to stand at either side of Lelouch. Cynthea Waynwood and Mya Royce if he recalled correctly. Eyes shifting between the girls, Lelouch said, "My ladies, is there something I can do for you?"
They giggled.
"We've heard so much about you, Lord Velaryon," Cynthea said, flitting her lashes.
"The hero of Seafyre," Mya followed up, entwining her arm with his. Lelouch was keenly aware that the back of his hand was brushing against her chest, and that the girl did not seem to mind. "You simply must tell us all about it."
"Lelouch."
He jerked his head away. "Father?"
"Outside. Now." Father stormed out the tent, his face a tight mask. He continued to walk until they were some distance from Lord Jason's tent.
This was going to be one of those conversations. "What's this about?" Lelouch asked.
"You will not stick your cock in any of these women, understand?" Father hissed. "They are not foreign harlots like that merchant's daughter or the green-haired wench. I will not suffer you to get a highborn lady with child, and be roped into marriage!"
"Omorfia and Cici are not whores, nor have I 'stuck my cock' in either of them," Lelouch said.
Father snorted. "Of course they aren't. You just sneak off at godsforsaken hours to see them."
"I was discreet."
"Not discreet enough if I can figure out you've been going to Donnall's paid room at the inn along the Hook," Father said. "The boy takes after my brother after all."
You only know because none of my men would dare defy you, Lelouch thought. "They're not whores," Lelouch repeated with force. "Omorfia is Magister Zoutos' granddaughter and heir, while Cic—"
"—is a freed slave you've befriended. Yes, yes, so you've said before. Do you think because you've freed her, fed her, and housed her that she now let's you fuck her out of affection?"
This was getting him nowhere. "I haven't forgotten your wishes concerning Princess Rhaella."
"It's not your memory I worry about, but whether you intend to see my instructions through."
Lelouch frowned. "This is the first day since I arrived that I have not spent an hour besides Rhaella! Surely you can't fault me for that with how many men hang about her?"
Father gave him an exasperated look. "Is this how I raised you? To give up at the first sign of difficulty?"
"I have not given up," Lelouch shot back. "There is a method to my madness. Rhaella will tire of the others when she learns they are all the same. Hanging about her like some puppy will serve naught but paint me in the same light."
"If she doesn't tire of them?"
"Then I will have gambled and lost," Lelouch said.
"Yes and in the meantime you will court Lady Joanna. Or are Vale maidens more to your liking?" Father looked to the heavens. "Mother be merciful. Stick some teats in front of my son and all sense deserts him!"
"Lady Joanna is favored by the Crown Prince."
"Oh? Remember that do you? Good," Father said.
Lelouch crossed his arms. "We're just friends. Will you fault me for seeking better relations with House Lannister on the eve of war?"
"Just friends, ha! My own son thinks me a fool," Father said, leaning on his cane. "What of those Vale girls then? Have you any idea who they are?"
"Cynthea Waynwood and Mya Royce," Lelouch answered.
"Who is Lord Arryn's wife?"
"Jeyne Royce." The pieces clicked in Lelouch's head. "And Ronnel Arryn's good-brother is a Waynwood. You think them here to distract me, so that Ronnel Arryn might win Rhaella's hand."
"Perhaps there is hope for you after all," Jaron said. "I do not think it, I know it! Tread carefully, lest you take the future of our house down with you."
Lelouch's eyes narrowed into slits. "It would hardly matter how careful I tread. I am, after all, just a silly boy all sense deserts when confronted with a pair of teats."
"If the urge strikes you, go sleep with your Essosi whores then, or pay a woman on the Street of Silk. I care not," Father said.
That sounded like an excuse to go meet Cici whenever he felt like it.
"I understand," he said bitterly.
-ZeroRequiem-
The sole inn along the curving road between the Red Keep and Fishmonger's Square named Kepmann's Inn was better known as the Bend. The crescent of hardwood, white rock, and marble was built in fits and starts throughout its life. Its oldest section was four stories tall with turrets, a chimney, and annexes on either side inching closer towards the thoroughfare.
Lelouch entered the common room to warmth, and the heady smell of wine and herbs. Tomas Liddle stood by the counter closest to the kitchen door where a slow-roasted pig, skin crisp and slick with grease, was laid out.
"Liddle!" the mob of knights and killers chanted as the innkeep carved, banging their tankards to some unheard beat. "Liddle!"
It was of no difficulty spotting Cici's green hair or Omorfia's tangle of dark locks among this crowd, and Donnall was never far from them.
"Lelouch!" Donnall said, standing as he spotted his cousin. "You're earlier than usual. We were just about to have dinner. Is something wrong?"
"We ought to take our plates to the room. There's no privacy to be had here," Cici said.
They crossed the room to a flight of stairs, then went down the hall of the second floor. They entered and Donnall dropped the wood piece into the latch, barring the door.
Omorfia sat on the featherbed, crossing one unblemished leg over the other as she balanced a plate on her knee. "Have you eaten? If you're hungry" —she licked her lips— "I could share my plate with you."
Lelouch turned to Cici. "I knew I shouldn't have left her with you here."
"We were speaking with Khamaya, a madame on the Street of Silk, earlier today," Cici said. "She might have picked up a trick or two."
Omorfia grinned, shifting in her lace dress. "What can I say? I'm a quick study."
"What business did you have there?" Lelouch asked.
"Market research," Omorfia said before chewing on a piece of meat. "Your cousin seemed to enjoy it."
Donnall coughed violently, chugging down his cup of wine.
"Are you opening a brothel?" Lelouch asked.
"Nothing so crass," Omorfia said. "I'm Myrish, not Lyseni."
He did not miss the look shared between the Myrish heiress and the witch even as Donnall protested his purity. "You're opening a pizza shop."
"The first of many," Cici said, stretching her arms wide. "This world shall come to love it, if I have to uplift them into civility one city at a time."
"I'm sorry, pizza?" Omorfia asked.
"Myrish pies," Lelouch said.
"I've not heard anyone name them that before." Omorfia frowned. "It does have a nice ring to it for a made up word. Pizza," she repeated, savoring the feel of the word.
"Less of a mouthful than Myrish pies at least," Donnall said, taking out his sword and a whetstone. "Do you know when the army shall depart? It's dull watching these two gallivant about the city."
"You certainly weren't bored this morning, or watching us at all for that matter, but worry not." Cici said, before turning to Lelouch. "We're leaving soon, aren't we?"
"We'll be boarding Seafyre for Driftmark a day after the Hightowers arrive," Lelouch said.
Donnall stopped to look up. "We're leaving before the army? What of your father's plans to-"
"Your princess won't be marrying anyone so soon," Cici interjected. "It will be after the war to a suitor with the right lineage and victories, as a reward. Only if the crown prince dies will the king be forced to wed her early to secure his line. As for a greater command, I suppose your father hasn't had any luck on that front with so much of your family's strength at sea?"
"Correct," Lelouch said.
Omorfia stared at her.
"How did you know all that?" Donnall asked.
"The game remains the same no matter which society you end up in," Cici said, launching a cryptic smile at him. "Do you have a plan to seize power, Lelouch?"
Cici was sharp as ever. Lelouch smiled. "I cannot allow myself to be subsumed under a lesser lord or waste my men on a fool's task. The Golden Company is too disciplined a force not to treat seriously."
"Those always did make for the worst enemies," Cici mused. "The pizza can wait then. I'm going with you."
Donnall balked. "To war? That's no place for a woman."
"My people are going to war," Cici said. "As the mayor of the free Myrmen, I must go with them."
"Am I to be left by myself in this city then?" Omorfia crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"It will not be without purpose. I have a favor to ask of you, Omorfia," Lelouch said. "You speak with the local merchants oft, do you not?"
"When it suits me."
"There's not a peddler in the markets she doesn't know the name of," Donnall said.
Lelouch nodded to his cousin in thanks. "I have need of information, and there are few I can trust to carry this out."
"Trust me? We've only just met," Omorfia said, though the pleased twinge on her lips was unmistakable. "What is it you seek?"
"The alchemists must purchase their reagents from someone in this city. I want to know what they've been buying of late, from whom and where," Lelouch said.
"A heavy burden," she said solemnly. "Whatever for? Do you wish to discover their secrets? You would not be the first to try."
"They can rot with their secrets," Lelouch snarled. "If the damned fools are making more wildfire, I need to put a stop to it."
"Ah, but what do I get out of this? Such things won't come cheaply or easily," Omorfia said.
"A favor for a favor then?" Lelouch asked.
She smiled, her teeth all white and sharp. "A favor for a favor."