A.N. are below
IV
The East and The North
MAEGOR
About a third of a mile from the column of the khalasar he found a place where a bend in a brook had formed a deep pool. Reeds grew thick along its edge, and two large leafy trees presided over all. A rare gem within the Dothraki sea; a place where there was nothing but tall grass, an endless green ocean.
He tended his mare first. Sweet Mudbank was not as young or as strong as she used to be, but she was loyal, his most loyal companion there, actually. Maegor had been afraid that she wouldn't have been able to withstand their journey against all the Dothraki steeds, but the old mare had managed well enough so far. After that, he stripped and waded into the pool to wash away the day from his body.
Like all days, this day has been miserable. And his King was most to blame.
Viserys had summoned him and Ser Jorah the first hour on the morning to talk about war plans and promises.
"We will land in Sunspear and gather our men. When Doran Martell sees that I have taken his niece for wife, he will not hesitate to support my cause." He had proclaimed. "There, I'll make my claim known and soon Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy and other allies will follow."
"Your grace," Ser Jorah broke in, "House Tyrell shares blood ties with the Queen, and so does House Redwyne. The strength of Darry alone cannot bring the Riverlands together and Quellon Greyjoy's two sons remain hostages."
"The others will follow Darry once my army of screamers arrive."
"How do you hope to do so, your grace?" The northern knight's manner had been polite enough, "Taking forty thousand men to Westeros is no easy task?"
"Insolent northerner, you presume to doubt your King?"
By that point, he had sensed the need to jump into the discussion. "I am sure Ser Jorah meant no offence, only his counsel."
Viserys regarded him with distaste, then turned to Jorah again.
"I will hire sellsails in Qarth, obviously," Viserys sniffed.
"Your grace, you surely understand that those are costly expenses–"
"Gods be good, you are stupid as the bear of your coat of arms," Viserys cut him off, "Of course I am aware of the price, and of course I am aware how I will pay it." He had looked so smug then. "Now, as for today… You both will accompany me as we ride at the front of the khalasar."
"Are you certain, your grace? It might be more suitable to go in the back." Mormont suggested.
Was he mad? Why is he trying to provoke him? Maegor had wondered.
But Viserys just climb up his horse and left without saying a word. He was angry though, that much was plain to see.
Maegor turned to the northern knight, "Why did you have to do that? You are sworn to him. Viserys is your king; you owe him respect."
"Respect is earned, boy. It will do you good to remember that " Mormont replied and climbed up his grey charger. "If I was you I would go and check your King; he went north and we travel east today," he said as he left.
Afterwards, Maegor hop on Mudbank and rushed to his king, the mare galloping as fast as she could.
He found Viserys not a mile north from where they gathered; he had fallen from his horse into a shallow pool. He was drenched from head to boots, but that did not seem to thwart his anger. If anything, it fuelled it. When the king saw him, he gave him a wrothful look as if it had been all his fault to begin with.
"My king," Maegor said, careful with his words. "May I help you?"
But cautious as he was, Viserys would have none of it. "What does it look like?! You stupid oaf. Help me out of here!"
Maegor did as ordered and helped the king out of the pond.
"Seven hells…" Viserys cursed as he made his way besides his horse; a gorgeous black and white steed given by Khal Drogo. A flush was creeping up Viserys' neck, red as the dragon on his tunic. "This damn flat saddle."
"Would you like mine, your grace?" Maegor offered meekly. His saddle was made in Claw Isle most like. His uncle gave it to him years ago when he arrived there.
"I'll sooner ride bareback rather than having that filthy saddle of yours," he spat with venom. Before, he might have felt insulted, but Maegor have grown used to his king's character and manners; as rude as they were. Viserys climbed up to his saddle again, and again, he was facing the north.
"We travel east," he urged, "not north, your grace." Maegor added the last bit softly.
Viserys turned to look at him, still red, "I know!" He yelled. He spurred around with his horse. "Go away! I had no need for your presence!"
Maegor was taken aback. "But you said–"
"Never mind that!" Viserys interrupted. "Go to my wife!"
And so he did, as he had already done the several times every time Viserys lost his temper. It would have been a day like any other if he hadn't run into Daenerys.
Maegor sighed and leaned back, sinking into the pool. He wanting to forget the conversation he had with the girl.
She had called him Dragonknight, like one of the greatest knights to ever live. He thought of Ser Aemon Targaryen fighting bravely to defend the truth and the innocent. I am nothing like that…
"Dragonknight…" Maegor whispered as he floated in the pond feeling the guilt building up inside him. Liar she ought to have called him.
A fortnight ago Rhaenys commanded him to kill Doreah, the slave girl from Lys, because she believed (or beliefs) that her kingly husband is bedding her. She had been drunk, but that only made the issue worse. Years ago, Don had told him that a drunken tongue is truer than a sober one; drink made men bolder and less afraid of consequence. It was one of the lessons he would never forget.
That Lysene girl might die because of him. He knew, yet didn't mention anything to Daenerys. He was not a Dragonknight, he was a coward and a liar.
He washed himself; from head to heels, trying to take his mind away, he could not. Even as he dried himself with a cloth and with the help of the heat, he was not able to escape his thoughts. The guilt haunted him. Maegor put back his tunic and breeches and sat under one of the trees. He looked at the setting sun through the leaves of the tree.
"Ser Maegor," a voice suddenly called in a soft accent. "You missed the show."
It was the Myrish woman, the Lady Tateana.
Before Maegor could do anything the woman sat beside him. Too close for his liking; the closer she was, the easier it would be for her to notice him stealing glances at her.
"What show, my lady?" Maegor asked stiffly.
"Viserys'," Tateana said. Maegor could not tell if she said it with bitterness of mirth. "Our young Khaleesi took his horse from him. So you can imagine how mad he was when he arrived."
"What?!" He was taken aback. "What happened?"
"He woke the dragon, it seems." she said and laughed. A lovely sound, Maegor couldn't help but notice. "You must forgive my manners… I should not have laughed, not since our poor queen had to deal with that."
'That' he did not wish upon anyone, not even Rhaenys. "Is the queen…?"
"Drunk?" Tateana finished for him. He was going to asked if Rhaenys was well, though that worried him more.
"She drinks every time they fight, though, truth to be told, it is most of the time. Now she passed out recently because of it, but don't worry, Loreen is always more than eager to help her, and Deedre is there as well."
"But you left," Maegor pointed out.
"Cruel of me, I know. But I just couldn't stay there with Viserys prattling about or whining about… Forgive me for this treason Ser, but that man is an utter fool."
The Myrish woman let out a hefty sigh and laid back on the grass.
He couldn't help himself but to peek a glance at the woman's body. She wore a tight green dress that showed the top of her ample breasts, and wore a handful of silver chains around her long and smooth neck. He wanted to kiss it and grope those breasts, Maegor realized.
Maegor forced himself to look away; lasciviousness was unseemly, especially for a knight, even a bad one. "All is forgotten, my lady. Words are wind, the knight I served told me once."
"You are so sweet with me, Ser," said Tateana with her soft drawl, and Maegor felt himself flush red. "You seem… tense, Ser. Is there anything troubling you?"
"Me?" Said Maegor, startled.
Tateana sat up, now with her face even closer, he could now smell her sweet scent. "You can tell me. I might be able to help you."
"My lady, I cannot–"
"Let me guess," she cut him short. "Are the Norvoshi troubling you?"
He looked at her quizzically, wondering what she meant. The Norvoshi have been nothing but quiet and obedient. Should he start worry about them now?
"No?" She raised an eyebrow and gave him a lazy smile. "Then it must be that you learned Rhaenys' plan. The whole swap with the servant girls."
"How did you know?"
"I was there, remember? When Rhaenys asked you to do her a… favour. If that's what it can be called."
"Does she mean to kill her?" Maegor asked, he had nothing to lose doing so.
"Doreah? You ask hard questions," she replied, "I cannot be certain."
"So she might kill her?" Maegor asked again, but Tateana did not reply. "You know her better, my lady. You have a better judgement on her character. You must tell me."
Tateana sighed. "Rhaenys can be… unpredictable," she said at last. "I tell you she is not Viserys. If she was, I wouldn't be here, rest assured." She ran a hand through her thick black hair. "However, she can be… reckless. That is all I know."
"So what should I do?" He asked feeling aimless.
The Myrish woman smiled and gave a small shrug. She stood up from his side and shook some of the grass from her dress. "That is your choice, Ser."
And she left him alone with his thoughts… and Mudbank.
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"What are you doing here?" Daenerys asked when she saw him.
Nightfall had come, it was dark and the only noise was that of the khalasar. "There is something you need to know. It's about the queen."
"Rhaenys?" Daenerys was confused. She made a gesture to her servants, and all three women left the tent. "What is it? Tell me."
"She believes that Viserys is…" he blushed a little. "Having an affair with Doreah."
The girl looked puzzled. "Did she tell you so?" He nodded and Daenerys shifted uncomfortably on her feet, mayhaps the realization began its landing. "Why are you telling me this?"
Maegor sighed, here it goes… "She commanded me to murder the woman in retaliation for the slight against her," he told her feeling strangely light. He kneeled before her. "Please forgive me, princess, I ought to have told you before."
"Before?" There was some anger boiling up in her voice, "How much before? When did you learn this? Speak plainly and truly, ser."
For the first time, the young girl had scared him. She has every right to be angry with you, you fool, he told himself. "Far too many days ago, I am afraid… maybe a fortnight, or less." He scratched the scar on his cheek. He was lying, though, it had been exactly a fortnight ago.
Daenerys turned her back to him. "And she means to kill her now… Doesn't she?"
"I cannot be certain… Mayhaps she only means to question her."
"If that were the case, Rhaenys would have done it already," she replied cooly.
There was a silent pause; awkward and long.
Daenerys turned to him again, she looked bashful as if she might have been scolded instead of angry like he thought she would. "Thank you, ser," said the girl with a sigh, "Thank you for telling me this… I was about to make a reckless and mindless choice."
"Princess…" he began, but Daenerys cut him short.
"What do you make of Rhaenys' handmaiden, Loreen?"
"Rory?" Now he was confused. Why does she want to know about her?
"Rhaenys offered her to me in exchange for Doreah," she explained. "I know that she was one of the people that came with Rhaenys from Tyrosh, but other than that I know nothing about her."
Maegor scratched the back of his head. "She is very fond of Rhaenys. They have been friends since girlhood, she even has a pet name for your goodsister. Rhae, she calls her when nobody can hear them."
"You've heard them," she pointed out.
Maegor shrugged. "Yes, but I am but a humble guard doing his job."
"Would she make a good spy?"
"I am not sure, she's cheerful and can be somewhat talkative," he said as he scratched his scar. The truth was that once you talked to Loreen there was no way out of a conversation. She would go on and on about every single thing one could imagine. From the most unassuming thing to the most intimate memories, Loreen would speak to no end. More often than not, when Loreen was not talking to him, Maegor pitied the girl. No one really wanted to be around her, not even Rhaenys. The woman she was devoted to. "She seems loyal, though. Very much so, I would say."
"Is there anything else?"
"She's educated. She knows a lot about the Free Cities and speaks the common tongue and the bastardized valyrian from Tyrosh, and can read and write in either. She's highborn, I believe, or maybe from a wealthy enough family. And she also knows how to dye hair." said Maegor.
"I see…" Daenerys looked pensive. "What about the others?"
"The others?"
"The other people that serve her. Deedre and the other women given by Illyrio, the Myrish woman and the hairless slaves from Norvos," said Daenerys. "Would any of them make a good spy?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I'll refuse the exchange, but I still mean to ask for one of her servants." She smiled.
He frowned. Rhaenys wouldn't agree to that… or would she? Maegor found himself thinking.
"If Rhaenys really mistrusts me or mine, I think she would be eager to send someone to spy on us," Daenerys continued. "If she doesn't, it may mean that my good sister's intentions were never disingenuous, that it was only a misunderstanding. If she does, the informant would tell her the truth and end all of this."
Maegor nodded in understanding and pondered about it. Who would make the better spy in that lot? He wondered. Tateana might as well be the best option, she mentioned that Rhaenys trusted her well enough, and that she did not enjoy being near Viserys.
"Tateana would make a better spy than anyone… Rhaenys trusts her, maybe not as much as she trust Loreen, but more than Deedre or the Norvoshi, even if they are her aunt's men."
Daenerys nodded, and another silence fell upon them, this time less uncomfortable for him.
"Thank you." She smiled. "You may leave now, Dragonknight."
He returned the smile, albeit awkwardly. That title was much of a burden to him rather than anything else. "Goodnight, princess."
"Dany," she corrected.
"Then goodnight, Dany," he let out a small laugh. As he bowed he thought he saw her blush a little, though it may as well have been a shadow in the dim light.
As Maegor exited the tent, he came upon the night sky. Deep and dark but for the moon and stars. The moon was almost full, he noted.
It was a peaceful moment, a rarity as for late, still and tranquil and lovely to behold.
Maybe he could be a Dragonknight, in time, though.
He had much yet to experience.
Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф
ELAENA
Elaena did not like this godswood.
She was a Velaryon from Driftmark, far to the south, on an island on Blackwater Bay. There, the godswood was a garden: radiant and lively, where trees of apple and apricot delighted her and her family with their fruits during the summer, and flowers that grow and blossom during the kinder seasons.
Here thick black trunks were crammed close together, while contorted roots wrestled beneath the ground, and twisted branches intertwined a dense canopy overhead. It was a brooding place of deep silence and worship.
But Elaena did not worship these gods, so she finds herself reading a book instead.
Arya, on the other hand, did. Yet she didn't spend her time praying to them. Instead, the young Stark girl fought fiercely against a foe: an old straw man she stole from the training yard, which she beat incessantly with a branch she had picked up in the godswood while Nymeria, Arya's direwolf, barked at it.
Maybe their worship is different here. She smiled at the young girl. Elaena had never met a girl quite like Arya Stark before. She liked to play with swords and talk about grand adventures instead of dancing, sowing or singing or any other feminine activity.
Elaena may not like this godswood. But she did enjoy the company.
Since Myrcella had been somewhat prickly as of late, Arya Stark, the wild, lonesome girl, had become her closest companion during her stay in the North. During these past nine days, Arya had remained by her side most of the time.
She had even grown used to the direwolf's presence. Nymeria no longer frightened her!
It seemed incredible to Elaena that such different people could get along so well and manage to spend so much time together.
After a whole hour of battling her foe, Arya dropped to the ground exhausted.
"How was your battle?" Elaena asked.
Arya looked at her. "I was training," the younger girl rose and walked over to Elaena and sat down next to her. Arya lean in a little and glance at the book in her hands, "what are you reading?"
"A book about the queens of Westeros. It was an old gift from my uncle Tyrion, and it's the only book I brought," Elaena explained, though, in truth, it was the only book her mother allowed her to bring.
You'll read about queenhood. There is no need for anything more. Mother had told her.
"I am reading a chapter about Queen Aemma Arryn." Elaena said. "Even though half Targaryen by her mother side, Queen Aemma, like her father, the late Lord Rodrick Arryn, was brown of hair and brown of eye." Elaena recited. "This is the first time I ever read a description of her… Ah! There's more!" She exclaimed. "In contrast to the then Lady Alicent, whose hair was so fair it almost looked white."
Arya sighed. "I'm amazed that people care so much about hair colour," and, again, she dropped to the ground, now falling on her back, "it's just hair. It's not important."
That reminded Elaena of her good sister. She wondered how Alyssa was doing now, it has been a long time since they left Driftmark.
A sudden shiver ran down Elaena's spine, so she wrapped herself with the white fur cloak she wore.
Arya seemed to have noticed.
"Should we go somewhere else?" The nine-year-old girl asked.
"Maybe the crypts," she suggested half-heartedly.
Arya shook her head and replied: "It's even cooler there, remember?"
Elaena gave her a pensive look. "Well, I told you I would like to go to the glass gardens."
"We went yesterday and the day before," Arya protested. "And besides, Nymeria is not allowed to go there."
Elaena smiled as she remembered. "Which is good," she said teasingly in a tone of false haute. "Your direwolf can be restless, she could ruin the garden. Though, so can you." Arya glared at her playfully and Elaena smiled.
She kept reading for what it felt like a couple of hours until Nymeria, who had sat beside Arya, hurled up and bolted away fast in a brisky manner.
"Nymeria!" Arya called as she stood up and began chasing the direwolf.
Elaena got up too and chased after the young Stark girl, running as fast as her skirts would allow her. "Arya, wait!" She yelled franticly.
She traversed the forest hastily, dodging roots, jumping over potholes and stepping on mossy stones, but falling twice on them, hurting her knee and soiling her dress. Thankfully, nothing happened to the book she carried. When Elaena reached Arya, she noticed the girl was on the ground petting a white-furred wolf. A direwolf.
"Ghost!" A voice called; it was a boy's. And the white animal sprung up and jolted towards him.
"Jon!" Arya shouted with glee and came running towards the boy. The two of them hugged.
Elaena watched the scene unfold with a strong sense of intrusion; she shouldn't be watching. Yet, curiosity kept her planted there without looking away. The boy in question was rather plain-faced, and, by the looks of it, shorter than her by an inch or two. He had both dark hair and eyes. Unremarkable, mother would say.
The scene made her remember all the times her brothers returned from a trip, whether long or short. It made her a bit jealous; It's been a while since she ran to hug her brothers when they came back from a trip. Maybe her mother was right; the half-sibling bond was not strong, and perhaps if that kind of affection existed it would wither and fade over time.
It might happen to them…
Or maybe it was jealousy all along. Seeing Tommen and Myrcella, sometimes Elaena wished she were a girl again: to have her mother by her side every day and every night, and to be able to play with dolls, or pick every flower and every fruit, or live in the adventures and fantasies in her head.
After a moment, they separated from the embrace, and the boy became aware of Elaena's presence.
"My lady." He said, his voice tight.
Arya turned to her. "This is my brother Jon, Elaena. He serves in White Harbour," and then she turned back to her brother, "and this is Elaena Velaryon. She and her family are staying with us." The boy nodded stiffly in recognition.
Elaena bobbed her head and conceded him a kind smile. "Arya has spoken very highly of you," she said and Arya smiled bashfully at her brother, "have you come for the royal visit?
"Not quite so, my lady. I was tasked to bring a tribute in the name of House Manderly and White Harbour, and…" the boy shifted uncomfortable in his feet, "I had the chance to see the royal progress on my way here. They should be arriving soon."
That picked her own interest. "How soon?" Elaena almost blurted.
"Tomorrow."
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The royal procession arrived in Winterfell that next morning with all courtly splendour.
And despite all her mother's efforts, Elaena missed all of it. She and her family stood in a row way behind the members of House Stark, so they barely got a glimpse of the royal family. Barely a glimpse of her prince.
Yet she would have her chance on the welcoming feast Lord and Lady Stark had prepared for the King.
The Great Hall of Winterfell had become hazy with all the smoke and heavy with the scent of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. The stone walls became draped with banners of white, gold and grey, bearing the direwolf of Stark, the Baratheon's crowned stag, and the burning watchtower of Hightower.
Everyone who was someone in court sat on the tables below the royal dais. Her mother sat together with Tommen and Myrcella in a place reserved to the most important members of court, while Elaena sat with all the young maidens from court. Even if she was not one of them yet.
Amongst them was Margaery Tyrell, who, to Elaena's vast dismay, happened to sit beside her.
"Elaena!" The brown-haired girl greeted her in a cheerful manner. She wore a beautiful golden samite gown with a tight-laced bodice that bared her shoulders and the top of her bosom. "What pleasant surprise! It has been way too long since we have last seen each other. You look so beautiful tonight."
Thankfully she had practiced her words, otherwise she might have shamed herself. "You too, Margaery. Your gown is very lovely." Elaena managed, trying not to sound nervous.
"Oh, you are so kind." Margaery waved her hand in a playful manner.
The other girls had arrived at that point, they were eight, including Margaery, and Elaena did not know any of them.
"This is Elaena Velaryon." Margaery had the grace to tell the others, then turned to her again. "Elaena, this is my cousin Elinor," she signalized the other pretty brown-haired girl. Elaena noticed that she was younger than Margaery, and that her clothes weren't as lavish.
Mother did mention that there was another cousin. A rose from a lower branch… One just as thorny, if not more, she had said.
Margaery gestured the other girl that sat next to Elaena. "This lovely maiden besides you is Beatrice Vyrwel." She didn't seem very lovely to her; she was grimacing unattractively. "And besides her is Melissa Mullendore, sister to the great Ser Mark."
Elaena nodded, pretending to know exactly which knight she was talking about.
"These are the twins, Darla and Varla Costayne. They are the younger sisters of Aemon Costayne." She explained excitedly. "At the end sits Talla Tarly, the daughter of the lord of Horn Hill, with Aleyne Florent who happens to be her cousin." The two girls at the back smiled at Elaena from where they sat. They seemed kind enough, she thought.
Vyrwel, Mullendore, Costayne, Tarly, Florent. All houses from the Reach, Elaena observed. All vassals to House Tyrell; all loyal to Margaery's family.
All of a sudden, a girl burst through the doors of the great hall and the whole table fell into silence.
"There she is!" Margaery exclaimed with her cloying tune and beckoned to the girl.
"I wonder why she's so late." Someone at their table asked.
"We all know why." Elinor commented, her voice a cruel jeer.
Elaena could hear Margaery sighed. "Don't be so mean Elinor," she chastised her cousin. "Some people just can't help themselves."
The girl in question arrived at the table sporting a snowy linen gown with sleeves lined with golden satin. She was a pretty girl with freckles all over her pale skin.
"We were all waiting for you, Mathilda." Margaery said with a smile.
The girl Mathilda blushed a little. "Forgive me." She seemed upset to Elaena.
Margaery turned to Elaena again. "This is Mathilda, daughter of Lord Mathis Rowan of Goldengrove," and then to Mathilda, "and this is Elaena, the sister of the Lord of Driftmark and daughter to Lady Cersei."
"A pleasure." The Rowan girl said acidly.
"Well met." Elaena could barely manage out the reply: the shift in the girl's demeanour unsettled her.
"There is no seat left for me." She pointed out to Margaery, annoyed.
"Oh my." Margaery breathed and touched her lower lip with her index. "You can have my place, Mathilda. There's an empty seat besides my brother Loras."
An immense ruckus started when the name of the knight of the flowers was uttered; almost every girl wanted to give up their seat. After the prince (of course), Ser Loras Tyrell was the most desirable man at court.
And when looking at him, it wasn't hard to see why. Loras Tyrell had all of his sister's beauty. He had a handsome face and his hair was a mass of lazy chestnut curls that tumble over his large brown eyes.
Margaery left to sit on her brothers table and Mathilda sat right besides Elaena, and she did not know how to feel about this. Should she be glad that Margaery is not close by? Or should she be wary since she will not be able to keep an eye on her? Or should she be afraid from a possible confrontation with the new girl besides her? She could not be sure.
Everyone at the table talked to each other. Everyone but Elaena who sat there in silence.
Obviously, that troubled her.
They don't want me here. Elaena thought. And why would they? Elaena was just some girl they have never met before, some girl that knows nothing about the fashions or the court gossip or the most gallant knights.
Her stomach felt tied in knots and her tong felt heavy inside her mouth. In an attempt to ease that she drank the wine from her cup until it was empty.
Thankfully for her the procession of the royal family began. From where Elaena sat, she was able to get a good glimpse on all of them.
Lord Stark and Queen Alysanne came first. She was as handsome and tall as Elaena remember; she stood at the same height of Lord Eddard. The queen wore an elegant gown of pale-yellow damask and a slim golden crown with garnet and topazes incrusted. Her fine straight hair was tidily combed into a jewelled net. When they passed by her table the queen noticed Elaena, and smiled at her, kindly.
Mother did say that she liked me… She was pleased to see that at least someone (other than her kin) would welcome her presence in court.
Next came King Robert with Lady Stark on his arm. If there was anyone who could dwarf the queen, it was the king himself. Six and a half feet tall, yet he had a girth to match such height. Red-faced under his thick beard and sweating through his silks. She wouldn't have like being in Lady Catelyn's shoes in that moment.
After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the grace a three-year-old could muster. Behind him had come both Bran, who looked delighted to see so many knights, and Arya, who looked miserable in her dress.
Though surprisingly pretty, too, Elaena noted with satisfaction.
Close behind, came Robb with Princess Cassandra on his arm. She had grown so much since the last time Elaena had seen her. At nine (or eight; she was not sure) she stood an inch shorter than who was escorting her.
Joss had been prettier… Elaena thought, remembering her old friend. She would have been three-and-ten today, and a maiden most like.
Elaena shook her head. It was better not to think about that.
And then… Came her prince.
He had grown too, a lot. Even though he was only fourteen, the Prince Edric of House Baratheon stood much taller than most men in the hall. Handsome was an understatement; he was perfection. He wore a black velvet doublet that had stags embroidered in golden thread, and a cape of cloth-of-gold that was clasped with two miniature stag heads. The prince coal-black hair was cut short, which made it easier to see his perfect clear-blue eyes. The only thing that ruined the moment was the fact that Sansa Stark was holding his arm. She would have like being in Sansa's shoes in that moment.
Sadly the prince didn't seem to have noticed her presence.
Once the king and the lord of Winterfell and their children were seated, the feast could truly begin.
As they ate Elaena overheard Elinor talk to one of the other girls.
"Did you see Sansa Stark's dress?" Elinor asked Beatrice Vyrwel.
"Yes," Beatrice sniffed. "I can't believe she dared to wear a wool dress for this occasion."
"Are you surprised?" One of the Costayne twins asked. "The North is a poor land and so are its houses."
"It isn't just a cheap dress. It's an ugly one," Elinor mocked and the other girls laughed.
I should tread carefully around them… Elaena thought nervous and drank from her refilled cup.
When they were all done eating, the dancing began. Many lords, knights and wards, and almost every highborn girl and lady, rose from their seats and picked a partner to dance with.
Elaena had the chance to dance with three men.
First, a young man who wore an orange jerkin with a silk butterfly sewn in the choker that seemed to flutter every time he moved. He must have been the Mullendore knight Margaery spoke about. After him, Elaena danced with her handsome uncle Jaime, his movements where swift and graceful, and gave her some words of encouragement.
She suddenly felt brave and powerful. Though she suspected it might have been the wine.
And then she danced with Robb Stark. Though two inches shorter than her, Robb looked quite handsome in his grey doublet.
"My lady," he said as they dance. "You look very beautiful this evening."
"Thank you, my lord." She replied politely. "You look very handsome yourself."
He blushed. "Forgive me, but I am not used to act so nervously around…"
Elaena raised her brow inquisitively. "Around?"
"People," said Robb.
They separated and twirled.
"There is something a have been planning to ask." Robb asked when they returned.
"Do tell, my lord," she insisted.
But before he could utter the question, someone or something must have brushed her too hard or dance around too close to her, for Elaena tripped and fell to the floor.
The hall seemed to have fallen silent, and everyone who was someone was looking at her. Margaery Tyrell was covering her mouth with her hands, likely hiding a smile… and her cousin Elinor showing off a smirk. Her mother looked distressed and uncle Jaime looked worried. Princess Cassandra laughed and Ser Loras looked amused and raised an eyebrow at her. And worst of all, the prince was looking at her: for the first time in years!
She looked away, embarrassed, and felt the tears begin to well behind her eyes. She pushed herself to her feet.
It was too much.
Elaena gathered up her skirts and what little dignity she had left, and run out of the great hall of Winterfell in a rush. She could not let them see her tears.
Through the open windows, Elaena could hear the filtered sound of music and songs. Which was the last thing she wanted to hear. Since the sleeves of her dress were just too short, she used the back of her wrists to wipe her tears away, and kept running as fast as she could, until she tripped and fell to the ground, again.
Now with her pretty blue dress soiled with dirt, Elaena began to sob.
Suddenly, she heard someone whistling a tune. Startled and still on the ground, she turned.
It was her uncle Tyrion, the dwarf.
Elaena wiped the bottom of her nose with the back of her hand, and for once –since she was on the ground– looked at him in the eye: a mismatched pair of green and black. He had a roasted onion in hand.
"My mother sent you, didn't she? " She accused.
"No," he denied amused.
"Why are you here?" She asked, slightly annoyed.
"Dwarfs are hardly the most elegant dancers," he said. "Besides, I've drunk too much, and I learned long ago that to vomit on someone is hardly the most decorous thing to do at a feast," Tyrion ran the back of his hand over his mouth in a grotesque manner.
"Ugh!" Elaena said in disgust, herself wanting to retch at that moment.
"And why are you here?" Her uncle asked as he waddled closer to her.
Elaena looked away in shame. "I made a fool of myself. I… tripped in the middle of the dance. Everyone laughed at me. I am a joke, uncle."
Tyrion laughed; a derision filled gesture.
She stood up and faced him. "Go ahead, mock me as well." Elaena told him, sulking.
"Forgive me, dear niece, Dwarfs are not known to be tactful." He raised an eyebrow. "Look at yourself. Do you think anyone would care so much if you tripped once?"
"You just don't understand; the prince saw me like that! And likely all of the maidens as well! Tripping like some fool!"
He gave her a crooked smile. "Are you telling a dwarf that you looked like a fool?" However, Elaena ignored him. "Hundreds of years of dressing in motley have granted me and my kind to know who is a fool and who is not. You are not a fool, child."
"He will never look at me any other way!" She spat with anguish. "Never!"
Tyrion shook his oversized head. "Hardly. I know the boy; he falls for every pretty face he sees," he told her. "And who is prettier than you?"
Elaena granted him a weary glance. "I'm your kin, of course you think that."
"You know? I can get the prince to come here. Maybe he could change your mind."
That picked Elaena's interest. "Really? How?" She pushed herself from the ground.
Tyrion looked up at her. "The princeling likes me well. He thinks me the most amusing thing…" he said and then gave her a devilish smile, "'wonder why?" Tyrion chuckled a little. "If I tell him just the right things and nudge him just in the right direction, your desired Prince Edric will come running to you," he took both of her hands in his. "You just wait here, darling."
Elaena smiled a little. "Thank you, uncle."
Her uncle nodded at her, now with a kinder smile drawn on his face. "Though I must counsel you to dust the dirt from your dress." And with that he let go of her hands and returned to the great hall to get her prince.
As her uncle told her, she dusted of her skirts and waited outside, in the cold, yet the anticipation gave her just enough warmth to withstand the subtle summer icy winds of Winterfell. She was alone, her only company being the waning moon that smiled down at her.
After a while, he came.
Her prince.
"Elaena?" His voice had deepened so much since she last heard it. "Elaena Velaryon? Is that you?"
She turned to meet him. "Yes, it's me, my prince." Elaena noted that moonglow made his eyes look like sparkling sapphires.
He gave her a dazzling smile.
It was almost a dream.
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Three days have passed since the arrival of the royal court to Winterfell. Elaena and her prince decided to share a morning walk through the great northern castle. They visited the Godswood and the glass gardens, and now they were walking through the courtyard.
"It was lovely," Edric said as they walk. "Thank you for bringing me to those places, Lena."
She smiled bashfully. "I wasn't sure if you were going to like it, I am glad that you did."
He smiled back, and Elaena had to look away, for his smile was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen: all pearly whites. Edric put his finger under her chin and lifted her head, so she was looking up into his beautiful blue eyes. The prince leaned in and narrowed the space between them. "Eddy…" Elaena whispered.
They were about to kiss when suddenly he halted and drew away.
"My prince?" She asked, confused.
He smiled at her, and Elaena noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I am sorry, but I believe we need more privacy." He cocked his head to the side, signalling the serving men working.
Elaena felt a fluttering inside her tummy. "There is a tower near the first keep, no one goes there," she suggested.
"Let's go then," her prince took her hand and led her through the yard.
They arrived at the base of the tower. "This must be it," the prince said as he let go of her hand. He touched the thick grey vine that covered the bottom of the tower and partially hid the main door which had broken off its frame. Edric pulled the door open, but the whole thing came out.
"Seems like the Starks need maintenance in this part of the castle," he said amused, and placed the broken door against the wall. Edric peeked inside the tower, looked up, then turned around to see her. A playful smile appeared on his lips. "How about a little race to the top?"
But before she could give him answer her prince rushed inside.
"Edric!" Elaena called taken aback and went inside the tower as well. "Wait! It could be dangerous!"
But her prince did not heed her and became lost to her as he climbed up the stairs.
As reluctant as she was, Elaena followed her beloved and climbed the steeped turnpike stairs. She called her prince again and again, but again and again, she was met with silence, and the higher she went the darker it got. If it wasn't for the small cracks in the wall that let some small amount light crept in, she would be in complete darkness. Elaena continued up the stairs until suddenly there were no more steps to climb. She paused for a moment, and after carefully looking around her, she noticed that to continue she had to climb a ladder; a wooden thing that creaked every time she moved.
Though annoying, Elaena welcomed the sound, for it was the only thing that accompanied her in that silent moment.
Until it was not.
The moment she reached the top she found a trap door; through it Elaena was able to hear a muffled conversation between two people that she could not recognize. They were women's voices, and clearly, neither was Edric's.
A sudden fear ran through her chest as she wondered about the whereabouts of her prince. Awkwardly, Elaena pressed her ear against the crease of the trap door to try and hear the conversation.
"Can't do… Treason…" The woman with the deeper voice said. It sounded like a warning.
"Don't care… I am… child it's mine… my choice…" The other replied with anguish.
After that, there was silence, and Elaena waited a couple of minutes before opening the trap door and finally climbing reaching the top.
The top of the tower was roofless and it had crenelated half-walls made out of grey-white stone. Elaena thought it was odd, she could swear that the tower's roof was steeped and of stone tile. But what shocked her the most was that there was no one there. She was alone.
Where's Edric? Where are those women? Elaena thought aghast.
She rose to her feet and dusted off her skirts and made her way to the crenelated walls. From up there she could not see anything; the clouds had wrapped the tower completely.
Feeling lonely she turned to leave, but Elaena stopped in her tracks when she saw the tall and slim figure of a woman clad in a sky-blue cloak. She was a giant; at least seven feet of height.
"Who are you?" Elaena asked with trepidation. She was amazed that had not seen her before.
The tall woman turned around to face her. Her face was obscured by the hood of her cloak, but with a pale and languid arm, in an effortless manner, the woman removed it revealing her face.
It was solemn, pale and so full of sorrow, yet very beautiful. Her hair was also pale as the clouds that drifted through the tower. But her eyes were the queerest thing about her. They were completely white, like two huge pearls.
Elaena stepped back and hit her back with the embrasure. "Who are you?" She asked again.
"Can you hear it?" The woman asked, but her lips did not move at all.
Suddenly a strong gust of wind appeared out of nowhere. It was blowing so hard that she had to latch on one of the merlons. She look back at the stranger but the woman had vanished with the clouds.
To get a better grip Elaena pushed herself onto the embrasure and found herself looking at the bottom of the tower.
She saw no castle or courtyard or walls, nor any neighbouring town. All she saw was the sea.
The sea…
Elaena jerked up from her bed startled. It was just a dream, she thought. There was no strange woman in the broken tower asking her even stranger questions, and there had been no morning stroll through the castle with the prince; he would go on a hunting trip with the king and Lord Eddard, Elaena remembered, slightly disappointed.
The truth was that Elaena and Edric had barely spent any time together. Not counting the dance they shared during the welcome feast, they were able to share two miserable conversations (if they can be called that). Her prince was constantly and utterly occupied, and among him all squires and young knights that clung to him like moths, Elaena barely had any chance to talk to him in private, hardly had any chance to blossom a true romance between them.
And now he was leaving for a hunting trip.
Elaena looked out the window and realised it was very early in the morning. Maybe, if she was quick, she might get a chance to say goodbye to the prince and wish him a good hunt or something. It was not much, but her grandmother has always said that when it comes to love, the little details are the ones that truly matter.
Determined to meet her prince Elaena pushed the covers away with her legs, but, in the pale light of early morning, she saw blood.
She sighed in annoyance; it was her moon blood. It had come earlier than she thought.
She went to the basin and washed between her legs, scrubbing away all the blood. By the time she was done, the water was red.
"Elaena?" Myrcella said faintly.
She turned to her sister, "Did I wake you?"
"No." The little girl rubbed her eyes and took a better look of her sister. "What happened to your bedclothes?"
They are ruined, she thought miserably. "My moon blood." She replied, tired. "I will have to fetch a servant and take a bath." Elaena made her way to the side chair and put on her white-gold morning robe and slippers. "I'll go to the maester and ask for a potion for the cramps, and I will also ask a servant to help you dress."
Her sister only moaned exhausted.
And Elaena moaned too, but in defeat. She might not be quick enough for her prince.
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Dressed in a pretty deep blue gown with gored yellow sleeves and heavily perfumed, Elaena visited the maester's tower. Even from outside she could hear the crows croaking from the rookery. She made her way through the steep stairs that led directly to the maester's chamber and knocked the door three times. An old serving woman who could not be much older than her own grandmother opened the door for her.
She entered the room and became aghast when she saw who was there. It was the queen. She was talking to a maester Elaena did not recognize. What is she doing here?
"Your Grace," Elaena knelt before the queen. She heard the queen approaching, but she could not dare to look at her in the eye. It was too mortifying.
"Rise my lady," Queen Alysanne commanded in a silken yet powerful voice. "What brings you here, dear child? Are you feeling unwell?" She asked in a tone that either pretended worry or judgement, Elaena could not be certain.
"No!" She blurted out quickly, "I mean, yes, but it's only my…" She almost said moon blood, but stopped herself in time. "I am sorry, your grace, but I do not wish to bother you."
"Nonsense. You will never be a bother, dear," she replied almost cheerfully and took Elaena's hands in her own. "Now tell me, what is it?"
Elaena blushed fiercely. "It's… my moon blood. I came for some potion for the cramps."
The queen nodded in understanding. "I know exactly what you need," said the queen as she led her to a stool. "Wait here," and Elaena sat there and watched the queen.
Queen Alysanne move through the chamber with such dexterity that she may have passed for a maester. She moved through the tables littered with vials of potions, jars filled with herbs, and equipment. She grabbed a kettle (which the old servant had filled with water), a jar of herbs, and a potion vial from a nearby cabinet.
"My old septa used to say that had I been born a boy I would have made a great maester." The queen said as she worked, "Could you imagine that?" She lit a fire beneath the kettle.
With the most certainty, Elaena wanted to say, but that might have been too forward. Instead she just said: "yes, your grace."
The queen finished the mixture and poured in an empty vial. "Drink this when they start, it will sooth any pain you may experience," she came and handed her the vial. "We wouldn't want the most beautiful girl in the castle to feel ill."
Elaena blushed harder. "My queen is too kind," she said bashfully, "but I cannot presume to hold such title."
"Oh don't be so modest dear Elaena," said the queen, "you are your mother's daughter, after all."
Elaena couldn't help but smile. She loved when people told her how much she resembled her mother.
"Ah, such a lovely smile," Queen Alysanne said suddenly. "Small wonder that my son is so smitten with you."
Astonished, Elaena raised her head, "I beg your pardon, your grace?"
"Edric hasn't stop talking about you since the feast. I had never seen him so… fascinated, if truth to be told." The older woman fixed the sleeve of her dress. "He had been so angry when my king husband announced the hunt; for he had wanted nothing more than to stay in the castle and court you."
"Have they left?" Elaena asked precipitously. "For the hunt, I mean."
The queen smiled. "You have two hours, or more knowing my husband."
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Giddy from all the Queen's comments, she returned to their apartments in the guest house to get something to eat before going to her prince. There she saw her uncle Tyrion and Tommen having breakfast together. Her mother and sister were absent, however.
"Where's my mother?" Elaena asked as she sat on the chair besides her little brother. She pressed a kiss on Tommen's forehead affectionally.
Tyrion looked up from the book he was reading. "She and your other uncle left early," he closed the book. "And what about you?" A crooked smile appeared in his face. "Why so joyous? You haven't been with the prince, have you?"
"No," she told him in dry voice, Elaena understood the lewd implication and didn't want to humour it. She picked up an apple from the table. "I was in the maester's tower," she showed him the vial of potion.
He raised a brow. "Not because of the prince, I hope?"
Elaena glared at her uncle. "One does not presume to insult the crown prince. It's considered treason."
Her uncle snorted. "One dance with the crown prick and you already become his loyal servant."
"He'll become king one day, uncle. You better remember that," she said haughtily. "Anyways, where's Myrcella?"
"Your sister is still in bed."
"Why?" Elaena asked, now worried. As prickly as Myrcella had been as for late, Elaena still care for her little sister. "Is she sick? What happen to her?"
"She didn't sleep," said Tommen, speaking up for the first time since she returned. "She had a bad dream."
Apparently I'm not the only one, Elaena thought. She felt a little guilty that she hadn't cared more about her this morning. Poor thing… I could have asked the maester for her.
"Does mother know bout this?" She asked.
Tommen shook his head.
"Your mother left before you woke up, it seems," Tyrion broke in.
She turned to look at her uncle, "I am going to bid my prince good fortune in the hunt," she picked an apple from the table and stood up. "You will go and fetch maester Luwin for Myrcella."
Tyrion guffawed. "Now you are starting to sound like a queen… Maybe that book I gave you has some good advice in it."
Elaena kept herself from smiling and left.
One day she will become queen. She was certain.
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A.N: I am so sorry for the delay. I know that I promised an update for Xmas, but due to some medical issues, I wasn't able to do so (all is well and good now, so don't worry).
Well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it's significantly longer than my usual template (almost 9000 words!), but I just couldn't split the chapter into 2 parts again. And I seriously mean again because, fun fact, I actually meant all the events from chapters 3-4 to be contained in one single chapter.
Please read and review.