So, the Celtigars.
For those who don't know, they're the third Valyrian house that was able to escape the Doom of Valyria and made their home north of Dragonstone on Claw Isle. They're clearly GRRM's least favorite valyrians, and they barely get a mention in most of his stories.
This is going to be Dance-Era, but a good chunk of chapters will be leading up to the Dance and building up House Celtigar. In this timeline, House Celtigar has been given dominion over Crackclaw Point and is significantly more powerful for it. They still aren't a dragon-riding house, though. Yet.
Final note, Gael Targaryen is not an OC, she's one of Alysanne and Jaehaerys' metric ton of children.
King's Landing - 99 AC
Gael Targaryen was a fool.
Whatever her mother said, whatever her servants said, whatever the remains of her family said, she knew the truth. The whispers of the court were never far from her ears, and the whispers were not kind to her.
She had thought she'd found someone different. Someone who understood her interests, and who could respect her as a person. Someone who didn't think she was an idiot.
He'd tricked her.
Jonquille, the only maid who was loyal to her and her alone, had notified Gael of his bragging the day after the fact. Gael had given everything to him, had shared herself with him, and he had bragged about it. 'An easy conquest', she'd reported him saying.
He would regret those words.
Gael approached the small council room, a room where she knew both her father, King Jaehaerys, and her mother, Queen Alysanne, would be dealing with matters of great importance. Typically, the Targaryen princess would be deeply averse to interrupting important matters such as these, but she had an important matter of her own.
Arriving at the door, she smiled in greeting to the two kingsguard who stood gallantly outside. Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Clement Crabb, two of the greatest knights the realm had ever seen, both nodded to her in turn, and Clement turned and entered the chambers.
"The Princess Gael Targaryen to see the small council, your Grace," the knight began, the husky accent of Cracklclaw Point apparent even after all these years. He looked at her curiously. "On matters regarding…"
"Private affairs." Gael supplied.
Clement frowned. "On matters regarding private affairs."
"Send her in," said the King.
She entered, passing Ser Clement and thanking him with a smile. He was only doing his job, after all, and it wasn't his fault she was in this situation.
Jaehaerys stood, the rest of the small council following suit. "Princess Gael."
"Thank you, father." Gale curtsied, her hands clutching tight to her dress.
"What besets you so that you must call on the small council, my dearest?" Her mother looked concerned. The Good Queen Alysanne was old, her face creased and wrinkled, but that age revealed laugh lines that came from a lifetime of joy. There wasn't joy on her face now.
Gael was always far closer to her mother than her father. King Jaehaerys, known colloquially to the realm as 'The Conciliator', had been an abstract figure for most of her life. He spent more time with his small council than he did his family, and cared more for the roads of his kingdom than he did his wife. Alysanne, on the other hand, was a loving mother and had made Gael's life bearable over the years since the deaths of many of her brothers and sisters.
"I hate to impose," she began, her voice shaking, "but I have pressing matters to discuss with my family. My lords," she then looked to the rest of the small council. "Could you please excuse us?"
"This is highly unprecedented!" blustered Grand Maester Allar, a rather arrogant man all things told. "A princess dismissing the small council itself would be-"
"Perfectly justified," interrupted Ser Ryam Redwyne. "Considering our princess' obvious distress."
Both the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the hand of the king, Ryam Redwyne had risen high in court. He was a steadying influence in King's Landing and was perhaps the greatest knight of the age. Gael liked him, and she hoped that he liked her in return. His support would be crucial.
The hand stood, the rest of the small council following suit. Alysanne and Jaehaerys remained in their seats, exchanging a look with one another that made the jealous part of Gael seethe. Had she been a more impulsive girl, like Saera or Viserra had been, she might have lashed out. But Gael knew how to keep her feelings below the surface.
Gael took a seat adjacent to her father and across from her mother. Alysanne was looking more and more concerned, while Jaehaerys was stony. They had both come to the same conclusion: something was wrong. Alysanne seemed more willing to speak. "Please Gael, tell us what ails you."
The last of Alysanne and Jaehaerys' children swallowed, and her palms began to sweat. It was too late to stop now.
"I am with child."
The response was immediate and fierce. Her father was on his feet, his large frame unhindered by venerability, roaring and spitting obscenities. Mother sat in a state of shock, her face blank and barren, eyes haunted. They were both so loud.
She set her face on the table and covered her ears. "Stop it, please, stop it, please" she whispered, unheard over the din.
Eventually, the noise stopped. Her father stood over her, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Alysanne's hand wrapped around hers and pulled it from her head. A second later, her mother's finger tugged up her chin, so that Gael was looking into the violet pools of the Good Queen.
Jaehaerys spoke, his voice trembling. "How?"
She winced. "Father-"
"How?"
"One of the minstrels at court. I was tired and had drunk much. He was handsome and charming. During the moment, I thought he liked me for me."
Her mother's eyes were wet. "Oh, my child."
Gael's eyes watered, and she blinked furiously. "But I was just a stupid girl. I was wrong."
"No, Gael-"
"You were." Her father's voice was curt and stiff as if barely controlled. It likely was.
The wood scraped as her mother stood. Gael could see her eyes had yet to dry, but they were still hard like granite. "Jaehaerys. Remember Saera. Remember Viserra."
The King and Queen met each other's eyes, quiet as they stood over their eighteen-year-old daughter. Gael sat quietly. Her thoughts strayed to the prick who did this to her, but she did her best to refocus. There was no good thinking about him now.
"What is the father's name?"
Gael sighed. She told her father who the man was.
Queen Alysanne the Good walked to the door, opening it into the hall. "Ser Clement," she called. The knight of Cracklaw Point marched inside, bowing to the royal family. Alysanne spoke in a hushed tone next to his ear, and he nodded a second later.
"My king, my queen. Princess."
The kingsguard left the room, striding with purpose and direction.
The minstrel died an hour later.
Claw Isle - 99 AC
Malden Celtigar was not having a good day.
It had been a decent start, having woken up to leftovers from last night's feast, but the day had quickly gone downhill from there.
His squire, Jonah Waxley, had somehow fallen from his pony and broken his wrist in the fall. Luckily, the boy would retain the arm, but he had come close to serious injury if not death, and his entire morning had been spent at Jonah's bedside.
After he'd managed to return to his tasks, Lord Pyne had arrived at Claw Isle with his veritable brood of daughters, in the man's third or fourth attempt to seek his hand. Malden could not fault him for his ambition, it was the way of the world, but the tedium of denial was getting irritating. Lord Pyne couldn't seem to get it into his head that Malden had to think of greater prizes than the daughter of a backwater fief, and that as a hale, comely, and martial lord of Claw Isle, he was one of the most eligible bachelors of the Crownlands. He had to think bigger than a Pyne.
After he'd placated the Lord of Fourtrees with a betrothal to one of his household knights, he'd been bombarded with a new arrival of reports and scripts from his maester, and had frantically set the new changes in import and export taxes for the next month.
When he'd finally dealt with everything, Malden had settled down in his solar for a nice cup of aged blackberry wine from the family's own reserves. Alas, after his first sip Maester Glendon burst in, with extreme haste considering his advanced age.
"Sire!" He puffed, holding his hand out to him. Clutched between his spindly fingers was a tightly bound scroll, in ornate leather. The wax was a special hue and bore the sigil of the red dragon.
"Glendon, what is this?" Malden demanded, even as he was rising to reach for the letter. The glass of blueberry wine sat on his desk, forgotten immediately. Pulling it from the old man, he sliced through the wax with his dagger and unfurled the scroll.
Lord Malden Celtigar of Claw Isle,
His Grace Jaehaerys Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm has issued a generous invitation to your lordship, bidding you come to King's Landing to discuss the issue of marriage in regards to yourself and Princess Gael Targaryen.
I will not insult your intelligence by reminding you of the prestige that the Targaryen name brings, and the weight of this proposal. Should you accept this proposal and come to the capital, we will proceed quickly with negotiations.
The best,
Grand Maester Allar
"A betrothal…" Malden trailed off, passing the letter to his maester. The old man read it quickly, absorbing the contents, before mirroring Malden's silence.
"My lord, this is something your family has been seeking for generations. Since before the conquest, if the castle's records are to be believed."
"You're right. Before the death of my grandsire, he would always bemoan how the Targaryens had scorned our family, again and again. We've had some prestigious marriages, yes. The Graftons, to my aunt Prudence. I've lost count of the times we've married into the Velaryons. My mother, bless her soul, was a Darry. But never, never a Targaryen. 'The Targaryens are too proud', my grandsire always said."
"And what is your opinion on the subject, my lord?
Malden sat down, picking up the cup once again and swirling the wine until it formed a small whirlpool. "What choice do I have? Who would turn down a Targaryen?"
"Who indeed. It makes one wonder why they would choose the Celtigars out of all their options."
The Lord of Claw Isle hummed, considering his advisor's words. Gael Targaryen, the last remaining daughter of the King, was a worthy match to any suitor in the realm. If Jaehaerys wanted, he could have a marriage with the Lannisters, the Hightowers, the Starks, or maybe even the Martells. What made him choose him?
"There are better matches than I. More powerful people, with older names and larger armies. If I have been chosen over them, then it is Gael who is not worthy of such people. And the only way that she would be unworthy would be if she were openly tarnished, or tainted somehow."
The maester pursed his lips. "But that should be common knowledge, my lord. If something like that had happened to a royal princess, the gossip would have reached here by now.
Taking a swig from his cup, Malden grinned. "Unless the court has yet to know, but will soon. Why else hastily arrange a marriage with the nearest bachelor of moderate status?"
"Ah." Glendon looked uncomfortable, and perhaps slightly embarrassed. "You mean the princess is pregnant."
Malden nodded. "And she has yet to show."
"What… what is to be done about this revelation?"
The Lord of Crackclaw Point sighed. "People make mistakes. Things happen, and I'd have to be an idiot to think that maidens are as common as the realm and the Faith proclaims. I'm certainly no green boy in that regard, myself, so why should I expect my wife to be?"
"It is a sin in the eyes of the Seven-"
"Oh, spit on that. You don't believe in that sort of thing any more than I do. The other lords can worry about virtue and innocence and the like, but such values will only hurt them in the long run. I'd like to think that I'm smarter than that."
Glendon inclined his head, ceding the point. His eyes, pale and pink, glinted. "And what of the bastard?"
"The bastard, boy or girl, will be a Targaryen by blood. He or she will be treated with respect. We have plenty of room on Claw Isle, even for dragons. Now, begin preparations for our departure."
"Yes, my lord. At once."
The Celtigars were going to the capital.
King's Landing - 99 AC
They were married in the Grand Sept, in front of a boisterous crowd of Crownlander nobility who in turn stood in front of a crowd of King's Landing's smallfolk. One of the Most Devout blessed their marriage and read from his book, his droning words continuous and impossible to focus on.
Her daughter looked resplendent, having been dressed in a beautiful black gown studded with rubies, made more refined by immaculate lace and stitching. Her husband-to-be was similarly stunning, the wealth of House Celtigar clearly displayed before the royal court. Alysanne couldn't fault him for making the most of it, but she also couldn't help but lament the very existence of the Celtigar cloak draped over her sweet daughter's shoulders.
Lord Malden Celtigar had figured out their little ploy as soon as he'd arrived in King's Landing, correctly guessing Gael's condition and agreeing to move forward with the marriage. He'd managed to eke out some more conditions during the dowry negotiations, but this was overall positive. The Celtigar lad was strapping and kind, and from what limited interactions Alysanne had seen between him and her daughter had been positive.
Jaehaerys, curse him, was still fuming over the entire ordeal. He'd been planning to sell Gael off in just another year or two to a Great Lord of the realm, and Gael's pregnancy had broken the axle on that endeavor. He'd had a Hightower or a Lannister in mind for her, but now he was lucky to settle for a Celtigar.
Malden had proclaimed a desire to keep Gael's bastard with him on Claw Isle, and Jaehaerys had been all too willing to go along with his wishes. Alysanne would personally have preferred to keep a portion of Gael here with her, but she too knew it was for the best. Better for the child to grow up alongside half-sisters and brothers, rather than an empty keep of servants and ghosts.
Alysanne did her best to stifle any emotion as Lord Celtigar kissed her daughter, the young man putting a respectful amount of passion into the embrace. Gael's response was smaller, more muted, but despite that, her attraction to Lord Malden was clear, at least to Alysanne.
The Queen was proud of her husband for how he had handled this whole affair. It had proved that he'd learned from his mistakes, and his failures with their other daughters had allowed him to salvage the situation. Gael wasn't run off to Essos like Saera or dead in the street like Viserra, and Alysanne could still fly to Claw Isle whenever she wished to see her.
Alongside her husband, her family, and the court of King's Landing, she applauded, the noise filling the room. The Most Devout beamed proudly, and Jaehaerys allowed a small grin to slip past his normally tight lips.
In the face of everything, House Targaryen's future was bright.
Alysanne prayed it stayed that way.
So that's the premise.
Gael Targaryen married into House Celtigar with a bastard on the way. House Celtigar with dragonriding genes at long last, and a bright future for the realm. Heh.
Also, for the few of you who are wondering about my other fic, The Wind Our Steed, I'm almost done with the new chapter, and it should be up tomorrow. Sorry for the copious delays, university is hard. What do you know?
Good night, folks.
This chapter has been revised.