Chapter Twenty Six: A Freaking Westerosi Wedding, Part Four.
Twenty Second Day of the Eleven Month, 113 AC.
I woke up in a pool of my own drool and with little interest in that 'moving' thing that the young people were going on about.
I had been on the road for more than a month, followed by two emotionally and physically exhausting days and not nearly enough sleep between them.
Screw the wedding I need a nap.
I heard a snort in agreement not far from me.
Sky agreed it would seem.
"We have a consensus then," I muttered with surprising seriousness.
Sadly, I only closed my eyes for maybe a few seconds before I heard my door open and plated boots walking in.
Curses, my living alarm clock.
"It is time to get up," I heard Ebermen state next to my bed.
"No," I groaned.
"You need to get up," he stated factually.
"Never," I responded with one eye half open and (trying to) staring balefully at the armored knight.
He crossed his arms, "You know that I am right."
"Heresy," I hissed. "I demand sleep."
"Amusing," he said dryly. "Enjoy your rest, what is the worst that could happen in your absence?"
That got my second eye open, "A lot."
"As you say," he nodded.
I was no meek fool however, "I have a dragon…"
"And I have a Nessa," Ebermen rebutted to surprised snort of a dragon which did not seem to appreciate what she was being volunteered for.
…You win this round.
"Freaking tin-tyrant," I scowled as I crawled my way out of bed in a fashion not unlike a vengeful spirit.
Sky grumbled in approval of escaping the most unwelcomed challenge.
I dragged myself across my chambers in a similar pace and I was so tired that I allowed the amused smiles of my staff to go unanswered.
There was a distinct lack of tension, or concern or worry. Many carried the sluggish pace of a very early morning and some were hovering around the communal tea-set while yawning.
But they had a sort of pride and triumph to them.
I was a bit uncertain as to what to do with that.
"So…" I started carefully as I half-crawled to my bathing room. "Last night went… well?"
The Bull snorted, "Nessa relayed her report to me after I awoke, I persuaded to delegate so that she might sleep. Preparations have gone well, and information should begin to relay soon."
"That is… good," I smiled carefully.
"I feel that I might add something," Ebermen continued as if it were nothing. "There are no signs of betrayal, if my word is trusted?"
There was something uncharacteristically like a reprimand in his voice and I sighed.
It is to early in the morning for this, I sighed. "You have proven your loyalty Ebermen. Just do not ask me to be reasonable."
"Unfair," The Bull observed easily. "But as you say."
As I crawled into my pool a thought occurred.
"Ebermen," I sighed.
The knight looked up from the book he was reading in his chair, "Yes?"
"The full report," I said with a defeated smile.
It was rare to see what another human being would call a genuine smile on my shield.
"Princess Rhaenyra was safely delivered to her apartments," He began with the most obvious concern.
"A maiden?" I asked dryly.
Ebermen snorted in amusement and nodded, "Kurnold and Farleaf report that she arrived unmolested."
I leaned back in the tub and nodded, Hubert the Reachman was more interested in my library than in any woman and Hubert the Westerlander was much too shy to come on to a pre-paid whore much less a vulnerable girl.
"That is good, then," I muttered. "Everything else?"
"There was some difficulty in securing access to the chambers," The Bull relayed. "The instructions of the Archmaester and the supplies however… there was a development."
I quirked a brow.
The Bull smiled, "Harper accidentally came upon a mechanism while he and Mida were seeking a suitable place."
"Oh!" My eyes positively shined at that.
I had not put any hope in actually finding them but…
"The supplies and instructions were placed beneath a stack of stray brick in an opening behind one of the dressers," The Bull was dangerously close to giving two human smiles on the same day. "Harper and Mida were reported with three stags each. Gallen passed word to Ser Joffrey."
One of the arrangements I had made to keep the wedding in order was to make sure that there would be no… awkward questions regarding the morning after.
The pair of pendants we had chosen for the job were natural choices since Nessa had relied on them a few times to collect unoffered information.
27, younger son of a reasonably well-off merchant. Primarily concerned with doing the better of his brother.
23, primarily focused on drawing the eye of a landed knight, likes puzzles.
I had thought that they were the best I had to work with, but finding one of the entrances to Maegor's dirty passages…
"See that those two begin to spend some time with Arral if they do not sell us out in two weeks," I yawned. Old madman's has a true gift for getting where he is not welcomed with making a fuss.
"Nessa made such a recommendation," The Bull shrugged.
"Woman has a talent for making me superfluous," I muttered. "And rumors?"
"Lord Commander Cole was seen departing the White Sword Tower roughly an hour passed," Ebermen frowned. "He was seen moving towards the royal apartments."
"That's a problem but not one beyond prediction," I frowned. The bastard's loyalty had the durability of wet tissue it seemed, recalling my Rhae crying made me want to drown the White Cloak in tar before covering him in feathers and feeding him to meatgrinder.
I brooded on that for a moment before realizing that Ebermen had a distinctly displeased expression, "There is something more?"
"Yes," The Bull grunted. "We were unable to stop the witness without drawing undesirable attention."
"What?" I jerked up in the tub so quickly that I ended up sliding and splashing water everywhere while trying to recover my equilibrium. R+The shield managed to ignore my reaction but the lizard had started making the choking sounds that I had learned to equate to laughter.
Witnesses?
My staff knew but everything so far seemed to indicate that any traitors were playing a longer game and Ebermen seemed to be referring to them all as one unit.
And of course, Rhaenyra's guards but they had been loyal enough not to squeal otl.
That was all of the witnesses by my count unless I was forgetting someone…
The I remembered.
I blinked a few times.
Harwyn.
"Shit," I buried my face in my hands. "Fuck all sorts of duck, I forgot the Strong."
"As you say," The Bulwer nodded. "Nessa considered elimination but deemed that the body would be too recognizable, and he returned to his apartments to quickly.
That was what was stopping you all from murder? I thought dryly. And why on earth is that heartwarming?
"We will just have to make do," I sighed. After soaking sufficiently I hauled myself out and began to get ready for the day ahead.
I never cared for weddings in my past life, mostly because I never really felt the inclination for one myself and my relatives were eager to let their objections be known. I was a romantic at heart and it did not suit me to force the issue.
The irony was not lost on me.
Ebermen walked in on me observing myself in the mirror.
"You are ready," he nodded.
I had to agree, Targaryen colours with a Hightower pin was about as neutral as I could get without painting myself black and green and finding six other boys to write the other six letters of 'neutral' on themselves. The outfit itself was fashionable by the standards of the year, a silk and lace affair fashioned with studs shaped like the dragon's head like the one I used to stamp my letters in white gold.
I looked and felt ridiculous to my tastes but I was reasonably sure it was a handsome look for Westeros.
I struggled to keep the amusement from my face as a distinctly smug-looking Milton smiled behind us, the tailor took entirely too much pride in his work sometimes. "My thanks, to both of you."
Fin bowed his from where he was already busily storied the spools and adjusting tools while Milton nearly pouted. They were a capable duo, but they got along like natural gas and a spark. It was important to balance praise between the two.
"As ready as I will ever be," I nodded as we made our way back into my central apartments where a very winded was catching a breath.
Unfortunately, no sooner was I out in my parlor than Morgan was returning with the news that Harwyn had blabbed.
This cannot possibly go well.
…
"Of all the insane shit people could possibly claim!" I fumed as I made my way to the stables to meet with the Hightower party.
Ebermen sighed, "Morgan did say that no one he had spoken to believed it."
These are the same morons whose descendents believed Sansa Stark turned into a flying wolf after poisoning Joffrey! I thundered internally. That girl wasn't qualified to open a door much less shapeshifting, flight and regicide! They are definitely stupid enough to fall for it!
"I am going to feed to moron to Sky!" The dragon hissed in agreement as she stalked behind me.
Sorry Sky, but a bit of brain damage might well be worth the vengeance. You would still be smarter than the bulk of Westeros.
Ebermen looked apathetic to my rage, "If you let your anger be seen then you will just lend the rumors credence."
"You are right," I took a deep breath and soothed my features. "I know you are but I can never forgive this world's capacity for sheer idiocy."
I could swallow a lot to survive but it galled me to see so much baseless accusation being cast on me.
Apparently Harwyn had decided to go around telling tales of my seducing my own damned sister!
That damned fool had just tossed any empathy I had for him off of a damned cliff! It was completely baseless, she was well wrapped up in her cloak! Aside from the color there was no proof!
That could have been any woman's body…
Okay I know how that sounded but that is not the point!
The nobles on the other hand? They had been suspicious for years! Any courtier or noble that was not in one of the faction's inner circles seemed bloody inclined to believe any horseshit that they spat about me! If anyone believed those rumors it would be them, if there was anyone that I did not need to alienate it was them!
To say nothing of the Castle servants, those who were not from among my staff had never been especially partial to me and the smallfolk were willing to believe anything and everything even if I spent my entire life trying to earn their good opinion.
But this was Westeros and I had little enough faith for those who I had put a great deal of personal effort into. Every farmer I had overpaid for a cow once would happily lead a lynch mob if they could somehow pin a bad harvest on me just as much as every child I had given a silver to would happily take pry the studs from my shirt after finishing me off.
"Your Grace," Lambert tapped his fingers on his hilt. "Being visibly distressed might be a problem."
"As he said," Ebermen confirmed.
Lambert, Edric and Frederick formed slightly augmented guard that day along with my Shield and Clearsky, weddings and crowds invited assassins, so I thought it best to set a trend of being more heavily guarded.
They were right however, I was visibly agitated and that was a mistake. I took a deep breath and collected myself while relaxing as much as I could.
"I am going to need to leave," I more evenly. "I cannot afford to stay here for much longer after the wedding, any damned second I spend around her is going to be freaking toxic until this all dies down."
"Agreed," Ebermen commented while nodding.
"I am also going to have to be more careful, it is not going to do me any favors to have the nobility howling for my head," I cursed.
"As you say," Ebermen nodded. "I would advise you do not let this distract you from today. As you yourself noted, many more things could go wrong."
I took a deep breath. Alright, panic later. Fix things now.
"As you say," I said with a bitter smile.
…
"Ah Gaemon!" Arral waved in greeting as the Hightower part arrived at the Red Keep. I guess that I should not have been surprised that the man had opted for a formal set of grey robes hemmed with silver thread. Not because of the quality of his garb so much as the long web of eldritch silver runes running across the garb.
He leapt off his horse with for more ease than an old man in robes should frankly be able to. "As promised I brought a proper garb for the occasion!"
You can say that twice, he wore the mask and ring of his office in addition to the long chains that wrapped around his neck and along his arm like a brace.
The metal mask may have been ill-considered of me to request. The entire thing looked like he had looted the helmet from a very grimdark Chaplain, which was to say massive Death's Head of smoky metal. The way it deepened his voice and lent it an echoing quality did not help to say the least.
Oh well compared to every other thing going wrong with this wedding that was just par for the course.
"You look positively dashing Arral!" I said genuinely, this day had gone so far sideways that I was content to just go with the maester's little eccentricities.
At least those were funny and harmless rather than depraved and all sorts of twisted.
"I know! I know! I should wear this more often!" He probably smiled.
"A great idea, Gaemon," Lymon observed dryly as he and his family dismounted. "He got rather fixated on the idea."
"Did you see his other idea?" I asked with a raised brow.
"Oh I am aware," Lymon chuckled. "Were my lady with us she might well strangle him in a rage."
"Lady Hightower? Never! She was quite brilliant! More so than even you!" Arral said indignantly.
Lymon smiled fondly, "Without a doubt."
"And you wore my own gift! Good form!" Arral clapped his hands.
I almost forgot that my guards were wearing Arral's version of a gift, which I had completely forgotten about in my anxiety.
Ebermen and the others were wearing what was called a visored barbute in my world, finely crafted things which Arral claimed had been inspired by the helms in the tombs. The frills had been removed due to the Ironborn sorcerer seeming to loath anything that could catch a blade and the visor added in the Westerosi style. The most fearsome feature was the visors themselves which were engraved to resemble my stamp. A childish part of me was rather pleased by the way the metal forming the teeth had been whitened along their jaws.
"It was a lovely gift," I shrugged.
"Finally!" Arral clasped his waist triumphantly. "Your maternal kin never wear the things I make them!"
"Because you never wish to adjust the size," Lymon rolled his eyes. "And all that taking them to anyone else does is to ruin the work."
"Of course, I will not adjust it!" Arral gasped while pointing to Garth as he dismounted from his pony, the smaller boy froze like a gazelle. "One has to account for a size and a number of other considerations that would ruin its use! Useless I say! I do not know why you never just ask for another suit!"
Lymon starred at him for a moment before sighing and I realized that Arral had probably never even implied that doing so was an option.
"We will have words about this," Lymon said dryly.
As the rest of the party prepared to head into the Keep to present themselves to the king before heading to the feast proper.
Such was the right of the disproportionately powerful house which also happened to be in-laws, they got to go in with the important people.
As we made our way into the Keep, I realized that I was getting stares of the worst order, ranging from disdain to amusement. On occasion some of the servants without pendants would give me a look of sympathy.
At least none of their stares lasted my own or those of my guards.
You would think that my damned dragon would be a bigger turn-off than a child or a man wearing a dragon's face, I noted idly as Clearsky followed along.
That was something at least.
As we made our way into the throne room, I saw that it was stuffed as usual with well-wishers from most of the kingdoms.
I ignored any possible looks as we made our way to the front of the line behind the Great House delegations present (I saw hawks, lions, stags, roses and trouts) so I was a little miffed.
If it was not for the scandal (which I hoped against all reason that they would ignore) and my job today I would be leaping at the networking opportunity.
On the bright side having Sky on our tail did the job of giving quite the impression as the courtiers took an unconscious step away from me and her, she must have sensed my earlier annoyance as she raised herself and made herself visibly more reactive.
By my reckoning, you are less likely to say blatant lies when the accused is in hearing distance and next to a living flamethrower whose eye were now following in line with my own.
When we finally came before the throne I got a good look at everyone so that I could get some impressions on the extent of the damage.
…it could be worse?
Viserys looked to be in a rather good mood actually. Probably at his perceived success to get his daughter hitched. He was perched on the throne and doing his best to treat it as a recliner, seeming completely unbothered by the bed of blades which contrasted oddly with the soft appearance of his titanic form.
Alicent, at the foot of the throne however looked distinctly irked.
She was all smiles as usual and lovely but that brilliant smile did not reach her eyes, they softened as they came down on me though, so I doubted she believed the current rumor. I could safely wager that she was probably just irked at the proceedings and the potential boon the marriage could be to the Blacks.
For her part Rhaenyra looked positively blinding in how positive she was looking this morning. Like I got the weirdest impression that she was actually glowing. In her elaborate snow-white dress decked out in a veritable ton of priceless gems (rubies and onyx of course) and looking like she was just waiting for the chance to get on that one spot on the Titanic with Leonardo DiCaprio.
That does not add up.
She had been a mess the last night, I was glad to see her looking so damned happy, but a quick peptalk should not have her brimming.
The fact that she smiled even wider and more brightly when she laid eyes on me did not exactly add to my comfort level.
Something was not right, and it was making my teeth itch.
Especially because she was doing a hell of a lot to add to the damned rumor mill by being so painfully conductive to the narrative Harwyn had proposed.
At least she did not look like a miserable bride which would at least help out with those few neutrals that did not think I could literally spit fire.
Speaking of brides, the Velaryons were standing close to the throne in honour of their place as the family of the soon to be 'prince consort'. If nothing else at least Laenor did not look a hint like the sort of man that should be angered that day.
His hair was tied up into a tail in a manner that seemed to make his thin features seem thicker, stronger and harder.
Which matched the straight manner in which he stood with a sword strapped to one side and a dragon-riders whip to other.
He was smiling but he seemed to be broadcasting 'I have a dragon and I will have it eat you if you anger me today' at full volume.
Good, he at least was sticking to the plan even if I would wager all the gold in Casterly Rock that Joffrey had to practice with him. Despite the man's title and how he showed up in the otl, I knew well enough that the Knight of Kisses was not exactly the sort of man one taunted to his face.
It was sort of funny however, Laenor was absent-minded and not terribly subtle.
He was gay and was only decent with a sword.
But he had a dragon which was one of the bigger tamed ones, obeyed him quite readily and I had it on good word that he was surprisingly problematic with a whip.
Add that with his wealth, resources and genius.
What kind of fucking idiot would be giving him the disdainful look half of these morons are giving him? I sighed. I was beginning to suspect that a downside of Jaehaerys's reign was that people were not sufficiently respectful of what having a dragon meant unless the beast was making itself highly visible.
I was beginning to hope that I might persuade Laenor to more… readily embrace his potential to generate fear.
At least he was making a habit out of starring down anyone who met his scanning looks, which was a start.
Rhaenys looked like she was about to start preening in joy and pride at the intimidating figure her son was cutting, I did not know where she fell on the matter of her preferences but the Queen Who Never Was did not strike me as a 'my son can be weak' type. She herself was standing next to her husband in a dress that was frankly making me revisit my views of cougars.
Now is not the time for drool! I reprimanded myself.
Unsurprisingly her husband was also there and making me question a completely separate set of matters. He looked every bit the lord but sweet bat a man in his early-sixties had no right to be that hot.
Frankly, the only person that seemed to be visibly upset was the Lord Commander. He seemed to be standing expressionlessly still but I had known the man and watched him for years. Every freaking inch of his stance made it clear that he was brimming with hostility at everyone and everything.
Well him and Otto, but screw Otto!
I knew that was trouble but my smile became a little more genuine as I pictured his delicate heart shattering and the resulting shrapnel breaking its way free in a fashion akin to a chest-burster.
By the time I was done surveying the room Lymon had finished with his greetings and Viserys had turned his attention towards me.
"Rise, my son," Viserys commanded and I obeyed.
"Greetings your grace," I bowed as best I could in greeting.
Viserys kept his expression suitably happy, "Tell us of your time in Oldtown."
"Lord Lymon had been a most gracious host, your grace. I must thank you for selecting such a worthy lord for me to learn under," I kept my smile up with every word.
It was the truth Lymon was a good and competent man. I found it endlessly odd that he did not spontaneously combust when coming into contact with the miasma of incompetence. The man himself currently looked immaculately pleasant, his face in a controlled smile while he looked lordlier than most of the others present in my own opinion.
"That is most pleasing to hear," Viserys continued. "It trust that you are doing well in your studies as well and you have even brought an Archmaester to this wonderful day."
My spine stiffened as he moved his attention to Arral.
"Archmaester Arral, it is a rare privilege for one of your august rank to leave the comforts of the Citadel," He said complimentarily.
Arral raised his head and starred straight into Viserys's eyes with his own (maybe, it was hard to see past the deathmask, "The privilege is mine to be allowed to attend! I am grateful to see this union of Valyrian blood! Under the auspices of your house the kingdoms have shared a peace and prosperity unmatched in the annals! If you would take the word of this old man, I pray that your house rule for an eternity more!"
That got nods of approval by the court.
WHAT?! I did not even know you understand how normal dialogue works! How the hell was he capable of so eloquently kissing the arse of that fool?
Then I recalled something.
The dark arts have their price Gaemon! Forget sorcery, the kissing of arse needed to secure funding for even a simple expedition! It requires one to wear one's lips bloody! Most unpleasant! Sacrificing a few pints of blood while doing a dance is far less humiliating! And less painful!
I suppressed a chuckle. So he was trying to butter the king up for something. Clever old madman.
I wondered how I forgot about that?
Then another memory came.
Now as the benefits of bloodletting directly from the phal- I immediately repressed that particular memory.
"We thank you for your wise words," Viserys said diplomatically before turning his eyes back to me, beside me Clearksy instinctively bowed her head and edged herself closer to me. "If it is acceptable to you, my lord of Hightower, would you be able to return my son to me for the duration of the feast? I would have him back for this little while."
He was saying it because of the occasion, it would be unseemly to keep me away when under this much scrutiny.
That and mother would probably make him sleep on the proverbial couch for a month.
"Of course, your grace," Lymon nodded. "Although I will miss the company of my page I would not stand between father and son."
"We thank you," Viserys nodded. "However, I would not have the cousin of our own beloved queen away from us. Please, join us at the high table."
Viserys, you colossal moron. From the way the entire room tensed I could tell how well his idea of being intelligent was going to go.
"I would not dream of imposing upon your grace," Lymon said quickly. Composed as ever but from his tense shoulders I could tell that he meant 'can I not just cleave off my face instead? It would be comparably less unpleasant.'
"Nonsense! We insist!" Viserys said with a magnanimously while slightly straightening his posture and reminding me idly how big the man was.
This wedding was off to a positively wonderful start.