Chapter Twenty Seven: A Freaking Westerosi Wedding, Part Five.
Twenty Second Day of the Eleven Month, 113 AC.
I like symbolism as much as the next guy but conducting the wedding in the Dragonpit seemed a bit less like tapping into the whole 'draconic imagery' thing and more like violently bludgeoning everyone present over the head with it.
At least they had spruced up the place rather nicely, no piles of waste anywhere and the stone floors were positively sparkling.
Combine that with the light coming in through the wide windows of the dome and the massive banners hanging from the walls actually made the place rather pleasant if one ignored the copious amount of death-machines surrounding the proceedings.
It said volumes as to how absolutely massive the structure was that most of the guests who easily numbered in the hundreds could stand comfortably while not being within twenty steps of any of the gates.
I stared with no great amount of interest at the proceedings, I was not really all that interested in the copious amounts of drivel that the High Septon was spouting.
Nothing personal and I was saying all of the lines but along with the rest of the crowd but I had studied religions quite a bit in my past life and compared to all those? The Faith of the Seven seemed sort of flat to say the very least.
They simply did not contribute much beyond banning slavery and justifying invading and butchering a continent.
Or at least that was the version being spouted out, the simple truth of the matter was that just actually reading some of the devotional works and the complete version of the Seven-Pointed Star was as lovely an experience as any of the more academic interpretations of holy texts in my own world.
The trouble was that Westerosi nobility had a painfully loose grasp on literacy in general and honestly far less of a theological interest than any similar group in my own world. They were like the most derogatory and misinformed notions of how European nobility functioned cranked up to eleven more often than not. Completely divorced from the genuine faith and spiritual concerns which so-heavily informed the lives of almost every tier of traditional European society into something that even Marx himself would have found outright offensive.
That the people actually needed something as dumbed-down as the version of the sacred texts that was being shouted by the half-senile old man actually risked inducing a depression.
So, I opted to refocuse my interest as to the audience as the ceremony moved past the nihilism-inducing truth about quite a few of them.
Everyone was looking as touched as they propriety demanded, it was annoying enough that to try to read people I was familiar with much less a bunch of lords and ladies who I knew nothing about and were well trained to restrain their emotions.
At least they knew how to be two-faced properly.
There were exceptions such as the beef-headed heir to Storm's End who just looked disinterested, I guessed he had yet to decide that selling off his daughters as breeding mares was an acceptable way to go about parenting. Others like the northerners and the few who kept the Old Gods looked distinctly uncomfortable, but I doubted that had anything to do with who was getting married so much as the entire ceremony.
I particularly eyed the young boy to the right of the grey-bearded Stark Lord, no older than me by my wager (maybe even a year younger) and plain save for his surprisingly bright eyes. Cregan Stark did not look anywhere near as dangerous as I had read that he was, granted few children are.
If being plain in every appearance was at all an indicator of threat, then I suppose you might have been able to dismiss him but I knew better.
No offense, I apologized to the young boy silently. But I truly hope that you are a bit louder in your support this time.
He might have had a crucial role in the late Dance, but things might have not come to violence so quickly if among other things (like fratricide), the Northerners were slower than their tree-gods.
Speaking of Old Gods and their worshippers, one woman among the Vale delegation had caught my attention.
It was an easy guess as to her identity from her slate-grey eyes, her dark brown hair which reached her shoulders with her bangs arranged pinned up with bronze hairpins. Combined with her bronze dress and her position close to my step-cousin from the Vale made me fairly certain who she was.
I guessed Rhea Royce had no choice but to attend the wedding, she was a high-lady of a considerable family with nowhere near the distance necessary to avoid the occasion. I could guess from her carefully neutral expression that she would rather be testing how quickly she could make it down the Eyrie via Moon Door than attending the wedding of the favorite niece of the man who made her life a constant humiliation.
Seeing her in person made me want to castrate the cocky son of a Margery.
She was freaking smoking.
Twenty-Eight at most and attractive in a stern fashion with a trim figure crossed with a way of carrying herself that made it clear that she was not exactly the most spineless woman on the continent (which, of course, would be Cole).
In the Vale the men fuck sheep, you cannot fault them. Their sheep are prettier than their women.
What sort of stuff was he taking and where could I get some? If that was ugly to him then he was either blind, brain-damaged or really did not like brunettes or women that seemed to radiate 'I have Valyrian Steel for a spine.'
I was starring for too long because her eyes drifted to meet mine for a moment.
I smiled brightly but all that did was deepen her frown, she did not look away though. She kept her eyes locked on mine as if daring me to look away.
I sighed internally, why is everyone on this continent obsessed with petty victories?
Granted, I was hardly an exception since I did not so much as blink, I was petty enough that I would not be giving up so easily. I was perhaps enjoying it a bit too much because my smile was showing a little more teeth than it probably should have.
Eventually her frown turned to a small grin and she nodded back.
Either she is smiling at my spine or smiling from the thought of ripping it out, I considered while returning the gesture.
As I moved on from her, I made a mental note adding her to my list of people that I needed to speak with at the feast. She seemed interesting enough and if getting on speaking terms with her could be very useful for my goal of crippling Daemon's ability to further screw with my life.
The 'King' arrived with Rhaenyra not long after and I quickly realized the point of the location in part as the handlers hurried to strengthen the chains while actually opening the gates to the pens, I heard everyone take a collective step as Viserys strode in unconcerned.
Then I remembered that I had never actually seen Viserys step into the Dragon Pit himself.
Most of the dragons which had been hovering near the gates with interest came to life in a most unexpected fashion.
Scarlet Meleys, Yellow-Green Syrax and Laenors dragon Seasmoke did not move forward.
They actually moved back warily from the king's approach, the dragon making small sounds more akin to mews than hisses which coiling their heads back against their necks as if to show deference.
Even Clearsky coiled closer to me.
Alright, I take it back, I admitted begrudgingly as Viserys accompanied my Rhae to the altar. Reminding the nobility that the foodchain goes them, then the murder-lizards, then you is a pretty image to drive into the nobility.
I spotted Arral eagerly scribbling notes while looking at the king. It was no great mystery to anyone that knew a great deal about dragons that the creatures seemed to have a great difficulty differentiating between a dragon and its rider. A dragon would happily dominate a smaller dragon, would comfortably pick a fight with one of a similar size, they did not even shy away from fighting a bigger beast.
Only training and the smell of their rider's fear would make one suicidal enough to try and make a showing (much less actually fight), something along the lines of Balerion the Black 'PvP is my favorite hobby' Dread.
Dragons were largely fearless beasts, that did not make them idiots even if you fed them a small army's worth of human flesh.
Granted, thinking anymore about anything that gave Viserys credit made me a bit queasy, so I put that to the back of my head as I refocused on the 'couple' exchanging their vows.
Rhaenyra had swapped to white dress richly ornamented with small snow-white dragons racing across the dress chased in diamonds while Laenor looked much the same except for titanic and richly made cloak which I imagined would soon be over my sister's shoulders.
As they finished their oaths and kissed, everyone clapped and shouted their congratulations as was the custom.
I gave Laenor points for not shying away from it and to Joffrey for looking every bit like the happy well-wisher in the audience.
After that the party followed the couple through the city and into the Keep's central courtyard where the feast proper was to be held.
Smallfolk lined the streets, throwing flowers as was the custom and cheering for the heir and her new consort.
Or getting eye-fulls so that they could begin their rumor-mongering.
It surprises me that that the armsmen and Goldcloaks were doing such a fine job at keeping the people backed up though.
Even if it was probably due to the simple fact that the Goldcloaks would probably be more than happy to cut them down.
I was more than a little amused that some of the children were shouting 'Clearsky' happily and more amused that the dragon very deliberately stopped by and very visible soaked in the praise. It was hilarious to see a dragon strutting.
Not that I doubted that they would kill her in an instant if they could figure out how to.
…
As we watched a horde of birds escape from the wedding pie a thought occurred to me.
I am not going to eat a pie which had had living animals crammed into for who knows how many hours. Also, I just could not trust any meat-based pastry since I am living in the same world where 'Frey Pies' might someday be a thing. Forget the morality of the matter, if you think about the average Westerosi diet it would be comparably healthier to eat a poisoned rat.
My thoughts regarding the hazards of animal waste and human flesh in pies were interrupted as the first of the verbal shivs started flying.
You could very much guess the affiliation of each group that came to offer their congratulations based on what section of the table they avoided mentioning as much as possible.
In my humble opinion, it was making the entire thing about as comfortable as pulling nails.
I guessed that everyone was still conscious of Viserys's spectacle, because the people actually at the table was attempting to say a pleasantry or two to the other side to avoid drawing the ire of the king.
"You look most handsome today, Ser Laenor." Mother smiled up from her plate.
Laenor smiled back rather genuinely, about the only person at the table that did not become tenser. "My thanks, Queen Alicent."
"Oh, think nothing of it," she smiled back sweetly.
After each line the table lapsed back into awkward silence as I contemplated how to make this conversation livelier until someone from the 'green' side of the table brought up a subject that most anyone present could speak to.
"This is marvelous!" Arral said as he finished sneaking the entirety of his meal into his mask. "So many dragon riders in a single place!"
That eased up the mood on the Black side a little as no one was quite sure how to respond to that.
"And that display! I must ask! It would be a shame not to! Your grace, you were the last rider of the Black Dread itself! Would you mind if I ask a quick question or two?" The Archmaester ignored the mood rather well.
The king raised a brow as he took a deep drink from his goblet. It was only for a moment, but his face darkened enough that I expected him to become wroth but instead he gave a quick and somewhat exhausted nod.
"I see no harm in it," he tried to sound magnanimously but there was something tired about his features. "After the feast, mayhaps."
"Of course!" The death-faced ironborn nodded enthusiastically. "Were you all aware that it was the custom in Old Valyria to celebrate a wedding with a dance of dragons?"
I blinked a few times at the choice in words.
I really wished he had worded that differently.
"A dance of dragons?" Rhaenys asked from across the table.
"Yes," Arral nodded. "The custom on the occasion that different bloodlines of a house were to marry then each would bring seven dragons to the festivities! One for each face of a god while the union represented the fourteen themselves! Aerial performances were held where each branch competed against the other to establish who would hold dominance in the marriage!"
Rhaenys laughed, "If the entirety of Westeros could muster fourteen dragons, we would not be holding weddings as like we would be halfway through conquering Essos!"
That got laughter and nods from most of the table as the conversation descended into the universally popular subject of dragons. Well not universally popular but I considered getting Rhaenys, Laenor, Alicent, Arral, Lymon and even Aegon talking about the same subject without a great deal of hostility was a plus.
As the feast went on I sneaked my way off the table and decided to join in the festivities in my own way.
It was time to try for networking.
"Bringing Arral was a good thing," I sighed as I walked away with Ebermen at my back. "Out of all things, that is what goes to plan."
Ebermen sounded his equivalent of amused, "As you say."
My guards made a handsome compliment around us with their distinct helms as we moved through the mass of nobility, close enough to intercept daggers from said nobility.
"The soul of wisdom," I rolled my eyes as we made our way to the Arryn table.
As expected the people here were not altogether that welcoming, the guards looked a bit tense as I approached with my living flamethrower and armed and armoured guard.
"Lady Arryn!" I greet happily as I stopped before the Lady of the Vale. "It is good to see you, I fear that I was a far too young to offer a proper greeting when last we met."
The young Jeyne Arryn was in her late teens and looked a bright girl, all smiles and bubbly conversation with the courtiers that surrounded her long table in the heart of the Arryn section.
"Prince Gaemon!" She toasted me as she from her seat even as quite a few of her surrounding people were not giving me the kindest look. "I fear that you are still rather young to share a toast! But I welcome you nonetheless!"
"I am most grateful, although in truth I was hoping to greet my aunt Lady Royce as well," I bow again to Rhea who was seated to Jeyne's right.
Said Royce raised a brow at my greeting, "I am surprised that I am still held to be related to your house."
Alright, blunt. Not that she was in the wrong, but still.
I smiled at her and stretched my arms, "Well, I cannot speak for the entirety of my house, but rest assured that most of us hold marriage ties as significant."
She smiled ever so slightly.
Alright, more like a faint upwards twitch on the corners of her lips but it was something.
"It makes me happy to see that some of the dragons hold on to their honor," she said flatly. "Although some would consider it damning that it comes from a young boy while the men grown are not quite as apt to show it."
Alrigh,t the hostility is understandable but it's really not my fault.
"Please my lady," I smiled. "Do not think that we are all so… shall we say, shameful?"
I had no problems whatsoever with throwing that horny prick off the proverbial cliff if it helped my cause. I would even throw a boulder/Cole down after him to make sure he was dead.
"Is that so?" She asked with one side of her mouth being pulled ever so slightly up.
"For one thing," I smirked. "The fact that I knew so little of your beauty is already a true shame."
She brought a hand to mouth and coughed into it to cover her chuckling, "Well, I must say that I am not told such often."
"See Rhea?" Jeyne laughed. "He is as much the little charmer as the rumors say!"
My smile faltered slightly, "I would merely say that even a child such as I can see the obvious. It is our privilege to speak our minds, is it not?"
I did not need that little venture to blow up in my face, so I did not need the graverobber implication. It was obviously a joke, but I could not really afford to allow those in my present situation.
"Very true!" The Arryn toasted with a laugh.
I spoke with them a little more before excusing myself, mostly arranging to sit down and speak with my aunt and lady Arryn later during the two weeks of the festivities.
As I walked away towards my next target I quietly spoke to my Bull.
"What do you think?" I asked.
The clinks of a shrug, "It does you no harm to garner good will beyond the Reach and the Crownlands."
"My thoughts exactly," I chuckled as I made my way to one of the youths drinking while starring off into the Narrow Sea.
"Ser Joffrey," I greeted happily.
He toasted with a slight smile of his own, "Prince Gaemon."
I met his toast before settling down to business.
"We have an issue," I sighed.
"You mean the rumors?" Joffrey asked more quietly.
I nodded, the Knight of Kisses struck me as exceedingly sharp if somewhat short-tempered. I hoped that keeping him in one piece would help him keep Laenor from running off the PR cliff.
"Laenor dismissed them," Joffrey shrugged as if to say that it mattered little either way. "Is there any truth to them?"
"No truth to the more impossible rumors," I rolled my eyes but met his tone. "Rhaenyra was as unhappy with the prospects of the marriage as Laenor, she had begun to behave foolishly before I was able to interfere."
Joffrey digested that. "Will it be a problem?"
"I think not," I shrugged. "I stopped her before she could do anything… unwise. If Laenor presents our notion during the bedding as planned, I do not predict any difficulties."
Joffrey sighed, "That is good then, your man passed along the information."
"We were luckier than expected," I waved him off.
"Luckier?" Joffrey said dryly. "You are not the one whose duty it was to dissuade him from exploring the tunnels."
I could not help but snort while he finished his drink before looking down at me.
"That is good then," he nodded, he raised his tone and spoke more happily. "Enjoy the feast my prince."
We walked off towards the High Speton next.
"Things proceed well so far," Ebermen said.
"And very secretly," Lambert pointed out. "Lies tend to be a problem when you stack them too high."
"And you are just too much of a worrier," Frederick chuckled at the younger man, he was not wrong in that Lambert was somewhat cautious.
But.
"I have to agree with Lambert on this." I rolled my shoulders, "It may seem as things are going to plan so far, but I am not so certain."
"Explain," Ebermen asked.
I looked up at his with an arched brow, "When do things ever go according to plan?"
"As you say," the Bull acknowledged while the guard echoed him to my amusement.
Almost on que I ran into Rhaenys Velaryon.
"Gaemon! Here you are lad!" She smiled.
I raised a brow, she should be at the table.
"Lady Rhaenys!" I smiled. "Should you separate yourself from your son today?
She snorted.
"I have been ready for him to go on with his life for years! Corlys was half way to Yi Ti when he was six and ten!" She smiled. "Besides I had been hoping to speak with you more privately."
…Why? Privacy is not your strong suit and you are not exactly a frequent harbinger of good news in my life.
"Another time perhaps," I said diplomatically. "I was hoping to have some words with the High Septon."
"Nonsense!" She said happily as she clasped one hand on my shoulder and more or less dragged me away with Sky and Bulwer tailing behind, with my guard behind them. I could not exactly fault any of them for not objecting, Rhaenys was sort of a difficult figure to interact with.
She was also not a 'knife' type. If Rhaenys Velaryon wanted to kill you, she would be yelling it from a few leagues away.
Finding a quieter corner of the courtyard she stopped and let go of me.
"Lad," she said bluntly. "You have left me in an awkward position."
I crossed my arms and met her stare.
"I cannot imagine how, Rhaenys," I did not mince words, it was typically not that useful for me to try prancing around the subject with her.
She also did not seem in the least bit concerned with the five listeners.
The Queen Who Never Was crossed her arms, "You told Laenor."
Why was I not surprised he told his mother? I guess Joffrey could not restrain him at all times and I had primed him.
Laenor had been… displeased with the news. Displeased in a very 'I am going to kill everything between me and him' sort of way which I had slightly miscalculated on.
"It was his right to know," I said evenly. "Does Corlys know?"
"Seven, no!" She sounded exhausted. "Telling him would just get him killed on those wretched rocks. I love my man but he is no Serwyn of the Mirror Shield and I don't much fancy going by 'Rhaenys, wife of that pile of ashes, bones and dragon shit."
"Then I do not see the problem," I said simply. "Laenor will not engage directly against Daemon."
Her eyes narrowed, "Gods, boy. What are you intending?"
"My survival of course," I shrugged. "And that of my family."
She shook her head, "I understand that Daemon has put us all in an awkward position, but I hope you don't plan on some brave but fool plan."
Considering that I am lying to you, I do not think that I am doing anything foolish. I merely made Laenor aware that Daemon just wanted the throne and that his sister had been nothing but a pawn in his game to seduce Rhaenyra. It was even the truth from a certain point of view.
What better way to undermine him than blocking him off from his ideal bride?
That along with Joffrey and Arral's timely arrival (and knowledge of pressure points) had settled Laenor.
"Nothing of the sort," I smiled. "I am merely being careful."
She passed a hand through her hair while putting another hand to her waist, "To think that I feared marrying my daughter to a child, now I fear I am wedding her to some old man."
Well you are not wrong per se. In any case.
"As long as we are speaking privately," I suggested. "Why do you still insist on speaking of me and Laena? We both know that it is not happening."
Rhaenys looked… strangely disappointed. "Surely you are not going to shame her over a mistake of youth. Hold on, I said that wrong. She stepped in the shit but we both know that is not the greatest thing. Way I see it, she is still bringing more to this marriage than just about any girl can offer you."
I raised a brow, she was pushing entirely for an arrangement with 'goods' that we both knew she did not have. Laena was great on paper: money, influence, hot, dragon, etc.
The rub was that in practice that meant getting into a quarrel with Daemon 'I can probably bitch-slap a dragon and live to tell of it' Targaryen and even more importantly, they did not have Laena.
"We both know that it is not that simple," I sighed while deciding to drop another hint. "She is not even here."
"Well, you cannot blame her for having caught a damned cold," Rhaenys shrugged. "If it troubles you so much I can make her crawl out of bed and come tell you herself!"
Despite myself I chuckled, "Come now Rhaenys, we both know that is a terrible excuse."
Rhaenys raised a brow, "What do you me-"
We were interrupted by jubilant shouting as the bedding ceremony began.