Chapter Twenty Nine: A Freaking Westerosi Wedding, Part Seven.

Twenty Third Day of the Eleven Month, 113 AC.

Sip.

Thank god I decided to bring some tea with me to the wedding.

Sip.

It really REALLY helps to even me out in the morning.

Sip.

Especially during hard mornings.

Sip.

Like mornings that begin with a notice that the culmination of all of those dreams looks suspiciously like ritual suicide.

Sip.

And then be informed that I have company at a truly ungodly hour.

Sip.

"Gaem?" Rhaenyra asked from her seat on one of the couches in my study. "You seem unwell."

…Sip.

"Last night was rather unfortunate," I said softly between sips before remembering that I should not be quite so forthcoming with information.

Joffrey raised a brow from where he sat next to Laenor, "Are you certain? I would say that the wedding went as well as could be hoped."

I sighed after I went for another sip and realized my cup was empty.

Before speaking, I surveyed the three intruders that had so cruelly assaulted my need to recover from crazy magic-shit.

A drip of vague information might be a good motivator, I thought.

"Not the wedding," I tapped the side of my head. "My dreams were rather intense last night."

"Your dreams?" Joffrey asked as he scratched his clean-shaven jaw.

Laenor piped up with interest, "Was it one of your 'dragon dreams'?"

"I guess that I should not be surprised that Rhaenys did not keep that one a secret," I sighed as one of my people refilled my cup.

Rhaenyra smiled a bit sheepishly, "Almost everyone in the court knows that they are constant, Gaem."

Huh, well that's disappointing. That I had strange dreams like the Dreamer was common knowledge but that they were a nightly occurrence should not have been common knowledge.

Granted, most of the nobles thought the whole business was nonsense and that I was just an inordinately gifted child.

Which was better than some of the lunacy that less charitable interpretations went into.

Half the peasentry probably swallowed every bit of waste some bard or two were paid to spew.

"In any case," I said while sipping my once more refilled cup while one of my serving boys retreated back to the wall. "I do hope that all of you made sure not to be followed before interrupting my attempts at sleep?"

Frankly had it not been those particular morons intruding on my sleep, I would have told Ebermen to chase off whoever was bothering me with a pitchfork.

Laenor chuckled at that, he seemed in a better mood at least. Distinctly less agitated. "Well it could not be helped! Rhaenyra was quite adamant on speaking with you on the details of your plan."

"Is that so?" My eyes moved slowly to my Rhae, the apparent mastermind of the unholy attack on my hard-earned rest. "Did Laenor fail to explain the plan?"

"I most certainly did not!" Laenor said with a vaguely indignant expression. I allowed myself to breath out chuckle at the Velaryon heir, despite everything else, the man was oddly endearing.

But the humor lasted only a moment before my annoyance reasserted itself.

I had instructed Laenor to speak with Rhaenyra after the bedding once a sufficient number of groans and grunts were said within ease dropping range. Given that that apparently happened I regretted not for the first time that I lacked some sort of recording device as I would murder to witness that particular scene.

He was to clearly present his situation to Rhaenyra, state that he had a plan for them to lead as tolerable a life as possible despite their mutually unhappy circumstances and to form an alliance of sorts for mutual profit.

There were even arrangements to seal the pact in blood… well not there blood of course. Harper and Mida had deposited a few vials of blood and the tools to ensure their credulity in the Maegor-hole.

That the work was so thoroughly ruined after I had thought it successful was a bit of a letdown.

Blood had been on the bed and the two had made a good show of huffing and puffing (so to speak).

"I do recall asking you to not mention that this was in fact my plan," I used the teacup to keep myself from scowling.

Laenor had the decency to flush a bit and offer an apologetic shrug while Joffrey gave the official facepalm of the dedicated 'Cloudcuckoolander's Minder'.

Truly a noble profession, for it promised nothing but the gradual degradation of one's sanity. Laenor was a sweet kid but by the Earthbone was he slow sometimes.

By the Earthbone, I repeated with a strange sort of dread.

"Why would you hide your involvement?" Rhaenyra asked, pulling me from something akin to existential fear.

I sipped to collect myself before responding, "'Your brother suggested we get you pregnant by another man' does not sound terribly good now does it?"

"If it sounds so awful then why would you suggest it?" Rhaenyra asked.

"Because as I have said before, I care about you," almost as much as I care about my own hide. "And I felt that this plan offers everyone involved a chance to not have a completely hellish existence."

Rhaenyra snorted.

"Regardless," I continued. "I take the presence of everyone here as a sign that everyone is in agreement?"

"To a degree," Rhaenyra said. "I am not completely aware of the plan."

My eyes rolled back to Laenor, narrowing in the process. "Why?"

"She insisted that you explain the plan," Joffrey answered instead. "I assure you that I was surprised when I heard as well."

One job Laenor, I gave you one job. If you were not so oddly likable I would duck-tape you to a wall until I had tattooed a detailed set of instructions onto your body. Then I would the same to Cole before flaying him to prevent my plans from being leaked.

"What exactly did you not understand Rhae?" I asked my sister as I took another sip.

Rhaenyra crossed her arms, "You propose that I give birth to bastards of a man who I would select purely by virtue of his looks?"

She looked mildly offended by the statement, which I found odd to say the least. You were dry-humping Harwyn's leg by this point in another timeline, rather surprised it bother you at all.

"I am sorry Rhaenyra but last I checked not many in Westeros reliably carry our eyes and hair. It would be a steep wager to gamble on the children taking after you," I explained patiently.

Rhaenyra's frown deepened, "It does not suit me to find myself in the role of some mare expected to be mounted by whatever stud happens to carry the proper coat."

I winced internally, that was a harsh if not inaccurate way of saying it.

"It is not too different from what we are being asked to do now," Laenor said evenly. "People like to breed for desirable traits or wealth do they not? We do the same to animals, so it is nothing to complain about. We might not even be in this spot were it not for the wealth business."

I could sympathize with Joffrey's facepalm. Not really helping Laenor.

"It is hardly the same," Rhaenyra said testily. "It is a simple thing for a man to take the risk of a bastard, it is quite another for a woman!"

"A man with bastards pays a price as well, princess," Joffrey said with a frown of his own. "It costs us in honor."

Rhaenyra snorted, "Honor? That is a currency that only exists when a knight decides it does."

I guess someone is still salty about Cole. I made a mental note to poor some salt in Criston's wounds after I (by which I meant the very large and strong people I someday hope to command) create them.

Noticing the dry look on Joffrey's face, I spoke up. "Rhae! If we are to be allies in this, it does not do you any service to denigrate those of us who bare the title."

Rhaenyra eyed Joffrey for a moment before snorting and taking a sip of her own drink. It did not say great things about the notions of nobility that they seemed largely ignorant of the guards and waitstaff which surrounded us.

Granted, all of them were pendants and half-asleep from the rather hectic past few days but the trio had no way of knowing that.

"I can tell that we will all get on wonderfully!" Laenor said with a happy smile as he imitated Rhaenyra's action.

"My princess," Joffrey said evenly after Rhae had cooled down. "I apologies for whatever another knight may have done to earn us such a foul impression. However, I ask you to see this as an opportunity to find some measure of happiness."

"Were it so simple, I would happily agree," Rhaenyra sighed. "You will forgive me if I find this entire proposal hard to swallow."

I weighed my options before asking, "Rhae, perhaps you could wait?"

"For what Gaem?" Rhaenyra tilted her head but I was surprised to see her expression brighten.

Did she already predict that I would say this? I wondered in some confusion.

I shrugged, "I am not telling you to buy some Lyseni boy tonight and ride him into the morning. Look around on Dragonstone and Driftmark, there are plenty of Dragonseeds. Maybe you can find one who is reliable and handsome enough to draw your eye."

"I am in no great hurry," Laenor added.

Rhaenyra looked at me in consideration for a while, "You said that you would always be with me."

"I did," I nodded. The fact that I am going through so much trouble should more than confirm that.

She nodded, "Very well. I will wait for the man worthy to be the father to my children."

That was suspiciously easy, but I could not really afford to check that gift horse.

I nodded, good. Glad to see that no one felt like contributing to the horror of my night.

"Anything else you forgot to mention?" I asked Laenor, I would rather go to sleep without any potential landmines going off.

"I do not think so-" Laenor started when Joffrey cut him off.

"Did you mention the issue of names?" It was becoming increasingly apparent who wore the pants in that relationship.

"Oh?" Laenor said before blinking. "No, I fear that it was lost in the discussion."

"What matter?" Rhaenyra asked.

"Laenor is the heir to Driftmark," I noted. "He must have a Velaryon heir."

"Of course," Rhaenyra said. "If I do bare children, then they shall bare his name."

"Therein lies the issue," Joffrey said.

"I have broached the subject with them already, but I do not suppose that you had time to read through Gillard's work?" When she shook her head, I sighed. Why go through the effort of giving people books at all?

"I've only had time to look over the one on birthing," she smiled sheepishly.

I tried to keep my smile and nodded, "Gillard makes the point regarding transitions along the maternal line in order to preserve stability. Your firstborn will be at a risk of destabilizing our legitimacy if he does not bare the Targaryen name."

"Would Lord Corlys not be offended?" Rhaenyra asked Laenor.

He shrugged, "Oh I am quite sure that he will raise a fuss, but it is hardly unprecedented, apparently."

"Far from it," Joffrey added impatiently. "Any sufficiently Andal compromise we can offer the realm will win us goodwill."

Good, at least some of them were starting to think in terms of 'we' which hopefully meant that they would not screw me over horrendously with their gross incompetence.

I let them start working things out for a little but before kicking them out of my room so that they could go scheme where they would not be costing me my sleep.

As I returned to my room I sighed, "What do you think?"

Ebermen had stood through the entire thing with no comment and Nessa was probably already buried in a pile of ledgers.

"I think they understand the value of your proposal," he noted. "Whether that translates to appropriate action, that is difficult to predict."

"I know," I sighed. "Relying on the competence of others is difficult."

"As you say," he said calmly.

I crawled back into my bed and closed my eyes.

I got a repeat of the same damned dream.

I hate Planetos.

…

"You seem tired today," Mother said as we took our place in the stands.

I smiled up at her as best I could, "No mother, I am quite alright."

That was a gods damned lie, I was barely rubbing enough brain cells together to keep my eyes open. I would happily curl up into a ball and fall into unconsciousness, but I had to show up. At that point, missing things would make the bards start singing about me feeding cats into paper-shredders or something ridiculous.

I was normally not one to complain about it, but I despised the climb up the damned thing, why can we not have oddly low seats like the show?

It was so much easier than climbing up three flights of stairs up to the royal seats.

The fact that Mother with her long green skirt, heavy with golden thread and white pearls seemed utterly untroubled by it was sort of disheartening.

All I could do was to try to not resort to the instinct of climbing up on all fours.

I mumbled my greetings before taking my seat beside Aegon behind Rhaenyra and Laenor.

"You look tired still," Aeg asked, a bit of concern in his clear violet, almost mauve eyes. "Was it the dreams?"

I smiled back, Who the hell else knows about them?

"I wish I could help," Aeg said sadly.

"Me too!" Hela and Aem echoed before turning on each other and grumbling, "Quit it!"

G.R.E.A.T.

Ignoring the debate, I shrugged at my twin, "Do not worry about it Aeg, it is my burden to bare."

Aegon snorted, "At least your wordiness is intact."

I smiled at him before looking past him, "Wordiness?"

"I know words too!" Aeg smiled triumphantly and I did not have the heart to tell him that he tripped up on the pronunciation.

"Any knights you favor today?" I asked my younger siblings to draw them out of their squabbling.

I realized how stupid a question that was from their confused expressions.

Seriously? I might as well have asked about the weather.

"I don't see many fight," the newly six-year-old girl knit her brows together. "I guess the best one?"

Aemond just spread his arms and shouted, "Criston!"

That was to be expected after all he- wait did he just say 'Criston'? Why did he say Criston?

Before I could ask why he had chosen the soon-to-be-pincushion, I was cut off by the sound of blaring trumpets announcing the melee. Following that a menagerie of armored men entered the field, moving like a homicidal and testosterone-poisoned rainbow.

The horde of men presented themselves before the royal stands and Viserys stood up and began announcing the beginning of the ceremony.

I did not pay much attention to what the fool was saying as I attempted to puzzle out why my (sort of) little brother already liked the most stab-able man on the planet-os.

"Are you okay Gaem?" Aeg asked as I tried to grasp my answer.

I nodded absently, "I am alright Aeg, just lost in thought."

That got a chuckle, "Well you won't have fun if you are thinking!"

I nodded with an amused smile.

It is probably nothing, no need to go jumping at shadows… oh wait, this Westeros. Shadows literally kill people here. I snorted in amusement at my momentary idiocy.

That amusement ceased when the Lord Dick of the Pricksguard moved towards the stands during the faze of the melee where every knight went to go get a mark of favor from a little girl who was probably young enough to be their daughter.

The 'knight' stood before the box clad in his heavy white tournament armor, with a round shield in one hand and his Morning Star hanging from his side. No amount of white enamel could make that ugly spiked ball seem any less like an implement of mass inconvenience.

"My queen!" The knight kneeled. "Might I humbly request that I be granted your favor for this Melee?"

That got the expected shock from the crowd while I bit back a curse.

I had hoped against all reason that he might not have been quite so overt in his betrayal.

Rhaenyra did not screw anyone she was not supposed to and Laenor had not been too overtly flamboyant during the entire feast.

To her dubious credit mother recovered quickly, looking quite pleased as she stood and very deliberately handed a strip of green cloth to one her ladies. A show since I knew well enough that Cole had visited the apartments (I somehow doubted that he was on legitimate business), my own mistake for hoping for that to be a sign of less extreme action.

"It would be my pleasure, Ser Criston!" She announced dramatically as the lady ran down the three flights of stairs and presented the prick with the strip of cloth.

I desperately wished that I could see Rhae's face right now, from my seat all that was visible is her noticeably stiffer frame.

The only thing I could do was reach down and place a hand on her shoulder.

She moved away from it at first, probably startled out of her anger at what she had just seen but she accepted the hand a moment later, reaching up with one of her own to squeeze it.

I could understand her pain there, she had thought that the man was her knight and he had abandoned her when it became clear that she could not give him what he wanted.

I would happily carve his heart out to make Valyrian Steel. Then probably the rest of him too.

All things considered though the tourney did not get too complicated.

Sure, Ser Criston still admittedly treated his competitors like a lawnmower treats grass but none of them were people I cared about.

In fact it was downright a pleasure to see Harwyn Strong get his title of 'Brokenbones' in person, although I was rather shocked at the inaccuracies of the histories if the otl tourney had been anything like this.

Greens were strewn across the arena but holy crap, anyone with even vaguely Black leanings was completely crushed by the Lord Prick. Honestly the man was fighting with so much ferocity that I half expected him to start claiming skulls for the Blood God.

Forget Harwyn, it would be a miracle if this tourney ends with anything short of a dozen fatalities. I muttered internally as the ball wrapped around one knight's sword arm and the poor fool was savagely yanked downward into the pointed edge of Cole's armored knee. That the Prick dropped his weapon and shifted the screaming man's weight to outright flip into the fool that tried blind-siding him was outright horrifying from the blood spurting from helmet and the scream of metal against metal.

Cole did not even stop for a beat before collecting the prone man's sword and ringing the struggling man's helm with the pummel like a bell before moving on.

Clearly, I was not the only one that shared this view since quite a few ladies in the stands looked sick while some even fainted at the endless parade of shattered limbs and life-threatening injuries.

I really tried to not take note of the handful of women that looked turned on by the proceedings…

At least one of the gasps had sounded distinctly like an orgasm… I could worry about how twisted the Andal's were as a group later.

As Ser Criston collected his accolades after he had finished his rampage, I breathed a sigh of relief.

It was over and no one of significance to my plans was dead nor injured. Joffrey was still in one piece and available to regulate Laenor while Bulwer was standing behind me as usual.

Fortunately, events took a turn for the boring after that.

I went through the remaining weeks of the feast engaging with what few people were not turned off by my presence and I even managed to get Rhea to agree to writing me.

That had been a win as it gave me a potential way of reaching Jeyne in the future in addition to a potential way of screwing over Daemon.

Overall nothing terrible happened. Laenor and Rhaenyra played their part, Viserys deluded himself and Mother was too busy gloating at her latest acquisition to make my life harder. I even managed to get through it while avoiding ever having to speak with Lord Lyonel 'the Hand' or Ser Otto 'the old dick'. The only real hiccup was the Velaryons insisting that Laena was 'on the mend' and troubling Lymon for an invitation to the Hightower for when she recovered. I gave them credit for the attempt, but it was a bit much all things considered.

But all thing's considered things went rather well.

I even got used to the same damned dream every night… well, not really on that last one but I made due. I took some solace in the fact that I was really screwing over whatever had chosen to give me night terrors.

Still, I never once let my guard down until it was finally time to leave.

Westeros bit the asses of those who turned their backs to its scheming.

…

King's Landing was already shrinking behind me as our caravan moved back in the direction Oldtown.

I was fairly content.

"I think that went well," I commented to Bulwer.

The Bull nodded, "As you say."

"Was that agreement or habit?" I queried.

"A bit of both."

"Exceedingly well," Nessa hummed in an exceedingly good mood as she scribbled on ledger, untroubled by the cart beneath her. She glanced up at me happily. "I do believe that you will be quite pleased with the initial profits."

My contentment took a bit of a dip after she relayed to me that I was now the extremely unofficial partner of three brothels, a smithy and a small fishing venture out of King's Landing.

"I do believe that we can continue expanding our enterprises in Oldtown however," Nessa quickly reassured me, misreading my expression. "I am of course quite certain that my Oldtown transactions should be complete before our return to the city."

"My father's an honest dealer," Harper shrugged from where he was fiddling with a puzzle box that Arral had somehow had on his person. "I do not think that he will do you wrong, My Prince."

"Oh, I am quite certain," Nessa's smile was altogether too pleased. "We will have to secure you an abnormally large inheritance somewhat ahead of schedule otherwise."

The lantern-jawed merchant's son smiled and tapped his pendant, "That strikes me as fair, my prince is like to put it to better use than my brother, captain."

"Stop preening and pass me the box," Mida grumbled. "We both know I have better fingers for it."

"That we are of an age is a bit saddening," Nessa shoot her head disapprovingly. "I am attempting to keep our prince aware of our circumstances!"

Despite myself, I smiled.

"As long as you are not planning on buying out the throne," I repeated my warning, only half-joking.

I have the strangest feeling that I am going to be repeating that line in years to come.