Baela II
Getting to Moondancer had been easy, once she had convinced Ser Robert Quince that she was going to remain in her chambers for the rest of the evening. They expected me to grow wroth the moment summons came for Aegon and Viserys, and I did not disappoint. She had spat something akin to "only cowards and fools would think the war could be won by guarding an abandoned castle" as she threw a goblet at Quince when he forbade her from accompanying her brothers to King's Landing. Baela giggled, despite herself. Poor Ser Robert really didn't deserve such a harsh lashing, but it had to be done. They'd have otherwise immediately suspected me of plotting my escape. Instead, they'd gotten what they'd expected: a Lady sulking in her chambers. It should still be another hour before the ever-suspicious Ser Alfred manages to convince Ser Robert to send someone to check on my chambers, she thought to herself with a wolfish grin.
Her brothers had departed Dragonstone's citadel that morning, sailing with several ships from her grandfather's fleet for King's Landing, where Cousin Rhaenyra had begun to consolidate her hold on power on the mainland. My brothers and father await me there. A dragon doesn't hide or sulk when its brethren take to the skies for war. She slipped out of the window in her chambers, using a makeshift rope she had crafted from her bedsheets to scale the black-stone walls of the Stone Drum to the tiled roof of a nearby building. As she passed one of the many rooftop draconic gargoyles, she gave it a friendly pat, whispering "mum's the word" and holding her finger to her lips. She was fairly certain it got the message, for it stayed silent.
The castle yard below was silent and dark, for at this hour the servants had been allowed to return to their own quarters, and were likely to be either asleep or enjoying their time to themselves. Moving quickly along the tiled roof, she found the spot she had surveyed earlier, where a wagon had been left beneath the overhang. The wagon and the barrels atop it still stank of the fish that it customarily brought up from the wharves to the citadel every morning. Making sure to stay light on her feet, she gingerly lowered herself from the rooftop to the wagon below, wincing as the boards creaked slightly when she dropped between two of the barrels sitting in the bed. Glancing around to make sure that no one was about, she hopped down onto the cobblestones of the courtyard and made her way quickly towards where Moondancer was chained.
Entering the courtyard, she could see her dragon was curled up asleep, seemingly not having moved since hours earlier when she had taken her for a ride to Driftmark and back. Her first few flights had been exhilarating, and she found herself addicted to the joy she felt as she soared amongst the clouds. The next time you see me Gaemon, it WILL be on dragonback. She had first been able to fly upon Moondancer only a week or so after the Queen and the dragonseeds had departed Dragonstone, and despite her triumph, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as she passed over the waves beneath her. If only my dragon could have grown a bit faster. I could've flown alongside Jace. Perhaps it'd have made all the difference.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she brushed a few strands of silver hair from where they hung in front of her eyes. My hair is growing out again. After I reach King's Landing, I must needs have it cut. I can't have it whipping about as I fly. She quickly began to undo Moondancer's chains, and the dragon raised its head sleepily to regard her with what she would've sworn was draconic suspicion. It unfurled its pale green wings and flapped them quietly, seemingly relishing the ability to stretch. Glancing at the saddle, she realized it would be far too heavy to carry. She steeled her nerves. My ancient ancestors most likely flew without saddles, and the seeds had no access to them on their first flights either. I must needs make do the old-fashioned way. She climbed onto Moondancer's back, using the spines to hold tight, and situated herself between two particularly large ones. She pulled upwards on two pearl colored spikes at the base of the dragon's neck, and it beat its wings forcefully, fighting its way into the night sky. A few moments later, she was hundreds of feet in the air, soaring through the freezing night air. She clutched her furs tightly about her with one hand, using the stars to guide her as she flew towards King's Landing from her memory. Moondancer's pearl crest seemed to glow in the moonlight as they flew, and the only sounds came from the gentle movement of the waves below.
The rhythmic beat of Moondancer's wings and the quiet caress of the wind on her cheek had almost caused Baela to nod off on several occasions. Rubbing a hand across her eyes, she squinted and forced herself to refocus. When lights danced in the darkness of the horizon, she thought herself witnessing the sunrise. Except the Sun does not rise in the west. It had been years since she had been to the capitol, and even by night the city took her breath away. King's Landing must never truly sleep, she thought with awe as she began her descent towards the city below. The city glowed orange and yellow beneath her from the light of thousands of torches, and almost appeared to be alight as she circled Aegon's High Hill and made her final descent towards the largest of the Red Keep's courtyards. Below, Syrax stirred, identifiable from her bright yellow scales. Lifting its mighty scaled head, it roared a greeting, to which Moondancer responded with her own call.
Below, men were scrambling on the battlements, but luckily they appeared to be holding their fire. Internally, Baela cursed herself for not considering how much danger she could have just put herself in. Without announcing my coming, I could have received a bolt through the heart just as easily as a heartfelt greeting. Bringing her dragon down gently to rest on the stones of the courtyard, she dismounted, her thighs aching from clinging to her dragon so tightly. Stretching, she turned to face a muscled knight that approached her, flanked by two men in gold cloaks with spears. The knight himself wore a doublet that was half silver and half gold, divided diagonally down its center. He stopped before her, sizing her up with eyes that showed darkly beneath fiery red curls.
"Lady Baela, I presume?" He spoke, breaking the silence. She nodded, smiling. He continued: "We were completely unaware that you had decided to join the court. Next time, I would provide us with a notice. My men only withheld their fire due to my direct intercession. I am sure you're aware that we are fighting a war, and our Queen is not the only claimant with access to dragons."
Baela crossed her arms, and met the man's hardened stare with a look of defiance of her own. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" She asked, mustering her most persuasive and ingratiating tone.
The knight smiled a thin, cold smile, before speaking: "I am Ser Rayford Lothston, my Lady. And I assure you, the pleasure is all mine." Abruptly, he turned on his heel, and began walking briskly toward Maegor's Holdfast. He motioned for her to follow. As he walked, he stated: "I am going to take you to your father. He must needs be informed of his daughter's unexpected arrival."
Crossing the courtyard quickly, they traversed the drawbridge, over the cruel iron spikes of the moat below. Once they'd entered into the cool corridors of the Holdfast, the walls adopted a blood-like color in the torchlight. Winding their way through the passages, they took a stone stairway up, ascending to the second floor. Iron torches ensconced on the walls lit their way. Ser Rayford guided her to a set of lacquered black double doors, carved to resemble dragons roaring at each other. He gave the door in front of him a firm knock, before stepping back.
For a few moments, there was no sound. Despite herself, Baela had begun to grow nervous. Perhaps I was too hasty in my decision. Others would be punished severely for such a lack of obedience. She was in the process of reassuring herself that such fears were unfounded when the door opened slightly, revealing Prince Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, and her father. Clad only in loose-fitting black silken pants, his lilac eyes widened in surprise at the group arrayed in front of him. Brushing a silver strand of hair back from his eyes, he crossed the distance between himself and Baela quickly, gathering her up in his muscled arms just as he would have done in her younger years. She found herself giggling with joy (and relief) as she returned his embrace. They paid Ser Rayford and the Gold Cloaks no mind for a few moments, before her father finally pulled back in order to address both his daughter and her escorts.
Suppressing a mischievous grin, Daemon spoke first. "I had not been informed that I would be receiving a visit from one of my beloved Princesses. I certainly would have made sure to be dressed more appropriately." Turning to Ser Rayford, he addressed the knight next. "Ser Lothston, thank you for delivering my daughter to me. I presume you were as surprised by her arrival as I?"
Ser Rayford bobbed his head, his blood red curls glinting in the torchlight. "It was a near thing, my Prince. I ordered my men to withhold their bolts, but the Lady Baela could have very easily been targeted for fear that she was one of the treasonous Princes."
Daemon nodded, his face adopting a concerned expression. "I would guess the Queen has not yet been made aware of my daughter's arrival?" Seeing Lothston's response in the affirmatory, he continued: "let us keep it that way, until morning. The Queen desperately needs her rest, and I wouldn't want to trouble her with such concerns now. The Princes are due to arrive tomorrow, and she will need to be fully prepared in order for Prince Joffrey to be officially instated as heir to the Iron Throne."
Ser Rayford gave her and her father one last glance, before nodding. He motioned for his men to follow him, and they disappeared around the corner from whence they had come, moments before. Turning to face her once more, her father's face was a conflicting mess of emotions.
"Baela, what were you thinking? You could have been killed. Aside from that, I have no doubts that the Queen will be incredibly displeased with your disobedience. As I understand it, your presence here represents a direct violation of her orders." He paused, in order to exhale a long, tired sigh. "I suppose that last bit can be addressed in the morning. For now, it is good to see you. Better than good. I have missed you and your sister dearly these past few months." His face brightened as the implications of how she had arrived dawned on him. Taking her hands, he smiled. "Does this mean… has Moondancer reached the point where she can be ridden?"
Beaming, Baela nodded. "Since the Queen departed, she has continued to grow. I was able to fly her for the first time a week or so ago. Since then, I have gradually expanded the distance traveled. Before today, the furthest I flew was Driftmark. I suppose I set myself a new record today." Her father's worry and disappointment had largely dissipated, revealing a face burning with fatherly pride. How I have missed him, she thought to herself.
As they stood speaking, the door had opened a bit wider, revealing a woman with skin as pale as milk, who looked inquisitively at the two of them. She wore a silken night gown that left little of her body to the imagination, and in the torchlight it seemed almost translucent. Her full lips drew back to reveal a beautiful, if somewhat sinister smile. "Who might this be, my Prince?" She asked in a lilting, foreign accent.
Her father's shoulders tensed. Looking over his shoulder, he addressed the woman: "Lady Mysaria, this is my eldest daughter, the Lady Baela Targaryen." Turning back to her, he seemed ashamed. "Dearest, allow me the pleasure of introducing Lady Mysaria of Lys. She… she is a dear friend of mine."
Baela's stomach seemed to drop through the floor. Father has taken a lover? Why now, of all times? She was well aware of the rumors regarding his predilections in his younger years, but she had always believed that he had reigned in his desires during his marriage to her mother and afterwards to the Queen. Does cousin Rhaenyra know of this? She would be furious, I imagine. She was at a loss for words, but she managed to force a smile, followed with the words: "I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Mysaria."
Her father must have sensed her distress, as he asked for Mysaria to bring him a shirt. She returned with a black silken shirt that must have been intended to match the pants that he was currently wearing. "You must be exhausted, sweetling. Allow me to guide you to the guest chambers. The rooms have been prepared in preparation for the arrival of the Princes, and I am sure none will protest if one is given over to your occupancy." He led her down the hallway in the torchlight, taking a winding stairwell down back to the first floor. Reaching a firm oaken door, he opened it and motioned for her to enter. After she had done so, he stood in the doorway, hesitating. Finally, he spoke. "I'm sure Lady Mysaria came as quite a shock to you. Had I known to expect you, this meeting would have gone much differently, I assure you. For now, focus on getting some rest. After a flight like yours, I am certain you are in need of rest. I will fetch you in the morning to present you to the Queen." With that, he kissed her quickly on her forehead before turning and closing the door behind him.
Baela wasn't sure whether to cry or to rage. I suppose I should have known that I didn't know everything about my father. Even so, she felt betrayed. Once more, she found herself wishing her sister were present. Rhaena was always better at handling things delicately. She sat back on the four-posted bed, before laying back onto the downy pillows. Despite wishing to resist the urge to sleep, she found herself unable to keep her eyes open. The dark and calming abyss of sleep enveloped her; in her dreamless slumber, she found respite.
Servants came to awake her only an hour or so after the dawn. She bathed herself, despite their protests, and begrudgingly accepted the new clothing they provided, a dress that was the definition of extravagance. Crafted of black velvet, it had a red three-headed dragon sewn into the bodice, accentuated with small red rubies that glinted in the torchlight. Her family's sigil was bordered by a ring of black pearls sewn into the lining, completing the look. Father probably suspects the sight of me in a dress might help to placate the Queen; she always did insist my usual attire downplayed my 'womanly beauty'. She suppressed a scoff. As if a pretty dress will make my cousin any more forgiving. She also found herself torn with regards to her father's visitor the night before. Her loyalty to her father was unquestionable, but she couldn't help but feel guilty at concealing his infidelities from the Queen herself. She finally decided against speaking up about it, despite her own personal misgivings.
A few moments later, there was a knock at the door, and a moment later, her father entered. The Prince was dressed in an outfit very similar to her own. In fact, probably designed to match it. I wonder if there is another dress just like my own hidden somewhere in the keep for Rhaena. These were probably made for when father planned to introduce us to the court. He gave her an encouraging grin, but to Baela's eyes he seemed uncharacteristically tense. Taking his arm, she allowed him to lead her to her fate.
Walking the stone halls, she was grateful that her father chose to make the journey in relative silence, only uttering that "she looked stunning" and inquiring "how she slept". Beyond their limited exchange of words, she steeled herself for what was to come. A dragon does not run, she thought to herself. As they made their way to the center of the Holdfast, Baela realized they were not heading for the Great Hall. The Queen means to address me inside the Holdfast. Perhaps she wishes to keep her judgement a private affair. Eventually, the two of them reached two massive doors, carved and adorned in the same lacquered fashion as the ones of her father's chambers. Servants opened them, and a tall, perfumed servant struck a bronze-footed staff on the floor as they entered.
"Announcing the Lady Baela Targaryen, escorted by her father, the Prince Daemon Targaryen." Baela had to resist the urge to begin fussing with the pearls set in her dress as her father led her into the center of the room. As they approached where the Queen sat, they passed beaten silver mirrors that lined both sides of the hall. Torches were lit along the sides, their light amplified by the mirrors. The opulence was completed by the richly carved panels of wood that were placed in an alternated fashion alongside the mirrors. At the end of the hall sat the high table, and at the center of the table sat Rhaenyra herself, breaking her fast. She appeared to be eating lemon cakes, judging from the powdered sugar that had gathered around her lips. She finished the one she had been eating when they had entered, before brushing its traces from her face gracefully with a black handkerchief.
Judging from the dark circles forming beneath the Queen's eyes, her cousin had not been sleeping well. What shocked her the most was that in attendance to the Queen was the very woman she had seen the night before. Dressed in a black velvet hooded robe lined with blood-red silk, the Lady Mysaria gave her a small smile from beneath her cowl. Also present were the Maester Gerardys, Ser Lorent Marbrand, and her own grandfather, Lord Corlys Velaryon. Strangely, neither of the Seasnake's grandsons were in attendance, nor were any of the other seeds.
The Queen was the first to break the silence. "How dare you disobey my commands, Baela? Not only did you risk your own death during your landing, but you have sullied my own Royal Authority! How are the most powerful lords of the realm supposed to respect my commands when I cannot even command the obedience of one young Lady?" She drew herself up in her chair, as though she awaited an answer.
Her father spoke next. "My daughter has always had your interests at heart, my beloved. She flew to court in order to fight for your cause. Moondancer has grown enough to be ridden, and soon can take its place amongst our battle-ready dragons. Besides, she could not bear the agony of being parted from her brothers, the Princes."
"She must needs be punished, Daemon." Rhaenrya hissed. "I've half a mind to chain her Moondancer in the Dragonpit and toss away the key til the end of the war."
Daemon shook his head. "I agree that she should be punished. But imprisoning a battle-ready asset during a war is ill-advised." He paused. "Besides, there is no need for anyone else to know your Royal Authority was spurned. Announce that my daughter has come to attend Prince Joffrey's installment as the Prince of Dragonstone. Such a decree will be accepted by the people, and nothing will seem amiss. When the war is over, and the Usurper and his brothers appropriately chastised, we can decide on an appropriate punishment for my daughter's willfulness."
Rhaenyra's eyes had narrowed as her father spoke, but when he ceased, she remained silent, evidently pondering his advice. Oh please, please Rhaenyra. Please do not take my Moondancer from me! Baela thought, trying her best to keep her panic from showing. Finally, the Queen sighed, and began to speak.
"There is wisdom in your words, Prince-Consort. Your daughter will be announced to court as a guest for Joffrey's installment. Afterwards, she will spend an appropriate amount of time in the city to 'celebrate', as is custom. But after that, she will fly back to Dragonstone, for the remainder of the war. She will be permitted only to fly her dragon if the island itself is threatened. My word on this is final. Another transgression will result in the imprisonment of both her and her mount."
Baela suppressed the desire to sigh with relief. "You have my word that your command will be followed, Your Grace."
Rhaenyra scoffed. "I thought I had your word the last time. This time, I will expect your good behaviour by taking a hostage, as it were. It seems in times such as these only that will produce the desired faithfulness of my subjects."
Rhaenyra's words stung. Before Baela could prepare a response, the Lady Mysaria stepped forward, gracefully taking a position next to the Queen. "Your Grace, it seems that with the limited audience in attendance, now would be an excellent time to address the issue of rewarding your dragonseeds. I submit that we solve this dilemma now, without the court, or the seeds in attendance. We would not want for them to grow discontented at the lack of apparent reward."
Her father nodded. "The Lady Mysaria speaks true. I have given this issue a great deal of thought since we took the city, and I feel we are in an excellent position to reward our servants handsomely and make a statement to the treasonous lords of the Realm." He paused, before continuing. "During my campaign in the Riverlands, only two houses of significance betrayed their oaths to my brother. House Bracken and House Vance of Atranta declared for the Usurper. The other Riverlords quickly quashed their pathetic attempts at rebellion, whilst I took Stone Hedge and Lord Humphrey Bracken hostage. The former heir to Stone Hedge, Ser Amos, had only a daughter before his demise on the battlefield. Similarly, Lord Qarl Vance himself has a daughter of twelve and a son of three."
Daemon ran a hand through his silver hair as he made eye contact with the Queen. "Recently, my Queen, you rightfully struck the heads off of Lords Rosby and Stokeworth. They too have left daughters, older than their young boys. I propose that in the cases of Lords Vance and Bracken that they be sent to the Night's Watch for treason. We can then marry each of the dragonseeds to these girls, thereby punishing their treason and amply rewarding these seeds in one stroke. Perhaps something to the tune of Stone Hedge and the Bracken whelp for the rider of the Cannibal, Atranta and the Vance girl for the rider of Grey Ghost, the Rosby girl for Vermithor's master, and the Stokeworth lass for the rider of Silverwing."
Gaemon could be receiving Stone Hedge? Baela thought to herself, excited at the prospect. He'd receive everything he had hoped for and more. A powerful lordship and the hand of a Bracken in marriage is a magnificent reward indeed! I am… happy for him. She quickly realized that her grandfather had cleared his throat as he was preparing to respond.
"My Queen, the Prince's idea, while a magnanimous gesture towards the seeds, is plagued with problems. Forgive me, Prince Daemon, but you yourself stated that the former Lord Rosby and Stokeworth left sons. House Bracken and House Vance of Atranta each have a sitting Lord. While our precious Queen is her father's true heir, that was made so by decree. Her situation is unique. Disinheriting or displacing these Lords and heirs would overturn centuries of law and precedent, and call into question the rights of scores of other lords throughout Westeros whose own claims might be seen as inferior to those of their elder sisters. We cannot risk the loss of our support from our own nobility to reward these seeds so. Dragons are forces of great power, but they ultimately cannot occupy lands, castles, and cities, nor can they be made to pacify them. We'll need swords for that, and thousands of them. I propose instead that the crown reward the seeds with lands of their own. Driftmark has fertile fields and pastures aplenty. For their service, I would be honored to offer Sers Gaemon and Maegor small holdings on Driftmark, and lands could be made available along the Blackwater Rush for Sers Ulf and Hugh. The Lady Nettles will still be promised an ample dowry for when the war is over and she chooses to marry."
Her father's eyes had narrowed. "Traitors deserve to be made to take the Black, or better yet, to decorate spikes along the walls of this keep. They most definitely do not deserve to keep their seats. Besides, House Baratheon only exists due to the custom I described. My proposal does not lack precedent."
Rhaenyra stood. "I'll not have bickering amongst my closest advisors about this any longer. As I'm sure you'll remember from your studies under the Maesters, Prince-Consort, House Durrandon was extinct in the male line. The Houses you intend to marry our seeds into are not. While I am all for punishing traitors, Lord Corlys has the right of it. We simply cannot afford to lose the support of any more of our lords. I hereby decree that holdings will be made available for Sers Maegor and Gaemon on Driftmark, and holdings along the Blackwater Rush will be granted to Sers Ulf and Hugh." The Queen gathered up her dress and walked around the high table. As she approached Baela and her father, the servant beat his staff once more upon the ballroom floor.
"With great pleasure, I announce the arrival of the Prince Joffrey Velaryon, attended by his brothers, the Princes Aegon and Viserys Targaryen." Stunned, Baela whirled around with the rest of those in attendance. Strolling proudly in sea-green and silver silks, Prince Joffrey beamed at his mother.
"Did the court miss my attendance, mother? As I flew towards the keep, I saw my brother's procession up from the Mud Gate. I decided we would wait to surprise you, since it appeared you had matters of great import to discuss."
His brown eyes sparkled with mirth. Baela might as well have been seeing a ghost. He looks just like Jace. The Queen shrieked with delight as she hurried across the polished floor of the ballroom, tears running freely down her cheeks. Reaching Prince Joffrey, she buried him and his brothers, who stood shyly to his sides, in a warm embrace. The Prince, despite having grown, struggled to extricate himself, growing red with embarrassment as those in attendance chuckled.
"My sons, my pillars of strength have returned to me. I could not ask for a better present." Rhaenyra positively beamed as she spoke, extolling Prince Joffrey on how he had grown into such a fine young man.
"Have any young maidens in the Vale begun to vie for your favor?" She asked with a mischievous grin, to which the Prince's cheeks grew all the redder. Laughing, the Queen kissed him on the forehead.
"You'll have to tell me all about them. I just hope you've not done anything that would break the sweet daughter of Lord Manderly's heart."
Laughing, she demanded her court attend her as they swept through the halls of Maegor's Holdfast, those in attendance growing rapidly. Eventually they reached the drawbridge, from whence it was a short walk to the Great Hall. Despite the Queen's harsh words earlier, Baela was happy for her. She glows like she did before her father's death, before this accursed war began. A large crowd had already begun to gather, evidently having been warned in advance that the Queen was to hold court. At the foot of the Iron Throne, the six dragonseeds stood in attention, their black plate gleaming in the morning light streaming in from the Hall's windows. They had removed their helms, and as the Queen entered, they knelt. As she passed, she beckoned them to rise, and as she ascended the stairs of the throne, they rose. Baela stood with her father and brothers in attendance, at the front of the crowd that had gathered. Looking back to Gaemon, she saw his eyes had widened in surprise at her presence. Giving him a wink, she turned her gaze back to Prince Joffrey as his installment ceremony began.
The ceremony itself had taken longer than expected, as many of those whose attendance was expected had not yet made their way to the keep. When all were finally assembled, the somber ceremony finally began, and her own presence was addressed according to plan. Baela couldn't help but note that the air was decidedly cool. Joffrey's new title seems to be a poor recompense for the loss of two brothers, she thought to herself. When the Septon had finished anointing him, Joffrey had taken his seat on one of the steps of the Iron Throne. From then on, court proceeded as usual. When the time came for the announcement of the seeds' rewards, the court had grown hushed with anticipation. Baela felt for Gaemon. He does not know it, but his reward pales in comparison to what was originally considered.
As the Queen had proclaimed their rewards, whispers filled the Great Hall. The seeds, who had once again removed their helms, hid their disappointment well, but there was still a perceptible tightness to their features. It seems they too expected something greater. After the rewards themselves had been dispersed, the Queen ordered her servants attend her as she descended the steps of the throne. The court dispersed after she had exited, and Gaemon nodded in her direction before turning to exit the hall. He had started a deep discussion with the tall seed who was brown of hair and the short girl who was brown of skin. I'm sorry, Gaemon. If it had been up to me, the reward would have been much more suitable. The huge seed and the one that seemed perpetually drunk exited next, and with the Queen gone they barely bothered to conceal the rage contorting their features.
She felt a squeeze on her arm. "I hope to see you later, my daughter." Her father smiled down at her. "For now, I must attend to the Queen and your brothers." Turning, he strolled out of the hall after the Queen and her sons. She found herself unsure of what to do next, seemingly forgotten as the court emptied, leaving her and only a few servants who were tidying up. As she turned to return to Maegor's Holdfast, a servant entered the hall, and glancing around nervously, approached her.
"Beggin' your pardon, m'lady, but there's a man who wishes to speak with you. He says he'll pay you a golden dragon if you agree."
Baela smiled, and nodded, allowing the servant to guide her out of the great hall and into the courtyard. They found Gaemon sitting in a small grove of trees in the shadow of the great red curtain walls. Gaemon thanked the servant, paying him a silver stag for his trouble, before turning to face her.
"Where's that dragon I was promised? A lady's time is precious, as you know, and I certainly can't be seen to be frolicking with just anyone."
"I fear you and the Seven must forgive me for committing the sin of telling a lie. I never truly intended to pay such a mighty price." Gaemon said with a grin. "Instead, I've come with an offer that I thought might be of interest. In these past few weeks, I've had the privilege of exploring this city. I suspect that some places I've found would be of interest to you as well. Besides, I am dying to hear just how you were able to convince the Queen to let you come to the city. I seem to remember her orders being quite clear before."
Baela found her cheeks heating up. "I… may have not used persuasion. Think of it more as a surprise, in honor of the Prince's arrival." Pausing, she crossed her arms. "Now before I expire from the sheer anticipation, please do me the favor of sharing this offer of yours."
Gaemon nodded. "Your untimely demise is by no means my intent. I simply wanted to extend you an invitation to explore the city." He paused to chuckle. "Of course, if you are interested, you must needs find some more… elusive attire. As beautiful as you look, I daresay we would not be able to remain unnoticed for very long."
Baela could feel the excitement surge within her. My own father is famed for walking those very streets below. It would be amazing to see them for myself. Her decision was made, despite some misgivings, which she quickly stifled. "I accept your offer, noble Ser. Let us go, and see this city. I will even grant you a boon, in thanks. I shall find some Arbor Gold for us to enjoy, as I am certain a wineskin or two can be found lying about. When do we depart?"
Gaemon stroked his chin. "Meet me here the night of Prince Joffrey's celebration feast. Due to the celebrations and the abundance of wine, we should have a few hours after the feast has ended to explore without your absence being noticed."
Baela nodded, her excitement palpable. "It shall be done, noble Ser." She paused, and surveyed the courtyard. In the shade, it appeared that no one was either paying them any attention or was in earshot.
"Thank you for this, Gaemon. You have no idea how much I needed something like this."
She offered him one last smile before turning to hurry back to Maegor's Holdfast. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Thinking over their conversation, she found herself grinning. Perhaps dresses aren't intolerable all the time. He did say I looked beautiful, after all. She chided herself for the thought as soon as it arose. Rhaena would never let me hear the end of it if she could read my mind now.