Gaemon V
The crack of the flail against the side of his helm sent Gaemon stumbling to the right. Cursing, he lunged at Morgon Banefort with his wooden blade, but his opponent was able to dance out of the way of his lunge. Whirling to follow him, he kept his shield out in front of him and planted his feet. His breath was thundering from within his helmet; despite training nearly every day he still found sparring at length to be exhausting. The squire across from him was breathing heavily too, his grey and orange tabard heaving up and down. He was keeping his practice flail aloft, its spiked wooden balls circling his head. They both took a moment to readjust their stances before reengaging. Gaemon had been encouraged by Ser Lorent to wear his plate during sparring, and over time he had realised the wisdom in such advice; he was gradually growing accustomed to the weight and feel of it. Wearing it more often also helped to develop his stamina; if he had trained without it he'd have quickly become exhausted when it came time to wear it for a real fight.
"Come now, dragonseed, I would've thought all that fire in your blood would give you the energy to beat one piddling squire such as myself." Morgon's friendly but mocking tone rang out from underneath his helm.
"One would think that with such an exotic weapon you should have no trouble defeating one of the smallfolk, plate-clad or otherwise." Gaemon responded.
Beads of sweat had dotted his forehead for much of the fight, but recently they had infuriatingly begun to flow down his face, following the paths of least resistance. This had unfortunately meant that the salty sweat had begun to sting his eyes, making it more difficult for him to keep a focused gaze. I need to end this now. He's got the edge in stamina, due to his greater experience, he thought to himself.
Gripping the hilt of his practice sword, he advanced. He feinted a thrust at Morgon's neck, which expectedly caused him to raise his shield to intercept. As he raised his shield, Gaemon threw himself into his opponent, leading with his own shield, hoping to force him off balance. His enemy stumbled, a half step, then a full, but was able to plant his feet. I've erred. Gaemon realised his mistake as Morgon put his back into pushing back. While he was physically larger than his enemy, Morgon was stockier, with a lower center of mass and more muscled besides. Gaemon was forced back a step, then another, as he was pushed to the center of the ring. He threw himself into one last shove, buying himself enough time to disengage and set up for an attack, but as he raised his sword, it was knocked from his hands by Morgon's flail.
He was just barely able to intercept the next crack of the flail by hefting his shield, and in the time it bought him, he dived for his training blade. As he reached it, the flail cracked once more across the back of his helm, harder than before.
"The victory goes to Squire Banefort, honorable Sers." Ser Lorent Marbrand had taken the opportunity to step into the ring. Gaemon pounded his fist in the dust.
"Seven hells. For a moment I thought I might actually emerge victorious for once." He sputtered, as he undid the straps beneath his helmet, removing it so that he could drink in the fresh air.
Morgon Banefort chuckled. Extending his hand, he helped Gaemon to his feet. "There is always next time, dragonseed. In the meantime, you really ought to take my offer up to become one of my thralls. I can only imagine what a Hooded King could do with a dragonrider." Banefort strode out of the fighting circle, calling for a pitcher of water.
Ser Lorent remained in the ring, his eyes on Gaemon. "You were not far from victory this time, Gaemon. Try working on outlasting your opponent. You grow aggressive during your bouts, and it often results in your defeat. The longer a fight lasts, the more opportunities will arise for you to learn. Besides, it will help you to develop your stamina. You've made good progress in these last few months. Always remember that every knight, no matter how skilled, began as a novice." He clapped Gaemon on the shoulder before exiting the ring, no doubt seeking his squire to give him tips of his own.
Gaemon finally left the ring. Ser Lorent is right. I usually press the attack to try and finish my opponent before my lack of experience gets me killed. He decided in the coming weeks that he would purposefully avoid going on the offensive, in order to see how long he could last. Sitting on a bench, he took a wet cloth from a bucket a servant offered in order to wring it over his head, relishing the cool water trickling down. After he had wiped the sweat from his face, he thanked the young boy, then stood, fastening his steel sword to his belt as he made his way towards the Red Keep's massive gate. With Prince Joffrey's feast due to begin in a few hours, he decided to make his way back to the Dragonpit in order to bathe and dress in something more suitable for the festivities. While some might've been annoyed at having to ride the great distance from the Red Keep to the Dragonpit, he enjoyed it. The city itself never ceases to amaze. As he passed under the gateway arch, he stretched. I think I'll buy an apple on the way back.
The Dragonpit was so huge that it could be seen across the entire city. Standing at the base of its massive bronze doors, Gaemon felt little larger than an ant. One of the attendant Dragonkeepers nodded, acknowledging his presence, before opening a small door to the side of the massive gates. There were many smaller doors leading in and out of the Dragonpit, as it would have been hugely inefficient to continuously have to open and close its massive gates to allow passage for visitors. Once inside, Gaemon went about making himself presentable for the feast. After he had done so, he stepped out from his quarters (the dragonseeds had been provided lodging within one of the empty Dragonkeeper barracks) and knocked on the doors of both Maegor and Nettles. Each opened, and their occupants stepped into the hall.
"Couldn't bear to be without my company for one fucking second, eh?" Nettles said as she stepped into the torchlit hall. She had chosen a black silk blouse with red highlights, matched by black leggings that looked to have been made of velvet. The outfit was completed with a pair of supple black leather boots. She appeared to have bathed recently, as her mane of black curls was not as unruly as usual, and she had tied it behind her head.
"You should be well aware by now that your company is simply enthralling my sweet. Especially given that you are capable of making a Lyseni sailor blush every time you open your mouth." He gave her his most innocent smile, which earned an immediate snort.
Maegor had crossed his arms, evidently quite willing to let the exchange continue for his own enjoyment. He too had dressed for the feast, wearing a black doublet with red dragons stitched into its high collar. The look was completed with black trousers, tucked into black boots.
Gaemon broke off his smile, his face contorting into more of a frown. "Before we go, we must needs discuss the ceremony yesterday." He beckoned for them to follow him, and they entered a cool, winding staircase that led them down from their barracks deeper into the Dragonpit, eventually emerging on the ground floor of the cavernous hall. The hall itself smelled perpetually of smoke, and housed fourteen separate gated pens where each individual dragon roosted, chained to its stall. They walked towards the back of the great hall, past the pens of Morghul, Shrykos, and two empty pens before reaching the pen allotted for the Cannibal. Given his dragon's temperament, Gaemon had not been shocked when he was asked to guide his dragon to such an isolated location. It turned out quite convenient, really. We are never disturbed when we speak here, and the beast himself would be sure to inform me if any strayed too close.
Once inside, he turned to speak. "Yesterday came as quite a surprise to us all, I'd wager. I will not mince words. The rewards we were offered for our services were not acceptable. We are a decisive asset to the Queen, and yet we are offered boons that would disappoint even a hedge knight."
Maegor and Nettles had both begun to frown. Nettles spoke first: "I may be no high born lady, but I don't need much of an education to see how costly this war has become. A promised dowry is nice, but something tells me such promises won't be worth shit if the Queen simply can't afford to pay."
Maegor nodded. "As far as I am aware, the lands we were given do not possess even a small keep, or tower house. If the crown cannot afford to pay a dowry, it certainly will not be able to grant us the funds we'd require to construct seats of our own. I'm sure you both have noticed, but Lord Celtigar's new taxes are highly unpopular with the people of the city. If the crown has been forced to raise taxes so highly, I expect it is in serious straits."
Before Gaemon could respond, the Cannibal raised its head from where it had been resting it under a black leathery wing. Hissing, its eyes glowed a baleful shade of green. We never receive visitors here, he thought to himself. He and the others turned to face the gate, and were shocked to see none other than Ulf the White and Hugh Hammer entering the pen, dressed in red and black doublets like the other seeds. The Cannibal raised its maw, opening its jaws slightly to reveal its razor sharp, jet black teeth. Small green flames danced at the back of its throat. Gaemon placed his hand on its snout to calm it.
Hugh cleared his throat. "We expected to find you here. While we may 'ave 'ad our… disagreements… in the past, I 'ope we can all agree that the bitch 'as really fucked us this time."
Ulf nodded, "We should've been made lords after the Gullet. Each and every fucking one o' us. We've bled for blessed Rhaenyra, and we've naught to show for it but a couple o' gods forsaken pebbles."
Gaemon scowled. How quickly they seek to emphasize our common cause once it suits them. He paused, thinking. They are not wrong about this, however. If our service so far has barely warranted us a reward, then what can we hope to expect at the war's end? He felt the familiar embers of rage deep within him. Besides, the Queen almost had my head struck off, for no reason other than being unwanted kin.
He glanced at the others. Maegor had not yet uttered a word, and a cold, dispassionate look had spread across his features. Nettles' eyes had narrowed, and she had crossed her arms. Ulf looked back and forth between the three of them, his bloodshot hazel eyes darting this way and that.
"If the Prince Jacaerys had been alive, this never would've happened. He was a good lad, honorable and true. He gave us the chance to master dragons. He'd have made sure our loyalty was rewarded properly." Ulf practically hissed those last few words, running his hand through his brittle white hair.
"It does no good to lament what lies in the past. It is one thing to whisper our discontent in the shadows, and another entirely to do something about it." Maegor crossed his arms as he spoke. His tone was cold, and hard. "We are servants of the Queen. We must needs make do with what we have been given. I am no more pleased about this than any of you, but I fail to see what exactly we can do about it."
Hugh's gravelly voice rumbled out a response: "We are the masters of over 'alf of the Queen's dragons. Eggon the Conqueror didn't ask for the other kings to submit, he took the Seven Kingdoms for himself. There are plenty of lords in the realm who 'ave committed 'igh treason. We should've been given their lordships."
"Fie on that," spat Ulf. "Casterly Rock, Storm's End, and the Hightower should be ours for the taking." His mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "I see no reason why anyone should stop us from taking them. Great seats for great lords. And there are no greater lords than dragonriders."
Gaemon narrowed his eyes. To be lord of a seat as storied and powerful as Storm's End would be… magnificent. Orys Baratheon himself was a bastard, after all. And come to think of it, its current Lord has only four daughters…
He cleared his throat. "So what do you propose we do about this? We stand to gain nothing through betraying the Queen's interests."
Ulf and Hugh's eyes narrowed. Ulf spoke: "nobody said a blessed thing about betraying our beloved Queen's interests. All we ask is that you keep your eyes open for opportunities is all." He cackled. "After all, we small folk ought to stick together. Just because we planted our arses on dragonbacks don't make us any different in the eyes of the Lords and Ladies of the Kingdom. We're less than the shit beneath their feet to that lot."
Gaemon looked to Nettles and Maegor. They seemed to be in agreement. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to keep our options open."
Ulf grinned, and a thin, cruel smile appeared on Hugh's lips. Bowing, Ulf laughed: "Strange times call for strange bedfellows. Until the feast." With that, the two seeds left the enclosure.
The three that remained were silent for a few moments, until Nettles spoke up: "I don't like those two. I don't like them one fucking bit."
Entering the Great Hall of the Red Keep, he was shocked to see how much preparation had gone into preparing it for the feast. Great black banners hung between the pillars, depicting the three-headed Targaryen family crest. Each of the massive bronze braziers were lit, and cast vast dancing shadows across the hall. Due to the flame, it was surprisingly warm, and he found himself loosening his collar reflexively as the first hints of perspiration began to bead on the back of his neck.
Tables had been arranged in rows down the length of the hall, with the Queen's table set at the base of the Iron Throne, perpendicular to the rest. The mountain of melted blades rose behind it, the flames and shadow dancing along its edges, giving it the appearance of still smoldering. The dragon skulls mounted along the walls also took advantage of this effect. Balerion's skull, the most massive of the dragon skulls in the chamber, had grown to resemble black crystal with age, and the lights of the braziers danced along its teeth, some of which were the size of men. Judging by its skull, the Black Dread must have been almost twice as large as the Cannibal itself. I hope Vhagar hasn't reached that size. Gaemon had little desire to face such a beast in combat, even alongside other riders.
As the guests filed in, the seeds were led to a table on the right side of the Queen's own table. Across the hall several great Lords, including Bartimos Celtigar had been seated at the table parallel to the seeds. Judging by our placement, the Queen is acknowledging our import. He suppressed a frown. I'd have preferred a castle to pride of place. Servants guided him to his own seat, where he was placed between Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White. He had to admit to himself internally that he wasn't exactly comfortable with such placement, but quickly forced his apprehension aside. There may be no love lost between any of us, but neither of them are fools. The chance to work a knife between my ribs isn't worth losing their heads. Maegor and Nettles were seated across from them. Addam Velaryon was seated, unsurprisingly, at the Queen's table. How nice it must be to be legitimized, Gaemon thought with a smirk. Corlys Velaryon had been seated to the leftmost side of the Queen's table, and from then the order was Addam Velaryon, Baela, Prince Joffrey Velaryon, the Queen, Prince Daemon, Prince Aegon, and Prince Viserys, who somehow had been allowed to bring his hatchling to the feast, curled about his shoulders. Prince Viserys' dragon has grown a bit since I last laid eyes on it, thought Gaemon with a smile. Soon it will be too large to remain seated atop his shoulders. Someday it will get to return the favor for its master.
After the guests had been seated, those at the Queen's table gracefully took their seats. The Queen herself wore her father Viserys' crown, and it glinted in the firelight. Gaemon's eyes settled next on Baela, who he realized had been watching him from her seat. She smirked before turning to respond to Addam Velaryon, who appeared to be trying to make conversation. Baela, shockingly, had chosen to grace the court by once again wearing a dress, which he thought must have broken some sort of record for her. It was less ostentatious than the one from the day before, but was crafted of black silk, with dragons embroidered in red that seemingly danced up the sleeves. Its plunging neckline was accentuated by a gold necklace she wore, which appeared to be in the design of a three headed dragon, its eyes crafted in rubies. All in all, she looks, well, beautiful. He thought to himself. He averted his gaze, hoping that no one of note had noticed his staring.
The hair on the back of his neck raised as Ulf whispered in his ear, the smell of wine gushing from his breath: "Seven hells, what a looker she is, isn't she? I bet if you were to get her out of that dress, everything would stay right where it is. I s'pose I'd prefer to have a little more meat on her, but you can't deny she's still got it where it counts."
Gaemon's fist clenched from where it sat on his knee under the table, but he forced himself to smile. "She… she is beautiful."
"Fie on that. She's bloody gorgeous. Too bad we lot have to keep to the whores of the city. We seeds aren't good enough for that." Ulf's eyes narrowed. "Excepting the golden boy of course." He nodded towards Addam, who along with Baela, appeared to be listening to a story told by Lord Corlys Velaryon.
Gaemon frowned, but before he could speak, a servant approached bearing a pitcher of wine. Hugh chuckled, a rumbling sound, before speaking, calling for her to "bring it 'ere". As she filled his goblet, he gave her arse a squeeze, which caused her to jump and squeal slightly. Both Ulf and Hugh found that to be funny, and guffawed.
"Be careful now lass, don't spill any of that wine. You won't like the Hammer when he is angry, and he is the sort to get very angry when someone stains his perfectly good doublet." Said Ulf between chortles.
"Keep it comin' my sweet." Hugh implored, as he drained the goblet and held it out for more. After she had poured him a second glass, Gaemon asked for his to be filled, and Ulf was next to demand a full goblet. Nettles and Maegor were next, and Gaemon realized that during this whole time they'd been oddly quiet. They each appeared to have been eating sugared almonds out of a silver bowl that had been placed at their table, ostensibly as an appetizer.
Ulf looked about the table as he took a huge swig of his wine, wiping the deep red droplets from his lip with his sleeve. "I don't believe I had the pleasure of showing the three of you lot my newest purchase." Setting his goblet down, he hefted his left booted foot from the rushes, placing it on the table, much to the chagrin of the nobles seated to their left at the next table. As they mumurred their disapproval, Ulf smiled and turned his foot to the side, revealing that he was wearing golden spurs. Grinning, he gave it a spin. "I just had to purchase a matching set. Cost me a bit, but when I told the goldsmith I flew a dragon for the Queen he was quite amenable to lowering his prices."
Putting his foot back down, he looked around the table. Hugh shrugged. "Me, I think gold and jewels belong on women. Only whores bedeck themselves so."
Nettles' lips spread in one of her gap toothed grins. "Ulf as a whore. Now that's a sight I'd like to see."
Ulf's expression quickly twisted from pleased to furious. Casting his eyes between both Hugh and Nettles, he downed the rest of his goblet while he muttered angrily to himself.
They were spared what was likely to have been an awkward silence by the Queen standing. The hall quickly quieted as all in attendance turned to hear her speak.
"My Lords and Ladies, I welcome you to this feast on this most auspicious of nights. Having wrested control of this grand city from the Usurper, I only yesterday had the pleasure of ensconcing my son, Prince Joffrey, as heir to the Iron Throne. We gather here to celebrate that triumph on this evening, and I ask that you sup with me in good faith as my leal vassals. Let us raise our voices in unison to cheer Prince Joffrey, the Prince of Dragonstone!"
The Great Hall shook as a deafening roar went up, with thousands of voices shouting their support for the Prince. Joffrey himself stood, a huge grin across his face, before bowing and returning to his seat. As the Queen herself returned to her seat, beaming, she clapped, and servants appeared from doors throughout the chamber, carrying great platters heaping with the first course. Judging by the murmurs and exclamations, it appeared to be huge pork meat pies, seasoned with salt, pepper and sage. The servants placed one at each table, its pastry a warm, golden brown. They carved each person seated at the table a generous slice, and Gaemon felt his mouth water as a slice was placed before him, its delicious vapors wafting up towards him. Being a dragonseed does certainly come with some perks, he thought as he prepared to dig in.
The feast had lasted several hours, with a total of seven dishes served throughout. Each was incredibly rich fare, and Gaemon was quite sure he'd never had anything quite so delicious. One of his favorite highlights was the capon served stewed in wine, orange and spices that had formed a delicious sauce. He found he loved the refreshing taste of oranges, which until that evening he had never eaten before. Dessert had come in the form of cream custard tarts, dusted with cinnamon and a drizzle of honey. As he downed the dregs of his fifth cup of wine and ate the last piece of a tart, he felt both full and comfortably drunk.
Ulf stood up next to him, his eyes bloodshot and noticeably paler. He shakily rose from the bench, using Gaemon's shoulder to brace himself. He muttered something akin to "time to go have shome real fun" as he drunkenly wandered out of the hall, his golden spurs clinking.
Hugh polished off his goblet of wine, before standing. Wordlessly, he left the three of them. All around the hall many of those who had been in attendance were rising and leaving, after they had bowed in the direction of the Queen's table. Some particularly enterprising lords had lined up to thank the Queen personally, and she accepted their thanks gracefully while snacking on the custard tarts. He turned to Baela, and when their eyes met, he gave her a nod. She smiled, and rose, curtseying to both the Queen and Lord Velaryon, before exiting the hall.
Gaemon turned to the other seeds, grinning. "My thanks for your grand company, but I must take my leave of you now." He took his time extricating himself from the bench at which he had been seated, not wishing to trip or stumble and make a fool of himself.
Nettles looked around the Hall, before raising a dark brown eyebrow. "I'm sure you have important business to attend to Gaemon. But if you thought the walls of Dragonstone had big ears, you should see the size of the fuckers here. Watch yourself." With that, she stood, downed her goblet, and walked from the hall, swaying only slightly from the effects of the wine. Maegor rose after her, clearly intending to make sure she made it back to the Dragonpit in one piece.
Gaemon himself strode from the hall casually, passing Gyles Yronwood who was locked in an intense arm-wrestling contest with one of Lord Velaryon's household knights. They both appeared to be well within their cups, and a vein bulged on the forehead of the hedge knight as he and the Dornishman held each other in gridlock. Gaemon paused to watch the contest, and thought it over as the hedge knight forced Gyles' hand downwards. With a shout and a great outlay of effort, the beleaguered knight was able to push his opponent back, and with much cheering, finally forced the hedge knight's hand down. Gaemon clapped, tossing him a silver stag for his impressive performance.
Reaching the great doors of the hall, he pushed one slightly open in order to slip out into the cool night air. The Red Keep's courtyard was full of torchlight and laughing people staggering their way towards their quarters or the city below. 'Twas good to see the keep like this, he thought to himself. For far too long now my thoughts have only been of Fire and Blood. Reaching the small copse of trees alongside the curtain wall, he leaned against one, remaining in the shadow to the best of his ability. As he waited, he took the opportunity to gaze up at the stars above. He had always been fond of stargazing, dreaming of what actually might be up there, beyond even the highest clouds. Now that I've flown amongst those clouds, I'm not sure if I'll ever know. In his previous flights, he had tried urging the Cannibal to soar ever higher, but eventually it became bitterly cold, and increasingly difficult to breathe. At that point he had been forced to turn back. Even so, I'd love to know what all those little glowing pinpricks truly are.
"You know, for someone of low birth, you certainly spend a great deal of your time staring at the sky." Hearing Baela's voice put an end to his ruminations.
"I suppose I've always been the type to want what's just out of reach." He responded.
"How very poetic." Smirking, she leaned against a tree across from him. She had abandoned her courtly raiment, instead choosing to wear a leather jerkin over a black blouse, with leather riding pants and supple black boots to match. True to her word, Baela had come with a wineskin.
"In another life, I probably should have been a mummer, or a bard. I'd offer to serenade you, but to my sorrow the bards were able to make their way to your side faster."
"Seven help me if I have to hear another perfumed man croon in my ear. I can only hear so many sing of the beauty of Princess Rhaenys or the wisdom of Queen Alysanne before I wish to dash myself against the rocks below the keep." Uncorking the wineskin, she took a swig, before offering it to him.
He tipped it back, relishing the sweetness. So that is Arbor Gold. It really did taste terrific. Much better than most wines Gaemon had had in his lifetime. Corking it, he handed it back to her. "Thank you for bringing that. I've never actually had the pleasure of drinking a wine of that quality."
Baela nodded. "That is one of the many advantages of befriending a lady of my station." She held out her hand. Smiling, he took it, kissing her ring.
"Shall we go?" He queried.
"I thought you'd never ask."
They had made their way out of the Red Keep relatively quickly, and from what he could tell it had been without notice. Baela had chosen to bring a hooded cloak along with her, which immediately proved valuable in concealing her unmistakable silver-white hair. They took Shadowblack Lane's winding paths down to the base of the hill, and to his relief they had no trouble with anyone as they wandered. Eventually, they made it to the destination he had wanted to escort her to. After his arrival in the city and his reading of the proclamation, he had made his way back to the square he had landed several times. After further inspection, he was quite taken aback by the beauty of its location. The wide square had originally been home to a larger sept, but Maegor the Cruel had destroyed it during his reign, and after the rubble had been cleared away it had been decided that a smaller sept would be built in its stead, with the space to be used instead to create a large square.
After he'd been able to explore it, he had learned that the statue in the center of the square was modeled in the likeness of Jaehaerys I, the King who had ordered for this square to be constructed. He decided to take Baela there, as the square itself was normally full of market stalls, but by night was cleared, revealing a well ordered square lined with trees and beautiful houses. If one were to sit at the feet of the statue of Jaehaerys in the center, you could get a wonderful view of the city from the top of the hill, as the Street of Sisters, ran directly down the hill from the square.
They didn't speak much as they climbed the hill, and Gaemon was grateful that they could both be comfortable with the silence. At this late hour, the streets were largely clear of people, and they were able to make their journey in good time. When they finally reached the square itself, Gaemon gestured with a bow at the stone feet of the Old King.
Baela took her seat, turning to admire the view of the city beneath them. A cool breeze was blowing off of the sea, and it rustled the branches of the trees around the square, almost as if they stood in the midst of a wood.
Baela smiled. "King Jaehaerys would almost certainly not approve of this outing. Then again, he had troubles enough with his own daughters… and sisters for that matter."
Gaemon smiled. "It seems that the Targaryens have never been able to handle the raising of perfect ladies."
Baela snorted. "Certainly not. Once a woman is given a dragon, it is nearly impossible to convince her to return to sewing and singing."
Gaemon sat next to her. "I suppose I should be grateful that our family has such willful daughters. I don't think I'd get along with you half as well if you weren't so adventurous. Besides, I am in your debt for deciding to meet with me in the first place. You've done me a greater service than you can imagine by accepting me as you have." He sighed. "I suppose that is why I brought you here. I felt it necessary to thank you personally."
Baela turned from where she had been looking out across the city. "When Jacaerys… when Jace put forth the call for the seeds, I would have never imagined I would meet you. As a matter of fact I didn't even expect that it would work." She crossed her arms. "Losing Jace was hard, it was probably the hardest thing I've ever experienced. If I had lost Viserys that day as well, I don't know what I would have done. What... what I'm trying to say is that we both have reasons to be grateful to one another." Pausing, she pursed her lips. "You and the other seeds have done wonders for my cousin's cause. Destroying that fleet from the Three Daughters, taking this city… I don't believe we could have done it without your help. That's why I was so infuriated yesterday." Taking a gulp out of the wineskin, she passed it to him.
"My… our father wished to reward you adequately. He asked the Queen to grant you seats taken from disloyal lords. You were to receive Stone Hedge and the hand of a Bracken in marriage for your service, had his plan been implemented. Instead, it was decided that you would be given lesser rewards so as not to infuriate the lords of the realm." Baela shook her head in frustration. "If I had been the one to choose, you'd have received such rewards and more. But the Queen chose differently."
Gaemon was stunned. My father wished to reward that handsomely? Why would the Queen deny us such rewards when she knows each of us is worth the support of a hundred lords? He felt betrayed. It is worse that such things were on the table and removed, than if they had never been offered at all. We are risking our lives for her. He realized that Baela was awaiting his response.
"Thank you for telling me this. Even if I am disappointed to hear it, I am relieved to know that there are those on the 'inside' advocating for us."
Baela smiled fiercely. "I'd have been much more vocal in my support if I hadn't already been in such trouble myself." Her smile waned. "The Queen had just decreed that I would have to depart after Prince Joffrey's feast. She wanted to keep up appearances, but refused to allow me to fight for her. It is so vexing; Moondancer and I are ready. We could make a difference."
Gaemon ran a hand through his hair. "It is the Queen's loss. I, for one, would have loved to fight alongside you. You're twice as fierce as me, even if you do have a dragon more than twice as small."
She had been grinning until the last part, when she delivered him a punch to the shoulder. "At least my dragon isn't old, cantankerous, and cannibalistic."
Gaemon laughed. "Give her time. I'm sure she'll get there some day."
Baela drew her hand back for another blow, but this time he was ready. He caught her wrist midway towards her strike. They sat silently for a moment, as he savored his victory and she gave him another one of her characteristic mischievous smiles. Ah, fuck it, he thought. He let go of her hand, bringing his to her cheek, and kissed her. At first, she recoiled slightly in surprise, but as the reality of the moment dawned on her, she put her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back. They held each other for a few moments, before finally letting go. It was easily the best kiss he'd ever shared with anyone.
It was a few more moments before she spoke. "I hate to say it, but Rhaena was right. That really was excellent." A wry smile spread across her lips. "I guess I shouldn't have judged it based off of the kissing games we used to play with the squires."
"That probably wouldn't have been the best way to experience it. I can only imagine the seductive appeal of a fumbling squire."
"It… left many things to be desired." She crossed her arms. "You know, if you were trying to console me about the fact I must be leaving, you picked the worst possible way to do so. I've half a mind to refuse to leave."
Gaemon laughed. "If you were to do so, our tryst would be laughably short. I'd lose my head over this for certain."
Baela shrugged. "Over the years, I have gotten quite good at getting what I want. Don't be so quick to write off our potential."
Our potential. He liked the sound of it. The thought excited him, but the implications sobered him.
He thought a minute before speaking. "The best thing then is to get you back to Dragonstone without incident."
She nodded. "Tis probably for the best. But I beseech you, if I must go, you'd best give me something to remember you by."
Their kiss that followed was better than the one moments before, which Gaemon found surprising. He had to tell himself to resist his inclination to take things further. Taking her hand, he gave Jaehaerys a pat on the foot.
"I'm sorry, wise king, for scandalizing you so." Baela giggled as they left the square, pulling her hood up once more to conceal her valyrian features. As much as it pained him, he had to take her back, before her absence was noted.
Before they headed back, she turned to Gaemon one last time to speak. "You have to promise me something, Gaemon." He turned, and waited for her next words. "I would give anything to fight alongside you. But since I have been robbed of the chance, you must bring our enemies Fire and Blood in my stead. Most importantly, though, be safe. This war has taken too many of those I held dear already."
Gaemon took her hand. "You have my word, Baela." He paused, before grinning. "Besides, woe be to any who try to come between us. I've not even gotten to see what's beneath all these beautiful dresses. The Usurper and his brothers won't know what hit them."
Baela grinned wolfishly. "It is nice to know I have such a powerful incentive at my disposal."