Hello ladies and gentlemen! Long time no see! Sorry for the wait. I wanted to publish three chapters in one go, and one of the chapters had been driving me nuts, plus I have been busy with my online master's program. Anyway, without further adieu, please enjoy!
Author's Note: Lewd content up ahead.
136 AC - 138 AC
Prince Viserys Targaryen lived a very charmed and privileged life. Being the fifth born and youngest son of Queen Rhaenyra I Targaryen, Viserys was not expected to do much at the royal court, and his rearing had not been as stringent as his older half-brothers had been, with Jacaerys being groomed to be the heir to the Iron Throne, Lucerys having been raised to become the Master of Driftmark, and Joffrey serving as a spare for both his older brothers. Although she was her mother's youngest child, a lot was being expected of Visenya since her future marriage to her half-cousin Maelor was viewed as being the catalyst that would finally unite the Blacks and the Greens and put an end to the tensions that had plagued her late grandfather's reign. Her two older brothers, meanwhile, were unbridled by these high expectations. Aegon and Viserys were free to live the life of the idle rich since not much was expected from either of them.
Their days were spent either hawking, hunting, riding dragons or horses, practicing swordplay in the Red Keep's training yard, reading, or promenading about the castle halls and gardens. Prince Aegon the Younger did not possess any particular talent that could earn him a spot on the small council or in the army or navy. He was a faithful follower of the Seven, but not so much that he aspired to become a septon during his boyhood. While having some interest in topics like history, astrology, and the higher mysteries, Aegon's interest in those areas of study were passing at best, and he never considered becoming a maester as a boy either. His greatest source of interest was his marriage to Lady Thea Celtigar, and he was content with just being her husband.
Viserys on the other hand, could have followed in the footsteps of his great-granduncle, Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen, by joining the Citadel. Forging a chain of copper, yellow gold, and Valyrian Steel, and later acquiring the mask, ring, and rod of the archmaesters could have been a very real possibility for the prince if he had the gumption or interest to do so. The same could be said of his betrothed had she been born male instead of female. If it were possible for her to join the Citadel, the links of Myrine's chain would have been nearly identical to Viserys's, although the yellow gold would be replaced with black iron for knowledge of the care and use of ravens (she did not know which metal link represented ornithology) and electrum for the history of the Valyrian Freehold. Barred from the gates of the Citadel due to her sex, and far too late to become a septa, Lady Myrine Darklyn slaked her thirst for knowledge in the Red Keep's library.
The books that Myrine read there were like portals to other worlds, worlds that did not discriminate or exclude. In her mind, she could observe the Pact being created between the First Men and the Children of the Forest to end their bloody and destructive war. She could witness the victories that were won by King Harwyn Hoare "the Hardhand" as well as the atrocities that he committed against his foes. She could fly with the ravens that were dispatched from Dragonstone by a then Lord Aegon Targaryen to the individual rulers of the Seven Kingdoms announcing that he would be the sole ruler of the continent and that they should bend the knee to him or face the fiery wrath of his dragons. She could watch as that last Lord of Dragonstone's two sons tore his hard-earned kingdom apart due to their ineptitude and tyranny, and how his grandson patched it all back together through competence and good rule.
If it was not history that she was taking an imaginative part in, Myrine would also immerse herself in the world of birds. Flying high in the sky with falcons and eagles. Floating in still waters with swans, geese, and ducks. Flitting from tree to tree with blue-jays, sparrows, magpies, and mockingbirds. Fishing for trout and crawfish from running streams and rivers with herons and storks.
Books, scrolls, and manuscripts. If there was a sheet of parchment or vellum that had writing on it, Myrine would read it. Her betrothed would often join her in the library. The two would spend a lot of time there discussing what they had read, quizzing each other on what they had learned, and correcting the other if they made an error. More often than what Viserys would dare to admit to, it was Myrine who won most of their quizzes.
Lady Darklyn did have a life outside of the library though. Shy and oversensitive to certain textures when she was younger, Myrine had made a good deal of progress since her debut at the Red Keep early in 131 AC. She could retain eye contact when speaking with someone, could motivate herself to try new things like learning how to play the harp from Nell and attempt to work on it all by herself without help. Myrine's biggest personal accomplishment was when she pushed herself to walk barefoot on the Myrish rug that was in Princess Jaehaera Targaryen's bedchamber. Much to the girl's surprise, the intricately woven fabric of the rug did not sting the soles of her feet, and she walked around the rug four times to enjoy the texture with a delighted look on her face.
"It doesn't hurt! It's soft!" Myrine said giddily in a high-pitched voice. Laughter ensued when Myrine gave Jaehaera a static shock when she touched her hand and the princess yelped. While she could walk on rugs now, Myrine would cross them quickly in fear of building up another charge.
But while she was conquering shyness and rugs, there was one hurdle she felt like she would never overcome. Loving her betrothed. Yes, Myrine did care for Viserys, but their relationship was more of a friendship than one between a couple that was engaged to be married. They got along swimmingly and shared a mutual appreciation for each other's merits, but affection was almost nonexistent between the two. As the two grew up, the prince did show signs of fondness towards Myrine, but she found it hard to reciprocate since she could not comprehend these budding feelings nor read Viserys's body language towards her.
To be honest, the attention terrified Myrine. She was more used to receiving platonic and familial affections from her kinsmen, and having a man try to be more friendly with her unnerved her greatly. Viserys so much as laying a hand on Lady Darklyn's shoulder produced a feeling similar to that of being dunked into ice cold water. The sensation overwhelmed Myrine's oversensitive nerves, and unsure on how to express herself, she coped by shutting herself down. She would flinch at first before become emotionless, distant, and cold; somehow this was easier to pull off than actually trying to navigate through the thick soup of human emotions.
Myrine felt bad for her betrothed since she could not reciprocate. Her disappointment increased when she noticed how Viserys ceased his efforts in trying to get closer to her. They still had fun together in the library and in the Red Keep's gardens and such, but Viserys did not try to touch her hand or shoulders anymore. Making it worse, Myrine realized that she missed how Viserys had tried to be more affectionate with her. It made her tear up when she thought about it, but she felt too much shame to tell Viserys about this though, which added more to her woes.
The closest level of intimacy that Lady Darklyn had with her betrothed was whenever they rode on Ravenscale's back together after he had grown enough to carry both of them. There was nothing like the feeling of the pure, fresh air buffeting her face; the sound of Ravenscale's wings flapping as he flew, seeing the clouds up close in the sky above and the earth far down below. Myrine would marvel at the layouts of King's Landing and the nearby towns and villages as Ravenscale flew over them, delighting in seeing birds in flight, and observing the wide blue expanse of the Narrow Sea. After one splendid afternoon of flying, Myrine had wanted to embrace Viserys after they had dismounted Ravenscale. She could feel the urge to wrap her arms around the prince build up in her biceps and forearms, but a another, familiar force kept her arms firmly planted by her sides, and feelings of disappointment and inadequacy soon filled her being.
Emotionally distant as they were, Viserys did not cease being tender with his betrothed. He comforted Myrine after she learned about her father's untimely death in 136 AC, and he escorted the disconsolate girl to the bier that held the body of Lord Gunthor Darklyn when the couple traveled to Duskendale for his funeral. Myrine wept bitterly when she saw her father's body in the sept, and she was so detached from everything that it felt as if she were gliding across the carpet. A lachrymose Myrine became silent as she contemplated her father's body. She touched his cold, still hands, which were folded and resting over his stomach.
It was those same hands that comforted Myrine the day she learned about her betrothal to Viserys six years earlier in 131 AC when they were warm with both life and fatherly love. Heartbroken, her throat tight with tears, Myrine could only mutter "I love you, papa" before she let her betrothed escort her away from the bier. Lady Darklyn's grief began to abate steadily after she witnessed her oldest brother and sister-in-law, Ser Rodrik Darklyn and Celia Staunton, be named as the new Lord and Lady of Duskendale. This abatement increased when Myrine mingled with her family. She was able to meet her nieces and nephews from her older brother and sister, Rodrik and Jenefer, too.
Myrine's younger brother, Connor, was happy to see his favorite older sister once again, and even though he was ten years old, he still called Myrine "Mywee". While the relationship between sister and brother remained unchanged, Connor was no longer interested in being read to, preferring instead to hone his swordsmanship in the Dun Fort's training yard with his and Myrine's uncles and male cousins and even against his future brother-in-law, Prince Viserys Targaryen. In lieu of her little brother, Myrine read to her small nieces and nephews at night to lull them into sleep. It was through these familial interactions that Myrine slowly began to heal and move on from the sudden loss of her father. Disconsolate when she left the Red Keep for her hometown, Myrine returned to the castle calm albeit still sorrowful.
She was quieter than usual during her first few days back at the Red Keep, but she eventually unfolded and gradually returned to her normal self over time. The following year of 137 AC would prove to be a happier one for Lady Myrine Darklyn. She celebrated with the royal family after the engagement between Lord Lyonel Tyrell and Princess Alyssa Targaryen was announced. Although the betrothal had been arranged to rectify current political tensions, Myrine could not help but point out how the future marriage would also "heal" the distant past by marrying a Targaryen princess to a scion of the Gardener kings of the Reach from before the Conquest, a dynasty whose male line was exterminated by dragonfyre during the Field of Fire in 2 BC. Having a Targaryen marry a Lannister next would finally bring the descendants of Kings Mern XI Gardener and Loren I Lannister into the good graces of the Conqueror's bloodline over a century after they had died.
"Maybe there will be two golden grooms from the families of the Two Kings." mused Myrine after the announcement was made as she thought of the Tyrell rose and the Lannister lion being wed to the Targaryen dragon in holy matrimony. Later that same year, both Myrine and Viserys returned to the Dun Fort to attend the wedding of the former's second older brother, Ser Wyllis Darklyn, to Lady Eris Rosby, the eldest child of the Lord of Rosby. Invited to the Darklyn-Rosby wedding alongside the couple were Prince Aegon the Younger and Lady Thea Celtigar. Thea was the bride's second cousin since their respective mother and father were first cousins, with Lady Adela's mother having been Lord Rosby's paternal aunt.
Wyllis' wedding made Myrine nervous once more about her upcoming marriage the following year. Although she had grown to appreciate Viserys after what he had done for her during her father's funeral, their relationship still remained distant and lukewarm at best. By the end of 137 AC, Myrine believed that her future marriage to Rhaenyra I's youngest son would ultimately be a loveless one. She envisioned her married life consisting of her and Viserys spending most of their time apart, the only time they spent time together as husband and wife being their visits to the royal library or going out hawking in the Kingswood. Myrine even believed, and hoped, that her marriage would never be consummated.
Reluctant enough already to accept Prince Viserys' touches, Myrine dreaded the idea of him being on top of her as well as inside of her. She had wanted to ask Thea in private about what it was like to have sex after she married Aegon the Younger, but nervousness kept Myrine's mouth shut, and she never got around to ask her friend about the intimate aspects of her married life. However, Lady Darklyn did gain a visible answer, so to speak, by observing Aegon and Thea. They were so close and happy together, a closeness that kept them strong in the face of two miscarriages. Both Myrine and Jaehaera prayed for their friend to finally have a living child her own.
Prayers for a miracle increased tenfold after Thea became pregnant again for a third time during the first days of 138 AC. And once more, those prayers were not answered. One night late during the first moon, Thea awoke to the feeling of liquid dampening the sheets between her legs. Bolting up in terror, Thea tore off her blanket and pressed her hand down on the wet sheets. She could detect the scent of blood on her fingers when she sniffed them.
Myrine knew that something was wrong the following morning when she noticed that both Aegon and Thea were absent for breakfast, and that everyone who was in the Queen's Ballroom seemed morose. Three miscarriages. One child lost for each year the prince and Lady Celtigar were married. Myrine could not imagine the pain and anguish that her friend and her husband were going through. She did not know what to say to Thea as she comforted the grieving woman in her bedchamber the morning after the miscarriage other than to say that she was sorry that another pregnancy had been cut so short in such a traumatic way.
Lady Darklyn also noticed how Aegon the Younger did not promise his wife that a child would be born to them like he did after the first two pregnancies were miscarried. Myrine could not help but notice how dark Aegon's eyes were as he consoled Thea. She had the feeling that the prince's hopes of becoming a father had been extinguished along with his third unborn child. As the women at the royal court showered sympathy upon Lady Thea Celtigar, the men offered support to Aegon. The prince's third older half-brother, Prince Joffrey Velaryon, was especially careful when he expressed his sympathies since his wife was four months pregnant with their third child at the time.
A distraction from this sorrow came in the form of the Royal Progress to the Three Daughters. Held two months after Thea's miscarriage, the progress was a magnificent affair. Ravaged by the chaos and bloodshed of the Triarchy Civil War five years earlier, the progress was not only meant to serve as a building block to restore the Three Daughters' ties to the Iron Throne, but to also showcase Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh's progress in rebuilding themselves under the occupation of Braavos, Pentos, and Lorath. Stopping at Pentos before sailing south down the eastern coastline of Essos, the Targaryen's first stop on this progress was Tyrosh. The royal party was welcomed with great and colorful fanfare by the Tyroshi as their dragons and fleet arrived at the Bleeding Tower that stood watch over the mouth of the city's harbor.
Fourteen year old Myrine was amazed by the Tyroshi's fashion sense. It appeared that these people dyed their hair with every known color in the world, and Myrine could see heads of green, blue, red, purple, and pink hair along with a few natural colors of brown and black. As if the hair colors were not strange enough, Myrine also got to see the wonderfully bizarre hats that the Tyroshi wore when the ones that were joyously thrown up into the air landed on the deck of the ship she was on. These hats were either decorated with colorful exotic feathers or shells, or had intricate patterns woven into them with brightly colored thread. A variety of equally diverse accents could also be heard amongst the cheering and joyful shouts of the assembled crowd.
Greeting the Targaryen's once they made landfall was the Archon of Tyrosh himself and a representative of the Lorathi occupation. His black hair was dyed with crimson streaks, a clear indicator that the Archon was attempting to display solidarity with the dragon queen and her family. Both he and the Lorathi man knelt down when Rhaenyra I and Daemon approached him after dismounting their dragons, and the men kissed both their hands when they were offered to them. Flanking the Archon of Tyrosh were members of the Unsullied, the famous slave born warriors from the faraway city of Astapor in Old Ghis. The Targaryen's were in awe of these men, and Myrine could not help but think of the "Three-Thousand of Qohor" as she observed the spiked helms, round shields, short-spears and swords that the Archon's Unsullied bodyguards were equipped with.
The Archon hosted the Targaryen's at his palace where he offered his royal guests Tyroshi pear brandy and readily handed out honeyfingers to Rhaenyra and Daemon's grandchildren. Enjoying distilled pear juice and sweet, fluffy confectionary aside, Myrine also got the chance to marvel at Tyrosh's other famed goods. She got to see the wares of the city's famed armorers and dyers as the Targaryen's toured the place. Wares such as helms crafted to resemble bulls, eagles, lions, wolves, dragons, and seahorses; suits of armor chased with precious metals and engraved with intricate designs, and rolls of fabric and clothes dyed in rich hues of purple, pink, and blue. Westeros seemed so drab in comparison to Tyrosh.
The Black Targaryen's next destination after Tyrosh was Myr. Myrmen lined the reconstructed docks along the waterfront to welcome the royal family with cheering and throwing flowers in the air. Bland in comparison to the Tyroshi, Myrine noticed how the Myrmen looked similar to people from Dorne with their olive skin and black hair. The city's magisters greeted the royal family with a representative of the Pentoshi occupation, a younger brother of the Prince of Pentos, present. Standing quietly off to the side were the slaves who served the magisters and who also drove their wheelhouses.
Myrine noticed that the slaves wore collars around their necks as if they were dogs, and that they had also been branded like cattle on either their cheeks or biceps. Tyrosh was a slave city too, but they did not label their human property like their Myrish counterparts do as far as Lady Darklyn knew. Whether or not a slave was collared or branded, Myrine figured that whichever Free City a slave lived in, they were no stranger to whippings and general mistreatment at the hands of their owners. It made her appreciate her high birth all the more. This became even more complicated when Myrine saw how the enslaved scribes and manservants who attended to the magisters in their manses wore better clothes and snubbed their "lesser" counterparts who either worked in the kitchens, swept and scrubbed the floors, or emptied their master's chamber pot.
Held in higher esteem to these "higher" slaves of Myr's politicians were the slaves who made the city's most valuable commodities: lace, carpets, lenses, and pale green nectar wine. These items were presented to the royal family as they toured Myr. Myrine noticed how her future mother-in-law fawned over all of the Myrish lace she saw, but Rhaenyra I made a point to visit the city's most renown lacemaker, to whom she had been a patron since childhood, to look at their wares. The queen took Myrine with her on this visit so that she could look at samples of lace for her wedding dress. The girl's grey eyes widened as she stared with enthrallment at the exquisite lacework that were woven with thread of ivory, gold, or maroon in beautiful patterns and designs.
Myrine chose the golden lace, and Rhaenyra commissioned for it be woven with a pattern of escutcheons and lozenges to pay homage to the shapes that decorated House Darklyn's heraldry. The queen's generosity was a pleasant surprise for Myrine. She thought that Rhaenyra did not really like her that much due to her quietness and dearth of emotion. She was also a little scared of Rhaenyra, but the queen's kindness to her helped to abate some of Myrine's fears. The girl thanked the queen three times that day after the visit to the lacemakers.
The last destination of the progress was Lys, and the Targaryen's traveled through the Disputed Lands and before setting sail/flying there once they reached the sea again. Visiting this city gave the scholarly Myrine an inkling as to what Old Valyria may have been like before the Doom destroyed it. Whether they be merchants or beggars, the Lyseni possessed silver-gold hair and purple eyes just like their Westerosi cousins in the Crownlands. Sunlight glinted off the gold and silvery heads of the people who swamped the docks, dazzling the eyes of the incoming Targaryen entourage as they reached Lys. Lovely men and women smelling of sweet perfume and holding baskets full of fruits and flowers greeted the Targaryen's as they disembarked.
Myrine wondered if these people were either Lys's finest bed slaves or courtesans. Whoever they were, the welcoming party gifted the entourage with ripe dates, oranges, and palm fruit, and frilly flowers that were shaped like stars and cups whose petals were white, pink, yellow, and orange, or white streaked with purple and red. Myrine had tasted oranges and dates before thanks to Duskendale being a major trading port, but she had never had a palm fruit before, and she could not wait to try it later. Overwhelmed with exotic fruits and blooms aside, Queen Rhaenyra's family and court were also greeted formally by Lys' magisters, a representative of the Bravosi occupation, and both Lys's First Magister and his family. The identity of that First Magister was Fredo Rogare, the oldest living son of the late Lysandro the Magnificent, and one of the younger brothers of the also deceased Lysaro Rogare, the coconspirator of Lord Jasper Wylde during the short-lived Wylde Rebellion in 130 AC.
Most of the Rogare family were with Fredo when they greeted the same queen that the dishonorable Lysaro had tried to help overthrow eight years before. Relatives like Fredo's wife, daughters, and grandchildren, and his younger siblings: Moredo, Lotho, Lysara, and Marra and their families. Unlike most of his siblings, Lotho Rogare was fluent in the Common Tongue, and he acted as a translator for both his family and Queen Rhaenyra. Myrine thought that the Lysene language sounded like birds singing when she heard the Rogare's speak. From Lotho's Common Tongue translations, Myrine learned of the Lysene title of "gonfaloniere", which is an elected military official in Lys, and it was a title that was held by Lord Moredo Rogare.
Befitting his title as a military leader, Moredo wielded a Valyiran Steel longsword named "Truth". Lotho regaled the Targaryen's on how Moredo had to unsheathe Truth a few times when his fellow Lyseni protested the return of the Rogare's. However, necessity trumped bad blood, for Lys' economy was in shambles in the aftermath of the Three Daughters' War, and the banking family was welcomed back begrudgingly. It was a rocky road, but the present Rogare's looked to have regained most of the good clout they had before 130 AC. The beautiful men and women with the fruit and flower baskets were from Fredo's reclaimed pleasure house, "the Perfumed Garden".
Lotho also informed the royal family on the whereabouts of his other siblings. Drako had been residing in Volantis since his family's fall, and his youngest brother Roggerio was visiting him with his famous pleasure craft, "the Mermaid's Daughter". The youngest Rogare sibling, Lady Larra Rogare, was living in Dorne with her husband, Prince Qyle Martell, and their children under the reign of her sister-in-law, Princess Aliandra Martell, who was also the widow of the Rogare siblings' late uncle, Prince Drazenko Rogare. Sipping fine red and white wines at the Rogare's manse at night, Myrine viewed the wares of Lys' finest craftsmen by day as the royals toured the city streets. Beautifully forged dirks, elegant glass bottles full of heady perfumes that smelled of flowers, spices, and sandalwood; and tapestries whose intricately woven beauty rivaled that of Myr's masterworks delighted both Myrine's sight and sense of smell as everyone made their way through the marketplaces.
She also saw more of the city's renown pleasure slaves. Either captured and sold or born into bondage, these slaves were a sight to behold with their sculpted faces and voluptuous and chiseled figures. Myrine could not imagine what lives these people led day after day, night after night catering to the lusts of the free population of Lys. What kept them going? Hope of manumission, or the possibility of becoming a kept man or woman to a member of the nobility?
Advancement in slavery is difficult if not nigh impossible, so how did these people get through their days in the meantime? Love potions? Myrine then had an idea. She was very nervous about her wedding night. What if she had a little "extra push" to help her cross that seemingly indomitable threshold?
One night, as she was preparing for bed, Myrine built up the courage to ask her Lyseni maid about where she could get a love potion. There was a slight language barrier since the maid knew only a few snippets of the Common Tongue, but thankfully for Myrine, the girl seemed to understand the words "love" and "potion". The morning after this exchange took place, the maid presented Myrine with a small glass vial that was embossed with the image of Lys's beloved goddess of love and was filled with a dark red, syrupy looking liquid.
"Drink bottle or with wine." the maid explained in broken Common Tongue. Myrine glanced at the contents of the vial. The consistency of the liquid brought back childhood memories of being given viscous, foul-tasting medicines by Maester Caldon whenever she and her siblings came down with a sickness. Maybe, in a sense, love potions were like medicine.
They cured ailments whether they be colds or impotency, and taste did not matter as long as the remedy did its job. Despite the goddess's image on the vial, a lingering feeling of paranoia plagued Myrine. What if the maid had misunderstood her and had gotten her a vial of poison instead? Myrine spoke a little slowly when she asked the maid to reaffirm that this was indeed a love potion.
"This is exactly what I asked for last night, correct? A love potion?"
The maid nodded her head rapidly.
"Yes, yes. Potion for making love with husband."
The girl then winked at Myrine, who in turn blushed. Flustered, Myrine then gave the maid a pair of her velvet slippers as payment for getting the philter for her, and dismissed the girl from her bedchamber. The royal progress ended soon thereafter when Queen Rhaenyra I Targaryen officially ended the occupation of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh by Braavos, Pentos, and Lorath with all of the major politicians of those Free Cities present at the magisterial palace in Lys, and declared that the former Triarchy members were friends of the Iron Throne once more. After returning home, Queen Rhaenyra, who was immensely pleased with the hospitality she and her family received by her hosts, gifted Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh each with large, beautiful iron bells that were decorated with images of dragons and seahorses.
These so called "Iron Peace Bells" were the Master of Coin's idea, and not only were these three instruments meant to symbolize the new relationship between the former Triarchy and Westeros, they were also meant to be rung on the commemorative anniversary of the War of the Three Daughters'. The Lyseni, Myrmen, and Tyroshi appreciated the gifts, and the bells were given places of honor at the magisterial palaces of those cities. Some Essosi went so far as to claim that those bells were similar to "the Three Bells of Norvos": "Noom, Narrah, and Nyel". Reportedly, these remarks have earned the speaker cross words by a Norvoshi listener from time to time since the bequeathal of the Iron Peace Bells.
After everyone had settled down after the Royal Progress in the Three Daughters, the wedding of Prince Viserys Targaryen and Lady Myrine Darklyn was held at King's Landing. Other than the bride's family, her extended family members from Houses Massey and Stokeworth attended the wedding along with the Duskendale families of Dargood, Darke, and Darkwood, and the Darklyn's closest bannerman, House Hollard. Relatives of Myrine's brother-in-law, Ser Amos Bracken, and sisters-in-law from Houses Bracken, Rosby, and Staunton were also invited to attend her wedding. On the morning of her wedding, a fourteen year old Myrine was attended to by a slew of maidservants and her mother, grandmother, sister, and Aunt Elinda and Cousin Elinor Massey.
Her wedding gown was a sight to behold. It was made of white samite with the gold, patterned Myrish lace that Queen Rhaenyra had commissioned during the royal progress. Myrine sat on a burning question as her mother brushed her hair. She twiddled her thumbs and curled her lips as she tried to build up the courage to ask. Deciding to just wing it, Myrine blurted out, "Mother, what was your wedding night like?" Everyone in the room froze and an awkward silence descended.
Meredyth, brush still in hand and half-way through her youngest daughter's long brown hair, gently removed and put down the brush before turning to address the other attendees.
"Pardon me, my ladies. But I believe my daughter wishes to speak with me about a personal matter. Be so kind as to give us some privacy for the time being. I promise that it will be quick."
Meredyth turned to face Myrine as soon as the other women had left the room and shut the door behind them.
"Now, sweetling, it is my turn to ask. Are you nervous about your wedding night?"
Amazed by her mother's ability to get right to the point, Myrine bashfully nodded. The Dowager Lady of Duskendale sighed, smiled, and wrapped her arm around Myrine's shoulder. Meredyth's touch comforted the blushing bride that was her second born daughter.
"Every maid is nervous about her wedding night. It is perfectly natural. I was nervous myself when it came time for my marriage to be consummated."
"When it came time?" Myrine asked.
"I married your father the same year the Young King held the tourney to celebrate the fifth year of his marriage to Queen Alicent Hightower. Your father was three and twenty and I was only a girl of eleven when we were married. Too young to be bedded. We waited five years to finally lay together as man and wife. Seven bless him, your father was gentle with me that night, and we started our family shortly after that."
Myrine nodded her head softly as she listened to her mother.
"Did it hurt?" she asked hesitantly.
"It did, but it passed." replied Meredyth.
"Am I still too young to have my marriage consummated?" Myrine blurted out. Her stomach dropped when she saw her mother shake her head.
"You flowered last year, Myrine. You are a woman in the eyes of men and gods. Prince Viserys will decide what he will do with you as you both lay in your wedding bed tonight."
A nervous Myrine looked away from her mother, and she began to wring her hands. Seeing how her daughter's demeanor had changed caused Meredyth to regret what she had said. She removed her arm from Myrine's shoulder and she clasped both her hands into hers.
"However, just like your father, Viserys may wait to bed you for another year or two after you turn either fifteen or sixteen. He looks like a gentleman. Just wait until tonight and see. Whatever happens, happens. Count yourself fortunate, for there have been girls younger than you who have been married off to men older than the prince who have had their unions consummated on their wedding night. Have you ever heard of Lord Unwin Peake?
The Lord of Starpike, Dunstonbury, and Whitegrove?"
Myrine nodded and her mother continued.
"Maester Caldon's uncle served the husband of Unwin's firstborn daughter, a man who was twice her age if not more, and Lady Peake was only eleven when she married him. Her young age did not keep her lord husband from consummating the marriage and impregnating her. That poor girl died in agony on her birthing bed when she was only two and ten with Caldon's uncle attending to her. Her newborn son died soon after she did..."
Myrine furrowed her brow in disgust and her mouth opened slightly in disbelief. How could anyone do that to a young girl? What had happened to the late Lady Peake was the very definition of obscene, and Myrine felt immensely sorry for both her and her deceased baby boy. She also did feel lucky that she was marrying Viserys, who was two years older than her, rather than a perverted lord who was old enough to be her father. But while Myrine did find some comfort in her conversation with her mother, she now had another thing to worry about: death by childbirth.
There were so many questions to ask, yet so little time to ask them. Meredyth reassured her daughter once more before bringing the women outside back into the bedroom to resume preparing Myrine for her wedding. The preparations were interrupted once more just fifteen minutes later by a knock at the door. Opening the door revealed a man wearing Targaryen livery carrying a small wood and iron chest in his hands.
"A thousand pardons, miladies." the man began. "but his royal grace, Prince Viserys Targaryen, wished for me to deliver this gift for his soon to be lady wife."
A high hum of "oohs" resounded throughout the bedchamber. The man made his way through to where Myrine was seated. Stopping to kneel in front of the bride, the man opened the chest. Resting on a bed of rich purple velvet was a beautiful crown. Myrine's eyes widened when she saw it, and all of the women chittered with excitement. The crown was a band of green-gold that was inlaid with rectangular pieces of nacreous abalone shell with the corners cut off.
Myrine was in awe of this wedding present from her betrothed. Tears were even beginning to form in her eyes. Blinking the tears away, Myrine reached into the chest and gingerly picked up the crown.
"Where did he get this?" Myrine asked as she examined the crown.
"Myr. It was during her majesty Queen Rhaenyra's royal progress there. His grace purchased it from a goldsmith's stall while you were with his lady mother looking at lace together. Prince Viserys said that he felt that this crown looked like it would fit you perfectly."
"It is perfect." Myrine said as she turned the crown around one last time before she lifted it up over head. Meredyth quickly took hold of her daughter's crown, and she gently laid it down on Myrine's brushed, smooth, straight hair."
The women all crowded around Myrine as she got up to go look at herself in a mirror. The crown hid her widows peak as well as make her look more regal.
"You look like a queen, Myrine." Jenefer said as she observed her younger sister.
"I do." Myrine said softly as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Shortly after receiving this gift, Myrine was finally ready for her wedding. She and Viserys were married in the capital city's main sept on Visenya's Hill. The wedding was a spectacular event. Not only was Rhaenyra I's youngest son getting married, the relationship between Houses Darklyn and Targaryen were going to become even stronger too through this marriage. The Darklyn's even added a new addition to their coat-of-arms to celebrate the strenghtening of their ties to the Iron Throne: a sable horizontal bar that depicted the crimson Targaryen dragon that was connected to the top of the vertical red one on House Darklyn's heraldry that displayed the white shields of Darklyn King/Queensguard knights.
In lieu of her late father, Lady Myrine Darklyn was walked down the aisle by her oldest brother, Lord Rodrik Darklyn. Nervous as she had been, even Myrine could not help but smile as she got closer to both the altar and Viserys. Seeing his bride's smile caused the sixteen year old Viserys to grin back at her, making Myrine blush a bit. Once the altar had been reached, Rodrik removed Myrine's wedding cape, and the royal groom fastened the House Targaryen's colors to her shoulders. History had been made, and Gunthor's voice rang out in his daughter's head.
"For over a century, House Darklyn has sent sons to become Kingsguard knights, and now, thanks to your Great-Uncle Steffon, we shall send a daughter to become the wife of a Targaryen prince! You will be the first for our House, Myrine."
Myrine sighed wistfully, and her own voice filled her head.
"And it has happened, father. It has happened."
Heh, she did not even call him papa anymore in her mind.
"You look lovely, Myrine." Viserys said. "How do you like your crown?"
"I love it." she said without hesitation.
Myrine fell silent as the septon began to speak. She stood perfectly still and listened carefully to what the septon was saying as he presided over the ceremony, determined to not make a fool out of herself at her own wedding by mishearing what the holy man had said. When it came time for the kiss, Myrine felt herself becoming frozen to where she stood, but she willed herself to do what she had to do. She squeezed Viserys' hands and extended her neck and met his lips with hers. It was the first kiss for both the bride and groom.
The kiss was quick but pleasant, and Myrine felt a twinge of excitement after her lips parted from her husband's. So far, two of Myrine's wedding fears had been calmed, although not in the order that they were during the wedding of Aegon the Younger and Thea. She was a beautiful bride, and her and Viserys' kiss, although not as romantic as Aegon and Thea's looked, was good in its own way. All that was left to do was to see if a consummation would take place that night. Lady Darklyn was able to quell that fear for the time being as she enjoyed the wedding feast and festivities.
Other than feasting and dancing, Myrine also observed what the wedding guests and her family and friends were doing at their tables. Connor was engaged in an arm-wrestling match with one of his Massey cousins. Jenefer and Celia were seated next to each other and from what Myrine could hear, the two were talking about children and the new babies they had had that year. Pleasant subject as that was, Myrine could not help but cringe when she noticed that Aegon and Thea were within earshot of the two women. They looked uncomfortable and sad as the bride's older sister and sister-in-law chatted away about their families without a care in the world.
Prince Joffrey Velaryon and Lady Nell Beesbury were seated next to Aegon and Thea, and they were just as solemn since they had lost their third child to a cradle death that same year... Myrine was torn between wanting to say something to Jenefer and Celia, or not to make a fuss at all. Thankfully, Prince Aegon the Younger spoke up and gently informed the two women about the sensitive nature of their topic of conversation, and Ladies Darklyn and Staunton stopped and began offering a slew of apologies. An uncomfortable silence descended upon that table soon thereafter. Feeling bad for everyone involved, Myrine felt relieved nevertheless that the issue had been resolved.
Sometime before midnight, the bedding ritual was called to begin. Myrine did her best to contain her nervousness as the male wedding guests began to disrobe her. Thankfully, her disrobement was being overseen by her brothers and their granduncle and cousins in the Queensguard; she could not have been more well looked after in this case. Viserys' disrobement was being watched over by his mother and older half-sisters. Myrine did not like having her wedding gown removed, but she especially disliked it when one of the guests removed her crown and handed it to Rodrik for him to hold onto until the following morning.
Her heart began to beat faster as the men carried her to her marital bed, especially when she realized that she had forgotten to imbibe the love potion due to the busyness of the wedding preparations. Moments later, the blushing bride was joined by her husband after he was deposited alongside her by the female wedding guests. Myrine cringed when she heard the vulgar suggestions and crude jokes that were being made by the guests as they departed from the bedchamber. Her body started tremble, her breathing became heavier, and tears began to well up in her eyes. It became worse when Viserys rolled over and took hold of her wrists.
Myrine did not feel aroused by this. All she felt was an overwhelming sense of dread and hesitation. When the prince lowered his face down to kiss her, Myrine began to wildly shake her head about and struggle.
"No! No! No!" she blabbered as tears began to streak down her face.
Viserys was taken aback by his wife's outburst and he got off of her immediately.
"What is the matter, Myrine?" Viserys asked as he tried to console the hysterical girl. She had drawn her knees up to her chest and was covering her mouth her hand to try to stifle the noises that were coming from it. Viserys said nothing as he gently rubbed Myrine's shoulder. He carefully asked his earlier question again once Myrine had calmed down a bit. Myrine looked Viserys in the eye and sniffled.
"I..." she whimpered. "I... I'm too scared to do this."
"I see." the prince said. The sting of disappointment hurt Myrine, causing her self-esteem to crumble.
"I'm so sorry..." muttered Myrine. "I am so, so sorry..."
"You do not have anything to apologize for, Myrine." Viserys said in a reassuring tone. "I can wait until you feel ready. What do you think of that?"
A lachrymose Myrine nodded silently in agreement.
"Tomorrow night." Myrine thought. "I can use the love potion then."
"Can we try again tomorrow night?" she asked nervously.
"Of course." Viserys said and he gave his wife a gentle smile. "Or we can wait a year."
Frazzled, but starting to feel comfortable at last, Myrine impulsively crawled up next to Viserys and she rested her head on his chest. Confused by Myrine's rapid mood swings from normal to hysterical to calm in the space of a few minutes, Viserys nevertheless wrapped his arms around his wife as they both settled in for their first night together as man and wife. Myrine felt safe in her husband's embrace, and she smiled sweetly to herself. This was not so bad; the prince was indeed a gentleman through and through.
To quiet the storm that had overtaken her mind, Myrine escaped once more into her little world. Was this how King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne Targaryen spent their first night together after their secret first wedding on Dragonstone eighty-nine years earlier in 49 AC? Alysanne was a year younger than Myrine was that year when she married her brother-king, and both she and Jaehaerys I had to wait two years to consummate their incestuous union so as to avoid a second Faith Militant Uprising. It took the passing of the Doctrine of Exceptionalism for the king and queen to finally be out together openly as a married couple, and they had a public second wedding before the Iron Throne. Brother and sister's second wedding night finally saw the consummation of their marriage when they were seventeen and fifteen years old respectively.
"I wander if our marriage will ever be like theirs?" thought Myrine as she envisioned herself witnessing the two weddings of the Old King and Good Queen Alysanne.