The Princess and the Queen 29: The Blue Princess
It took a while until they actually departed King's Landing. It must have been some hours since their party left the Red Keep's gates for the harbour, as most of that time was spent on elaborate goodbyes to half of the damn court. Two dragons soared overhead, both seemingly agitated by all the waiting.
We shall only be gone for a week.
Baela's feet ached from standing by the harbour for so long, smiling at all those lords offering their best wishes to them, and declaring that they would be praying for good winds and a swift journey.
I hope the whole visit shall be swift.
Lord Bar Emmon, Lord Costayne, and Lady Ryger were there, as well as some other lesser lords and landed knights, hoping that their version of the same words uttered to the royal family would be the one they would remember.
After a while, it became a bit of a blur, and Baela's cheeks ached from the smiles, and her ears felt numb from the wind coming from the cool sea. Eventually, though, everyone else had seen their farewells, and now it was time for her family to give their farewell.
Her uncle, Ser Daeron, rubbed her shoulders whilst her great-uncle Vaemond told a jape that made Daeron spit out the wine in his mouth.
"Have fun there on Dragonstone, Baela," smiled Uncle Laenor. "It has been too long since I stepped foot on that island. Make sure to find Aemon another dragon egg."
"I don't think Aemon will be returning with an egg," chuckled Grandfather. "He'll be coming back with a dragon."
"There are quite a few to choose from," remarked Grandmother.
"There are the wild dragons," said Vaegon, counting with his fingers. "Also Tyraxes, Dreamfyre…"
"Vermithor…" added Valaena.
"You shall be spoiled with all the options, dear," laughed Grandmother
"As if my brother is not spoiled already," snorted Baela, which prompted a punch in the thigh from Aemon.
"I don't think you are spoiled enough," Grandmother said, ruffling Aemon's pale gold hair and giving him a wet kiss on the cheek.
They all exchanged some more words before Baela's grandparents gave her and her siblings another hug, and she climbed onto the boat. There were no other people Baela wished to speak to, as she had already wished farewell to all her friends the night prior, and none of them were here in the harbour now.
All too drunk from last night… thank the Seven I chose not to fill my cups too much.
Daeron, meanwhile, spoke to Jocelyn some more before giving her a peck on the lips and then had a short but eager conversation with Ser Otto Hightower, which was too low for Baela to hear. Grandfather looked on ruefully, but still smiled at Daeron when the conversation ended. Once that was done, they all climbed on board the Blue Dragon, the newest carrack of the royal fleet, and waved at the onlookers below as they left the harbour.
The ship was massive, with four masts jutting out of it, all of which flew the arms of House Targaryen, a red dragon on a field of black. In truth, it was much too big of a boat to make such a short journey and better suited for long voyages to the Jade Sea or Qarth. However, Mother insisted that it would be an excellent way to honour the Blue Dragon for its first-ever voyage.
That and a show of strength to Rhaenyra, who supposedly has her own fleet being built across the water.
Once the harbour was well out of sight and everyone on it became smaller than ants, Baela turned to Daeron and sighed whilst chuckling.
"Finally, that bloody farce is over," Baela whispered as Daeron nodded his agreement. "I should have just climbed on board the moment we reached the city gates."
"Even I would have if I could. I am going to change into something more comfortable," he replied.
"I am going to sleep," she sighed, prompting a chuckle from Daeron.
"Hells, I may as well do that, too," he replied. "I wanted to take a walk through the entire ship, but mayhaps on the morrow, my legs are bloody aching."
"Well, it is better than being seasick," said Baela, cocking her head to the side.
"That is true," he agreed. "At least I don't have to worry about that anymore."
"I still remember the days you used to turn purple at the very sight of a boat," she laughed.
"I was only seven!" he protested as Tessarion flew overhead, letting out a loud squeal. Moondancer followed the blue dragon, her pale green wings shimmering in the high sun. "See, even Tess knows that!"
"I think she's just glad to not be circling the air for any longer," said Baela as Moondancer roared her approval, dipping so her pearl underbody scraped the dark waves, before bearing off to the side, likely in search of some food.
They walked across the deck of the Blue Dragon for a small while, nodding at the crewmen and admiring the sheer size of the monstrosity. Daeron probably knew the project's toll on the royal coffers, but Baela didn't want to know.
"Grandfather likely wishes at least one of the sails bears the seahorse instead," Baela laughed.
"This is part of the royal fleet, not the Velaryon one," Daeron replied, before lowering his voice. "Though I hear he is planning for an even larger ship to be built in some moons time, to add to Driftmark's arsenal."
"Even bigger than this one?" scoffed Baela as Daeron nodded earnestly, his dark purple eyes wide.
"And instead of having to settle for blue waves being painted on its hull, all of the sails will have the blue seahorse," he said, stopping and pointing at the little flag fluttering at the top of the largest, central mast. "I did not notice that up there."
"Ah, that is a sight," Baela replied, squinting at the flag. It was a quartered sigil, with two quarters bearing the red dragon of Targaryen, and the other two the silver seahorse of Velaryon.
"Mother's personal arms," whispered Daeron, a small smile creeping onto his face.
"I am surprised Father allowed that," she said, flicking her silver-gold hair away from her eyes. "Though it's not like he would notice."
After admiring the deck of the Blue Dragon, they decided to descend to below decks whilst Mother spoke to the captain, with Ser Criston by her, and Aemon, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. The King, meanwhile, had already been taken to his quarters instantly since a boat ride proved too painful for his weak stomach.
Most things prove too much for him these days, including supper with his children.
"Did you see Lord Florent this morning?" Daeron asked as they went down the steps into the dim torchlit cabin areas.
"Hmmm…" she said, thinking if she could remember seeing a Reachman with abnormally large ears. "I do not think I did, no."
"Well, from what I saw of the man, he was clad in varying shades of red, and seemed to be stuck at the hip to Lord Alan Tarly," he replied dejectedly.
"Ah, Brightwater Keep was neutral prior to that, if I recall."
"Aye, and I think I may be culpable for his decision to don red attire this morning," he frowned.
"And why do you have that notion?" Baela asked, stopping to face her brother, her tone serious.
"Yesterday, Lord Florent's daughter asked if she would be a suitable bride for me."
"But you're betrothed," said Baela, confused at where Daeron was leading this. "If her and her ears' terms for supporting you were to end your betrothal with Jocelyn, she wasn't going to side with you regardless," she chuckled, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You worry too much, truly, Daeron."
He cannot honestly think this was his doing.
"I know…" he laughed bitterly. "It was just niggling on my mind for the past few hours. I told Mother about it-"
"It was not your fault, seven hells," scoffed Baela. "If you think you are to blame for that, then you must also think the reason House Tarly are supporters of our half-sister is due to me!"
"You losing Tarly?" asked Daeron, perplexed. "I am not certain if I follow."
"Lord Tarly only chose his faction because of his bitter rivalry with the Peakes, and my acquaintance with Unwin is what swayed him," explained Baela. "So with that, you can blame me for losing Horn Hill."
"That's just horseshit, Baela," he laughed. "Lord Unwin was one of the earliest members of Mother's faction, before you even knew the man."
"Exactly," she bluntly said.
"Very well," he sighed, his eyes seeming relieved. "In truth, the chatter says the reason Lord Unwin favours blue attire is that he believes a woman should never inherit," Daeron scoffed, shaking his head.
"I am aware," she nodded, not looking forward to what Daeron would say next. She knew her big brother's opinion of Unwin Peake and how he disapproved of their friendship.
He does not trust the man, but what person in King's Landing can you truly trust?
"Did you go out to an inn with him last night?" he asked casually.
"Him, and some others," replied Baela. "Aly, Ben, Oscar Tully, and some men from the Gold Cloaks."
"I know he mislikes the inns and the sort, but did Ser Kermit not come along?"
"Me leaving the city was not enough to convince him enough," Baela frowned. Her betrothed could be terribly dull at times, compared to her younger brother and other Riverlanders.
I cannot believe he retched at the thought of kissing other girls, or even boys!
"Did you enjoy yourself last night, at least?" he asked. Even though the question was sincere, Baela knew Daeron was disheartened at her missing supper upon finding out about their father's absence.
"Aye, well enough," Baela replied. "But I remember all of it, which means it wasn't that enjoyable," she added, garnering a chuckle from Daeron.
"That is good to hear," he smiled warmly.
They walked in silence through the below decks until they found what was their separate rooms. Before they departed, Baela turned to Daeron.
"I… I am sorry for not having supper with you and Mother last night," she said slowly. "It was just… I should have."
"It is no worry, truly," Daeron replied, giving her a small embrace. "I understand."
Baela's cabin was tight, as was expected from a ship cabin, but more spacious than any other she had ever seen. It was lit with two lanterns which made the oak walls. The ceiling was low and arched at the edges, and a table jutted out from the wall opposite the door. On the right of the entrance, a straw mattress lined with silk and wool quilts was on a raised wooden table, and there was a wooden chest in which Baela could store some belongings.
Upon seeing the bed, she kicked off her boots and dived into the bed, not even bothering to change from her dark blue jerkin and breeches into nightclothes. The bed somehow felt even more comfortable than her usual bed in the Red Keep. She was not sleepy, just tired from all the standing and the early waking, but she remained in the bed for a while regardless, staring up at the wooden ceiling, listening to the distant chatter of crewmen, faint footsteps around the carrack, and the low sloshing of waves.
She thought about Unwin Peake and how Daeron didn't hold the highest opinion of the man. Still, she did wonder whether that was because of his squire, Ser Loras Mullendore, whose father had gotten into a scuffle with Unwin Peake's bastard brother at some tourney at Goldengrove some years ago.
He is ambitious and cunning, but Starpike's loyalty to Mother is invaluable, especially if Rhaenyra tries gaining the fellowship of Lord Borros or Dorne, or both.
It was somewhat quaint that Unwin Peake drank and laughed with those who could be of age with his son, but it was not unusual. As far as Baela knew, he was unlike her uncle Daemon, who supposedly preferred the company of little girls.
Is that rumour about the Rogue Prince true, or conjured up by the Lord Hand?
It was most likely the former. Prince Daemon was a dashing man, yet Lady Alicent shivered when speaking of him, and Valaena would shrivel up even more than she already did. Baela's mind went back to some years ago when she was but a girl of twelve, and also the last time she saw the man.
I do distinctly remember him staring at me for quite a while, even if I did try to avoid making eye contact with him…
Over the next few days, the novelty of the cabin and straw mattress did wear out, and Baela's body begged for a bed in an actual castle. The Blue Dragon was undoubtedly comfortable and grand, but nowhere near the comfort of the Red Keep. Luckily, she didn't truly mind and enjoyed standing by the edge, letting the wind blow her short hair and splashes of salty water hit her face.
The journey was only a few days, and soon enough, the island of Dragonstone was in sight. Despite the short trip, she had gotten into a sort of routine consisting of waking, eating, swords with Ser Criston, chatting to the crewmen, eating again, chatting some more, and sleeping.
She saw Mother and Daeron often, and would chat to them about mundane matters, but knew that a conversation would eventually happen about what to expect on Dragonstone and, even more importantly, how to act. Baela saw Aemon less often, since the boy spent most of his time sulking in his cabin and all of his time outside the cabin complaining. It was mildly amusing, especially to the foul-mouthed crewmen with whom Baela made fast friends. Meanwhile, the King was seasick every day, and Baela never saw a glimpse of the old man.
Thank the Seven for that; I would probably become seasick, too, if I saw his face.
One of the serving boys called Pate, a freckled youth of ten-and-four with red hair, was the one who summoned Baela up to the deck, where Mother and everyone else were waiting. The boy stuttered on his words when speaking, and Baela's chuckles just made him stutter even more and turn red.
"Very well, Pate," she laughed. "Tell my mother I shall be there shortly."
She changed into more formal attire, a navy doublet embroidered with a silver dragon and a leather belt around her waist. Her breeches matched the doublet whilst her boots were black. An aquamarine cape lined with cloth-of-silver draped her shoulders whilst the gemstones on her earrings were the same light purple as her eyes. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and made her way up.
On the deck, everyone was already there. Mother had her arm tightened onto Aemon's shoulder, whose face was pursed into a scowl, whilst Ser Criston and Ser Erryk Cargyll flanked them. Daeron leaned on a post with Ser Steffon Darklyn next to him. Both of Baela's siblings, as well as Mother, wore the same shades of cloth; navy complimented by Velaryon aquamarine and decorated with silver jewellery. The King, meanwhile, was in his usual black, some way away from the group, sitting on a chair, and his face looking even more sickly. Ser Willis Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne were beside him, each of their hands resting on the chair in case the old man fell. Baela thought she saw puke stains on his doublet and chin but looked away because she had seen enough of his withered face for the nonce.
Above, in the skies, Moondancer let out a squeal, which Baela knew was a happy one, and flew awfully close to the ship as Tessarion trailed behind her. Baela ran along the port side of the ship, looking at the last tracts of land of Driftmark disappearing into the ocean.
If only we could stop there…
She reached the ship's prow and peered across, trying to see if she could see the first glimpses of the rocky island, but it was still an hour or two away. Somewhat disappointed, she returned to where her mother and brothers were, no doubt expecting Mother to have some words of preparation before Dragonstone.
"No petty squabbles of any sort," Mother said sternly to Baela and her brothers whilst the King was out of earshot. "Are we of understanding on that?"
"We hardly do that, anyways," shrugged Baela. "Well, Aemon loves to squabble," she grinned.
"I do not!" he said, crossing his arms angrily whilst Daeron chuckled.
"Seven hells," said Mother, rolling her eyes, which made the three of them stop chuckling and bow their heads. "If you are unhappy or angry about anything, do not take out your anger on each other, or me, or Ser Criston. Take it out on one of your half-sister's kids by all means, Aemon, but I do not wish to hear a single word of defiance for the whole week."
"Very well," Aemon replied.
"Good," she nodded before turning to Daeron and Baela. "And for the both of you, I know it may have crossed your mind, but I would not expect any friendliness from your half-sister's children, nor should you give them any. Basic courtesy is acceptable, but they are not your family, so do not act as if they are."
It is no different to her usual warnings about Rhaenyra and her family, but it is not as if I will disobey Mother. If Rhaenyra means to challenge Daeron for his throne, she is no family of mine.
"Yes, Mother," dutifully said Daeron, licking his teeth, whilst Baela nodded.
"That is all. We shall convene again when Dragonstone is within sight," Mother said as they departed.
"I do wonder if our half-sister is telling her children the same," Baela said to Daeron as they walked away, Ser Criston and Ser Steffon following them.
"Mayhaps," he simply replied. "The younger ones have no memories with us, and despise Aemon. It is likely only Baelon that would treat us as family."
"Ah, I do wonder how he is faring now," said Baela. "To think I was almost to be betrothed to him years ago. And that wasn't even the worst idea Father had!"
Keeping our half-sister as heir is one of them.
"From what I remember of it, Mother absolutely loathed the notion," Daeron chuckled. "Do you wonder if he remembers those days, when we used to run around in the yard? The three of us, and Jocelyn."
"I think he would. I do sometimes, but he likely has his own friends and memories at Dragonstone now," Baela replied. "And our half-sister and her husband have likely told him that it was so long ago and that we would not remember it and that he should forget about it."
"So, like Mother me?" he asked as they both broke out into laughter.
Baela wondered about her nephew. Would he be pleased to see them again, or would he hardly remember those fun times in the yard, like the Pink Dread, or the bags of flour they dropped on Lord Bar Emmon's son?
If he remembered those, he would certainly remember the last time we saw him, and how me and Daeron completely ignored him.
She shrugged, realising she was thinking too much into it. It was years ago, and Baelon likely had Westerlander and Crownlander friends of his own, just as Baela and Daeron both did. It was simply a short-lived friendship almost a decade ago, nothing more than that. Baela would offer her expected courtesies and mayhaps engage in some pleasant chatter with Rhaenyra's children, but would remain by her family for the duration of the stay, as her mother instructed her.
"I guess you could say that," agreed Baela.
"Very well, Mother was stern in her orders," sighed Daeron. "We have no choice but to agree," he shrugged, leaning on the prow and looking at the Blackwater stretching out.
"We still have some hours to go. I should say my farewells to all the crewmates in the while," she said, turning and leaving Daeron there with Ser Steffon, as Ser Criston followed her.
"You may jape about what your Mother tells you, but your half-sister's children are not ones to mingle with," Ser Criston said firmly once Daeron was far enough away.
"I know that," she replied.
"Children no doubt take after their parents, and your half-nephews and niece are no different," he continued. "And what worse examples of parents do they have?"
"Certainly," he agreed, smiling kindly, as he walked Baela back to her quarters before taking her leave.
He can be quite a bit of a buzzkill at times.
Baela did definitely love Ser Criston, and saw him as a sort of father she never got to have, but the man did not have any concept of fun or enjoyment. The only pleasure he seemed to relish in was watching the kids train in the yard.
And I know he disapproves of all my friendships!
He did not outright say it, but Baela noticed his grimaces and slight scowls whenever she mentioned that she was out in the city with Black Aly or Peake or Oscar. If Baela could guess, the white knight likely resented Aly for being an Old Gods worshipper, but the other two were for reasons she was unsure of.
I would wager he says they are bad influences.
It didn't matter all too much, though. Ser Criston was two-and-fifty, and old minds could not be swayed by anything. Baela still enjoyed his training in the yard and the tales he spoke of back in the Stormlands.
If Mother has an issue with who I choose to be around, she would have voiced them by now.
Baela rummaged through the chest in her cabin and found the small pouches of coins she had packed for the journey. She would give them to the many crewmates, and even more to the ones she liked the most.
So, for the final hour of her time on the Blue Dragon, she ran across the deck, below it, from prow to stern, and everywhere in between, chucking a stag or two at the crewmates. Once she thought she had given them to every crewmate there (no doubt she missed a few or gave it to someone multiple times!), she searched for the most memorable mates.
First, it was Fat Allan, the cook, who gave Baela a honeycake to hide in her pouch as thanks, then she found the large-shouldered boatswain, a Pentoshi called Reggo, and the foul-mouthed rigger called Norbert, who cursed seven more times upon receiving the coins. She also made sure to give a coin to Pate, who turned as red as he usually did, but also the ship's maester, captain, quartermaster, and the mates she drank and japed and ate with during the evenings.
Once that was all done, Dragonstone was finally in sight. She made her way back to the deck where her family was, finding everyone already there. Upon going to stand by her mother and brothers, a strikingly bad smell filled her nose. Then, she turned her head and noticed the puke splattered by the King's feet, and him looking even paler than usual.
Of course.
"Come, Aemon, do you want to go to the front, and watch Dragonstone get closer and closer?" Baela asked, hoping for an excuse to get away from the stench.
"I don't want to see it get closer and closer. I want to see it go further and further away," he petulantly replied.
"Go on, you might catch a sight of some dragons," said Mother, ushering him forward, and the ten-year-old obliged.
Once the smell was far enough away, Baela breathed a long, long sigh of relief and took Aemon by the hand. They went up to the prow, and Ser Criston carried Aemon so he could see over the edge.
"He smells," pouted Aemon as Ser Criston lifted him onto his shoulders.
"Why do you think I offered to take you up here?" asked Baela. "Poor Mother and Daeron have to deal with it for a while longer than we do," she grinned.
They could see Dragonstone now, edging closer by the second. She could make out the wild architecture, with every stone of the castle shaped into a dragon, breathing down on oncomers. A whole host of boats were also docked by the island, the majority of them being war galleys bearing a black sigil that Baela couldn't make out, but still knew exactly what they were. Smoke rose up from the sea surrounding the island, and in the background, the Dragonmont towered over the castle proper, with even darker smoke coming out of it.
The shrill screams of dragons echoed off the water as Tessarion and Moondancer above responded to it, prompting even more screeches. For some reason, Baela shivered, even if it wasn't a particularly cold morning. Two dragons flew closer to the ship. One of them was higher up in the sky, whilst another passed close to the sea, letting out a plume of silver flame over the waves.
"They're so close…" muttered Aemon, his eyes fixated on the lower dragon whilst Baela peered at the one high up in the sky.
The sun blocked her eyes, but Baela could make out purple and red on its body before it flew back around the island and out of sight. The other dragon by the sea was clear to Baela and flew towards the ship but turned back before it got anywhere near, its silver scales glimmering in the morning light.
As they got even closer, the sigils of the ship became clearer, showing the red dragon on a black field, but Baela knew that anyways. Some of them also bore the arms of Celtigar and Lannister, with an odd Farman or Westerling or Crakehall boat here and there. There were also some Essosi-style galleys, with brightly painted hulls and banners that Baela did not recognise.
With the smokiness of the island becoming thicker and the early welcome provided by the dragons and warships, Baela felt as if she was sailing into a battle. However, it wasn't anything like the battles of the stories. Her mouth tasted of copper, and her hands started trembling.
Gods, nothing has even happened yet, nor will anything actually happen!
She shook her head and sighed before returning to the main deck along with Aemon and Ser Criston since they were close enough to begin preparing for the docking.
"It does seem like a warm welcome, doesn't it?" asked Mother when Baela returned, which was only met by a scoff from Ser Criston. "We bought our dragons, too, however," she coldly added.
"And none of their ships are of the size as this," Ser Criston smiled.
One ship against how many? Two young dragons against how many more?
Eventually, they did dock at the island, the Blue Dragon surrounded by the ships commissioned by Baela's half-sister. On the harbour stood Rhaenyra, along with her family, the two other Kingsguards, and a host of servants and men-at-arms.
They all descended onto the stony shores of Dragonstone, two Kingsguards leading the way, then the King and Mother, and then Baela and her siblings, followed by the remaining three Kingsguards, and finally a host of men-at-arms and guards.
"Father," smiled Rhaenyra, who looked splendid in a red and burgundy dress stitched with cloth-of-gold flames. "Queen Laena," she nodded more coldly, the emerald jewels on her necklace glistening.
On one side of Rhaenyra were her two eldest children, Joffrey clutching onto her skirts and in a matching burgundy doublet. His hair was brown and curly, and his features resembled the Clubfoot back in King's Landing.
I hardly recalled his face from all those years ago, but his parentage is even more blatant than I remember.
After Joffrey was Baelon, clad in gold and red, which matched the locks tumbling behind his shoulders. He was tall for ten-and-three, but slouched somewhat. That, as well as his green eyes, which looked tired, made him look as if he had just been awoken from slumber. His mouth was pursed into something resembling a mix of a frown and a smile.
Baela noted that Joffrey and Baelon were not standing between her half-sister and uncle, but only on Rhaenyra's side. It did somewhat make sense since they were only Rhaenyra's children, but surely they could have been still in between her and her husband, with the other two children next to them. Though, in truth, it hardly mattered at all to Baela, so she shrugged it away.
On the other side of Rhaenyra was Viserys, who she had her hand around. He wore a burgundy doublet embroidered with a three-headed dragon, whilst his twin sister wore the same, but as a dress. After Visenya was Prince Daemon, who wore an all-black doublet made of leather and had a red and gold cloak draped over his shoulders.
Behind them, a few maids carried a cot, which Baela thought to be the newest addition to her half-sister's family. The two other Kingsguards, Ser Arryk Cargyll and Ser Lorent Marbrand, flanked the party, their white cloaks and armour just as white as the five that came from King's Landing. Ser Erryk nodded at his twin brother, who smiled in response.
"Rhaenyra, my daughter," the King said happily, walking forwards to approach her. "It has been too long."
Good to know he remembers one of his daughters.
"Likewise, Father. I do welcome you all to Dragonstone," she responded, addressing everyone, but the warmness was gone in that part of her sentence.
The King hobbled over to his daughter and hugged her before doing the same with each of his grandchildren, and then his younger brother. Finally, he looked at little Aegon in the cradle and kissed him on the forehead, to which the babe responded by wailing. All the while, Baela and her family watched awkwardly, trying not to make any eye contact with any of Rhaenyra's family.
When that was finally done, everyone greeted everyone, and it was as cold as Baela expected, with some minor exceptions. Rhaenyra warmly embraced Baela and called her "sweet sister", which was mildly endearing, whilst Baelon offered a slight grin when greeting everyone. Meanwhile, Viserys and Joffrey shied away from Aemon's greeting while Visenya gave him a strange stare.
"My, Daeron, Baela, and Aemon, how my half-siblings have grown since I last saw you," Rhaenyra said, maintaining a smile that Baela knew was an obvious facade. "Last time, you all welcomed me so warmly in the Red Keep. It is only in due course that I do the same here."
"Thank you, dear sister," Daeron replied, as politely as he usually was. "It has been even longer since I stepped foot on this island," he said, looking up at the arched gate, which bore two dragon gargoyles perched on there.
"It still smells bad," Baelon remarked. Baela couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, as did Mother and Daeron.
"We can help show you all to your quarters," little Viserys perked up with a smile as Rhaenyra rubbed the boy's hair.
"My mother and siblings know the way," countered Aemon with a scowl.
"Aye, we are more than familiar with the island, even if it has been a while," Mother agreed. "And it is still early, and we are not in need of rest," she added, as Baela smirked, knowing what she meant by that.
Are you not going to be good hosts and treat us to a feast on our arrival?
"Of course, Your Grace," Rhaenyra smiled. "There is a feast prepared for this evening, which we all are dearly looking forward to."
"It certainly is earlier than we anticipated, too," said Daemon, finally speaking. "I must commend the crewmen of the ship you took, on such a swift journey," he nodded at the Blue Dragon before gesturing to all the other boats docked there. "One of our ships must be able to sail as fast as that carrack. Nevertheless, it is an impressive piece of shipbuilding."
"Aye, from the yards at Driftmark. The best in the realm," curtly replied Mother.
"Very well then!" the King quickly said, slapping his stump of a hand to dissipate the tension. "I think we shall make our way inside of the castle now; the breeze is getting a bit strong."
"That is a good suggestion, Father," Rhaenyra said, beckoning her two Kingsguard to aid him.
The walk up to the castle was done in a very uneasy silence, with each of Baela's family walking alongside Rhaenyra's. The King led the way whilst Mother and Rhaenyra walked side by side. Daeron walked alongside Baelon, and Baela with Joffrey. Aemon, meanwhile, walked with the twins. Tessarion and Moondancer had made themselves comfortable around the smoky island, soaring above and out of sight, hopefully, to hunt some sheep and, hopefully, not to get into a territorial spat with another dragon.
"I am certain the children are eager to play in the yard, so I shall let you all do that," the King smiled as they finally reached the warmth of the castle's gatehouse. "Aemon, lad, go and play with your nephews and niece."
"Yes, I would love to," Aemon smirked deviously as Ser Willis and Ser Lorent led him away with Joffrey, Visenya, and Viserys.
"Very good," the King lazily said. "Even though there is a feast prepared for the evening, there is no harm in another one now. Come, we have a lot to discuss!" he jovially announced. "Baelon, Daeron, Baela, why don't you take a walk around the castle? Mayhaps Baelon can show you to your quarters…"
"It is no matter," Mother cut in. "Daeron and Baela are grown; they can join us for the feast."
"No, I am sure you will be quite bored of all the small talk. Baelon, show them around, and if you do a good job, you can show me around later!"
"Daeron sits on the Small Council; I am sure afternoon lunch shall not bore him," smiled Mother.
"If he so wishes, Daeron can remain then," Rhaenyra shrugged as Baela noticed Mother grimace.
"What do you wish to do, lad?" asked the King.
Daeron hesitated for a moment, looking at his father and then Mother. He also seemed to notice Mother's grimace, and just crossed his arms and smiled.
"It is no matter," Daeron said. "I shall give my sister and Baelon company. I haven't walked through the halls of the castle in a while."
"Very well," Mother replied, seeming almost relieved.
They parted ways once entering the hall, with Mother and the rest sitting at the great stone table (which was, of course, carved into the likeness of a dragon) and Baela, Daeron, and Baelon going off to a side corridor that led to the inner bailey and the Stone Drum, along with Ser Rickard following them.
"So, it certainly has been a while," Baelon said as he led them ahead.
Baela and Daeron looked at each other first before cautiously replying. Remember what Mother said.
"Aye, it was four years ago, if I recall," Daeron replied.
"Yes, four years," Baelon nodded as they passed a giant tapestry depicting Old Valyria. "It was not the most pleasant of occasions back then, with Grandfather being taken unwell."
"No, it wasn't," replied Baela, knowing that both Daeron and Baelon found the situation much more unpleasant than she did.
"It is good to see him in better spirits, now, though," Daeron said, smiling somewhat.
"Aye," agreed Baela.
"It did end on a sour note…" said Baelon, almost to himself, as Daeron cautiously looked at Baela again. His eyes seemed apologetic, whilst Baela frowned at him, shaking her head.
He remembers that we ignored him all those years ago.
It was difficult to forget, especially if Baelon was the person being ignored. Baela and Daeron both regretted doing it, but would certainly not broach that particular subject again.
At least this time, Mother allowed us to converse with him.
They exited the long corridor and into the inner bailey. Some servants and lesser nobles were scattered around, mingling and chattering, but they all paused to bow their heads for the three royals. The clouds had parted too, and the sun shone down at them, making Baelon's long curly hair seem like molten gold.
Two guards opened the door into the Stone Drum, and Baelon led them in again, still walking one or two paces ahead of Baela and Daeron. The inside of the tower was dimly lit, and footsteps echoed over the thick stone walls.
"I do spend some days reminiscing over all those years ago, before me and my mother and Joff had to relocate here," Baelon said, as Baela and Daeron glanced at each other again. "I miss King's Landing."
"You miss King's Landing? Truly?" Baela asked, unable to help herself. "I would rather be anywhere else at times."
"Even Dragonstone?" he countered. "It may seem a novelty here, but gods, this island is grim."
"Maybe not Dragonstone," she replied. "But Driftmark is certainly more preferable to the capital."
"That or Oldtown," Daeron added.
"You've never been," Baela said.
"From what I have heard. Jocelyn tells me it's the best city in Westeros," he smiled.
"Lannisport is," said Baelon, turning around and grinning. "How is Jocelyn, too? Shame she could not come, too."
The King wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't even let Grandfather or Grandmother come.
"She is well, but she would hate the island, in truth," Daeron replied as they reached the staircase.
"Daeron still wishes she was there, though," smirked Baela, patting Daeron on the shoulder. "He can't go anywhere without missing her," she laughed as Daeron scoffed, shaking his head.
"That is not true," he chuckled, pointing his finger at Baela.
"It is partly true," said Baela, and Daeron simply laughed, all while Baelon watched the two bicker with a strange smile on his face.
"Regardless, any city would be better than here," Baelon grumbled. "We can't even get Arbor Gold or Red here."
"No Arbor Gold?" laughed Baela. "Now, that is truly a travesty!"
"I know!" he agreed enthusiastically. "According to my mother, Redwyne trading cogs stopped docking here years ago, and the barrels finished two moons ago."
"That said, aren't you too young to be drinking wine?" Daeron asked. "My mother only gave me diluted cups until I was ten-and-four."
I didn't know about that. Did Daeron not think to ask some of the Gold Cloaks or pageboys for a skin of wine?
"I am absolutely not too young," he tutted as they rounded a corner, their voices still echoing off the walls.
"I agree with Baelon," said Baela. "Though in King's Landing, we do not receive any more of the Lannisport honeyed wine, so I would say we are on equal footing."
"Aye, Lannisport vintages are truly special," Baelon replied proudly, as if he was the one who made the wine.
They passed a mural of some legendary warrior slaying a giant boar with his bare hands as a battle raged around him. Baelon stopped to look at it, beginning to chuckle. Baela and Daeron looked at each other once again, both raising an eyebrow.
He is certainly cordial and very welcoming, but Mother did advise us to be cautious.
"Do you both remember the Pink Dread?" Baelon asked, looking at the boar.
"How could we forget?" Daeron laughed. "I certainly do remember how delicious the pig was after that, too!"
"The tastiest of beasts to ride into battle!" he scoffed.
They walked a while longer until Baelon finally led them to their quarters. Baela's room was adjacent to Daeron's, whilst the room opposite was reserved for Aemon. Mother's quarters and the King's were in Sea Dragon Tower, near Rhaenyra and Daemon's. Most of the way there was marked by friendly chatter, talking of past times. Baela remembered to heed her Mother's words and be cautious, and whilst Daeron did too, it was not as much.
Baelon bears us no ill will, however. It is somewhat strange.
"These quarters are much more spacious than mine, truly," Baelon said, as if he expected Baela and Daeron to be disappointed.
"No, they are great. Thank you, nephew, for leading us here, and for your warm welcome to the island," replied Daeron, with the same reassuring smile he would always give Baela or Aemon.
"So," Baelon said, smacking his hands together. "I shall leave you then, to settle into your rooms, until the feast in the evening."
"Very well," replied Daeron, whilst Baela smiled at him.
Just as Baelon was about to turn and leave to go to wherever he spent his time (Baela wagered it to be wherever the wine in the castle was kept), he whirled around again, his long golden hair flapping as he did.
"Actually…" he carefully began. "Would you both be interested in joining me in my quarters after the feast… to play some dice, or just chatter… if you both are willing, of course."
Baela hesitated before speaking, looking at her older brother first, but he seemed just as lost for words too.
Mother would tear her hair out if we did.
"You play dice, too?" was all Baela could splutter out.
"Aye," he replied. "Usually, I play with some of the Westerlander lads, but half of them have gone back to the West to visit their families," Baelon said before turning to Daeron. "Do you actually play? Or do you not…"
"I do play," Daeron answered. "Not often, but I know the rules."
"Truly?" asked Baela, surprised her brother enjoyed playing dice.
"Yes, Lord Bar Emmon's son taught me, but we hardly play as much as either of you two likely do," he replied.
"Wait… Bar Emmon's son?" Baelon asked, scratching his head. "White Willem Bar Emmon? The same one?"
"Aye, the very same one," chuckled Daeron. "I do remember that day."
"Me too," smiled Baelon. "So… of what I asked, are you willing… or, nevermind… if you do not wish to, or not allowed to…"
Baela looked at her big brother again, hoping he wouldn't answer for the both of them. She knew that Daeron missed his friendship with Baelon and wouldn't hesitate to say yes, much to their mother's ire.
It is just playing dice! What's the worst that would happen? It is not as if after we roll a certain number, we would prostrate at Rhaenyra's feet.
She put her hands on her hips and looked at Daeron again, but he was scratching his head, either looking for a way to politely decline, or agree for both of them, even if he thought Baela would not enjoy the latter answer. He certainly seemed to be leaning that way, too.
He had been quite friendly and welcoming to us…
Baela took a gulp and turned to face Baelon. His cheeks had become as rosy as Pate from the Blue Dragon, and his hands were trembling slightly.
"Aye, we'll both come," answered Baela, smiling.
"Truly?" Baelon gasped, likely expecting a different answer.
"Aye," Daeron said, letting out a sigh of relief. "We'll come and play dice with you after the feast."