"Your Grace, there is the matter of discussing the gold to be attributed to the tourney to take place in two days' time." Grand Maester Alford mentioned, while looking on the parchment listing the discussed topics for the Small Council meeting.
"There is no need to continue on the matter. His Grace has already expressed the importance of the day to be celebrated and as such, we can afford to give the people nothing short of a grand tourney. The coffers are great.", the Master of Coin, Isembard Arryn, replied, all the while making notes.
"And what of the guests?" Corwyn asked, and Isembard confirmed the House representatives who were to attend the tourney.
Viserys could hardly focus on the discussion. His fingers drummed on the table, his eyes fixed on Isembard's moving mouth but he wasn't hearing anything that was coming out of it.
He could do naught but think of her. Of the way her fingers moved over that green boy's chest. She certainly wasn't doing so because of any attraction she felt towards him.
She was playing games. But what was he to expect? She wouldn't be the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen if she didn't.
Still…she was punishing him. Using her supposed betrothal to distract him…fill his head with the most absurd thoughts, when he was supposed to be focusing on managing the Seven Kingdoms in his brother's name.
And this day of all days proved to be of utmost importance. Four and ten years had passed since the end of the war, and as per King Aegon's wish, the Realm was invited to celebrate with a tourney. It was to be a grand affair. A joyous celebration in the name of peace.
The intention was to bring people together. However, as should have been expected, for every decision the Crown made, there would always be gossip spreading.
On this day, the gossip had reached Viserys' ear. It appeared that certain folk were questioning the day chosen for the tourney to take place. Everyone knew that on this particular day, precisely four and ten years prior, the Battle of the Kingsroad took place.
The Muddy Mess, as it was oft called. This battle had been the final one in the war, between the Lads Kermit Tully, Oscar Tully and Benjicot Blackwood, against the forces of Lord Borros Baratheon. In the name of Prince Aegon the Younger and his mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Lads defeated the remaining Green forces, and advanced to King's Landing in order to dethrone the usurper.
The Blacks had been victorious, and of course, the celebration of the Muddy Mess marking the end of the war, was not well seen by some of the members of the Houses who had once supported the Greens. To them, it was as if the Crown was once again favouring the party of the Dragon Queen.
"And who started the discussion?" Viserys had asked the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Raynard Ruskyn.
"My knights informed me that it had been Lady Samantha of House Hightower, my prince."
"Of course." Viserys scoffed, shaking his head.
"Should I make certain to give her a warning?" the ever-faithful Ser Raynard asked him.
"No. If you attempt to silence her, you would only be giving truth to those rumours. We shall not breathe life into those hateful words. Let them all whisper. In any case, it changes nothing. The tourney shall take place on that day. The decision is final."
Now, the matter was well past Viserys, whose thoughts were consumed by none other than a certain beautiful Targaryen princess.
The voices in the chambers continued, and everyone, especially King Aegon, was expecting the Hand to contribute and express an opinion on the costs of the tourney.
"So, are we in agreement on the gold to be distributed?" Isembard asked, looking around the table, expectantly.
Everyone nodded, and Aegon turned to Viserys, his eyebrows furrowing.
Viserys was staring at the table in front of him, his mind clearly not on the preparations for the tourney. His brother was visibly concerned, as were the rest of the Council members.
Prince Viserys had always taken his role as the Hand of the King most seriously ever since he was appointed two years prior. And for every Council meeting that had taken place since then, he had been at the top of his game. But alas, not on this day.
"My Lord Hand?" Grand Maester Alford eventually asked, and managed to draw his attention away from his troubling thoughts.
Realizing that everyone was watching him carefully, especially Aegon, Viserys decided to settle on a single word, in his mind praying that it would be the answer they were all expecting.
"Yes." Viserys nodded, granting his approval…on something.
"Very well. We are all in agreement." Isembard mumbled, scribbling down on parchment.
Viserys took the time to clear his throat, fidgeting in his seat, all the while Aegon watching him carefully.
…
Corwyn let out a sigh of exhaustion, as he made his way to his chambers. This Council meeting proved to be most tiring. They had to make haste with the preparations, if they ever hoped for the tourney to take place in two days' time.
Pushing open the doors, the Master of Laws dropped the books he had been holding on the ground, his mouth parting slightly at a rare sight before him.
"Rhaena?" he questioned softly, as he watched his Targaryen wife lay absolutely naked on their bed, and drinking some of his good Arbor Red.
How did she ever get in those wine cellars? They were well guarded…or so he thought.
Corwyn immediately closed the doors behind him, else someone saw the distressed state of his wife.
"My womb has been cursed, Corwyn." Rhaena whispered, taking another sip from the cup.
"My dear, what is this?" Corwyn asked, as he left the books on the ground, and moved close so as he could sit on the bed next to her.
Rhaena Targaryen had always been the more proper and gracious one of the Dragon Twins. Always impeccably dressed, pleasant, always regarding others with respect and most importantly, always making certain that she was there to brighten even the darkest of his days.
Corwyn reached forward to take the cup from her hands, and managed to do so with quite a lot of difficulty.
With a pout, Rhaena pulled back, pushing at his shoulder with her foot.
"Rhaena…my dear, you're frightening me." Corwyn gave her his most serious expression and grabbed the wine cup, setting it as far away from her, before asking again, "What is this?"
Her jaw instantly clenched. Corwyn noticed the purple colour of her eyes turn darker.
"I told you! They cursed my womb! They must have!" she snapped at him, in a very ungracious manner.
This truly wasn't like her.
Understanding that the wine was what was loosening her tongue in such a way, Corwyn decided it would be best that he try to calm her.
Deciding to play along, he covered her hand with his and asked her softly, "Rhaena, tell me. Who did it? Who cursed your womb?"
"Those vile women out there! Why are they still at Court? They shouldn't be here, Corwyn! They shouldn't!" Rhaena yelled out, pointing towards the doors, all the while tears were streaming down her very pale cheeks.
Taking off his cloak, Corwyn wrapped it around his wife and rubbed her back, attempting to comfort her.
He understood who she was talking about. The ladies of Houses Hightower, Lannister and Redwyne had been constantly making comments on the lack of children in their lives.
Corwyn's own two daughters from his previous marriage were already grown and wed, establishing their own households. While he was not the Lord of House Corbray, Corwyn was still expected to produce more heirs for his family.
More than ten years having passed since they wed, and him warming his dear wife's bed almost every night did not seem to have given the Gods reason to bless them with children.
The passion had not died out, despite the years of hardship the two of them have had to endure. When Corwyn's nephew took the seat of House Corbray in the Vale, he had naught to his name, and it was only by King Aegon's generosity that he and Rhaena were allowed to reside in Dragonstone and lead the household there.
Although greatly appreciative for this kind gesture, Corwyn knew that it wouldn't have been given had he not been married to the King's sister. Everything he had, with the exception of his House's ancestral longsword, he had because of Rhaena Targaryen. And now, he could not even provide her with the children he knew she so desperately wanted.
"We have tried, have we not? We always try. We shall have children when the Gods deem it fit. There is still ample time."
Shaking her head, Rhaena tried to push his cloak away, but Corwyn insisted that she remain covered.
"No, there is not! You are already five and forty!" Rhaena complained, and pressed her forehead to her knees, not having realized the hurtful words which had passed her lips.
Corwyn watched her silently, a moment of sadness washing over him. He knew that were she sober, she would have never had the courage to speak the truth to him.
They had reached a point in their lives when the difference of status, as well as that of age, seemed to matter to her, though she would never admit it.
The Arbor Red did have some of its good uses, it would seem.
Watching her rub her forehead on her knees, Corwyn took a deep breath and told her, "My dear…I apologize if I have been a disappointment to you. You certainly deserved a better husband. Richer, younger…who could give you what you most desire."
When she didn't respond, he added, "I have failed you. Your womb is not cursed, my dear. I am the one who has failed you. I am certain of it."
Corwyn's declaration managed to capture her attention.
Looking up at long last, her eyes wide and the colour returning to her normal shade of purple, Rhaena mumbled, "No…no…I'm…no."
"You must rest now." Corwyn whispered, pushing her gently by the shoulders so as she would lay back on the bed.
Finally seeming to have regained her wits, Rhaena whispered, "Corwyn…no. It cannot be you. You have children. Two of them. I have none. It is my own fault. It is my womb. And those wretched women cursed it. I know they did."
Caressing her cheek with one hand, Corwyn used the other to cover her even more with his cloak.
"You are much younger than I am. You come from a family of fruitful women. You are a Targaryen, my dear. Were I worthier…"
"I chose you, Corwyn. I followed my heart. You are more than worthy. Never believe yourself inferior in this family. Everyone adores you. You are a good man, a handsome one, fearless and true."
Corwyn said nothing, as he walked over to the table in the back of the room in order to pour her some water in a fresh new cup.
"And never forget how bravely you used your Lady Forlorn to defend the rights of Lord Joffrey Arryn in the Vale!" Rhaena called out after him with a smile, referring to the ancestral longsword.
When he returned and insisted that she drink the water, Rhaena obliged, a small smile still showing that the Arbor Red was still influencing her judgement.
"Make love to me." she whispered, as she finally set down the cup and reached for him.
Corwyn took her hand in his and kissed it gently.
"Not right now. You need rest. You have greatly exerted yourself."
Pouting, Rhaena leaned back down, and whispered, "Daenaera is so fortunate. Eight and ten years of age, and she has two sons."
"It had not been easy for her." Corwyn said, thinking back to the time of Prince Baelor's birth. It had been a most difficult labour, when the maesters believed the 'little queen' would be taken by the Stranger.
Thankfully, the Gods had protected her.
"Mayhaps Morning is the only child I will ever know." Rhaena insisted.
"It shall not be so. I swear this to you." Corwyn replied, pressing his lips to her hand once more, as he watched her close her eyes and drift away in sleep.
How could he make such a promise to her, when he himself had no power to grant her this wish?
…
Visenya had the most pleasant morrow, strolling around the Keep, holding the arm of Lord Lyonel Tyrell, under the watchful eyes of her ladies.
Not only did her actions manage to get a rise out of Viserys, but the hateful women who had remained at Court were no longer able to make assumptions or criticize her person, for now she was a young woman betrothed to a lord of very good standing.
The Tyrells were now the wealthiest in the Reach. Their lack of participation in the war had helped them surpass the Hightowers both in terms of gold and soldiers. The Bank of Oldtown did not seem to help the Hightowers' cause at all.
Princess Visenya and Lord Lyonel had made their betrothal official, and as such, the anger of the Lord of the Hightower and his lady wife became more apparent at Court. They understood what it would mean for them should this marriage take place. Princess Visenya would become the Lady of Highgarden and as such, have tremendous amount of influence in the Reach and would most certainly keep her enemies grounded.
There would be naught that the Hightowers or the Peakes would be able to accomplish with the young princess' ongoing feud with their families.
Visenya was most pleased with the result of this betrothal, and although she would see to it that it shall never come to pass, she was enjoying these small moments of triumph against her enemies.
She was however worrying for one of her ladies, Prudence. She had been most quiet ever since the day in the Godswood, when she first became acquainted with young Lord Lyonel. Visenya oft expected Little Jeyne and Elinor to be the ones with the least to say, but never the bold Prudence.
Visenya was still thinking about whatever could be troubling the girl, when she entered her chambers and saw Elinor laying on her bed, her hands spread out, looking as though she was greatly enjoying the comforter. Elinda and the other maids were nowhere in sight.
Once Visenya closed the doors behind her, Elinor immediately jumped from the bed, red in the cheeks, as she tried to rearrange her skirts.
"Princess…do forgive me." Elinor mumbled, looking to the ground in shame.
Scoffing, Visenya stepped forward and took her hands in hers.
"Elinor, how many times have I told you to call me Visenya?"
"One too many times, I'm afraid." Elinor responded and finally met the Princess' kind eyes.
"You are my lady-in-waiting, and as Prudence, Sarra and Little Jeyne, you are now a dear friend of mine. You know that you are welcome to anything. Do you like these sheets? I could arrange to have the same material sent to your own rooms."
"No. No. You are most kind, but there is no need."
Visenya noticed for the first time that she had been crying.
"Elinor, what has happened? Tell me." the Princess insisted, pulling her towards the bed and forcing her to sit.
Elinor was eight name days ahead of her, and despite that, Visenya felt like she was the one who had to mother her at times.
"I am ashamed of what has become of me…Visenya." Elinor began.
"You mean because of your reputation?"
"Yes."
"I asked your Aunt Elinda to bring you to Court, so as I may take you as my lady-in-waiting with the purpose of finding you a husband. I admit that given a lot of what has come to pass in my life, I have not given this matter much of a thought, but I promise to do so now. And I do apologize for being careless."
Gasping, Elinor contradicted her, "You have naught to apologize for!"
"You are my friend, and I must take care of you." Visenya insisted, and then pursed her lips, unsure of whether she should insist on the subject.
Deciding it to be for the best, Visenya asked, "Do you remember anything about that day? Do you remember anything about this man, who…did this to you?"
Finding her courage, Elinor repeated the words she had used the first time she had been asked, "I did not see his face. He took me from behind and kept me so."
"I know. But was there something else? Something about his voice? His smell? Something about his clothing? Surely, you must have seen or sensed something." Visenya pressed.
Yes, she was intent on finding Elinor a husband, but she was also determined to catch the man responsible for having taken her lady's maidenhead by force and destroying her life.
"He did speak. It was only for a moment." Elinor revealed.
"Did you recognize the voice?"
"No. It was not quite clear. I…I really do not know. Forgive me."
Shaking her head, Visenya told her, "Stop. Stop apologizing to me. You have naught to be ashamed of. What happened to you was terrible, and I intend to avenge you."
Taking a woman by force, destroying her in such ways…it had been the work of the usurper. Elinda had told Visenya of the many maids old to young who had to suffer the inappropriate touching of the Hightower boy whilst he was around Court. And then there were others who he had forced himself upon…even a girl of two and ten, the age of Sarra, who was forced on her knees to…
Visenya pulled herself out of these thoughts, so as she could focus on the matter at hand.
Taking a deep breath, Elinor admitted, "He did say something. Something I remember even now."
"What?"
"That he…that…he wished he could have…"
"Could have?" Visenya pressed.
"He wished he could have fucked me on his silken pavilion." Elinor said rather quickly and then immediately covered her mouth with her hand, in shame of having used a crass tongue.
Visenya made a face of disgust.
"Is that truly what he said?"
"Yes. I remember it now more vividly. And then he just…he continued…"
More tears started streaming down her cheeks, which only encouraged Visenya to pull her in for a hug.
"I still believe we ought to tell my brothers…"
"No, I beg of you." Elinor pleaded with her once more.
"If this about your reputation, I assure you that if the King wills it…"
"Princess…" Elinor began but once seeing the dissatisfied look on her face, she changed it to "Visenya, please."
"My brothers may be able to help."
"The King cannot help me. There is naught that can ever silence the whispers. Revealing this shall only make matters worse." the girl insisted.
"Very well. But I shall not stop until we have found this monster, and one way or another, he shall pay for it."
"I pray that you find him, but if you expose what he did to me…"
"You shall be wed and with child by then, Elinor." Visenya promised her.
"How can you be so certain?"
"Because now I have the time to look for potential husbands." Visenya told her with a mischievous smile. "And with the tourney taking place in two days' time, there shall never be a better opportunity to think about who could be your perfect match. There are many House representatives who will be present for the tourney, as well as the feats that follows. And you deserve naught less than a lord. Handsome and kind." Visenya explained.
"I am hardly a prize. My House is not a great one. We have not amassed any fortune. Even a dowry…"
"I shall take care of it."
"You are far too kind."
"And you are far too down. You a pretty thing, and you are still young. Promise me that when we find this horrid man and I have dealt with him, we are to see you smile more."
Fortunately, Visenya did not have to wait to capture this criminal, for a beautiful smile already crossed Elinor Massey's face.
…
"Again!" Baela exclaimed, rushing forward and meeting her blade with that of the young Sarra Stark.
It was now one day until the tourney, and whilst everyone was rushing about the Keep for the last preparations, Baela was taking the time to practice some more while also keeping far away from her husband.
She was still cross with Alyn, and rightfully so. She certainly did not believe that this would change anytime soon. There was too much imbalance in their relationship. This thought was the cause for many restless nights…ever since he had confessed that he had impregnated Aliandra Martell and that her heir was his own blood.
The fool, Baela scoffed, shaking her head. Whatever made him think that if he came forth with what he had done, he would be forgiven and they would move past this?
Now, Baela was wondering whatever made him confess his indiscretions? He could have easily lied, and mayhaps Aliandra would have hid this from her as well. The Princess of Dorne clearly did not have any interest to publicly reveal her affair with Alyn Velaryon or that her first child, her son, was his.
While Dorne did not have any problem with their royals mothering or fathering children outside marriages and naming them their heirs, the lords of Westeros would have a different opinion on the matter.
Dorne had not been officially conquered by Aegon the Dragon and his sister wives. However, the Crown, as well as the rest of the Realm, consider Dorne to be part of the fold, whether its people liked it or not. Should the lords of the Realm receive a confirmation of Princess Aliandra's indiscretions, they may very well attempt to seize Dorne after her death.
In a way, Baela also feared that her brother, Viserys, might use such information to his advantage as well. Viserys was shrewd and would certainly not miss an opportunity such as this one to lay claim to Dorne. They were all still weakened after the war, certainly, but they did not lack resources. And as for dragons…they still had Morning, as inexperienced as she was.
And speaking of dragons…Baela lowered her sword for a moment, her face paling, which confused the girl she was sparring with.
What would happen should this boy, Qoren Martell, ever decide that he would like a dragon of his own? What should happen should he get a hold of a dragon egg? What if he were to somehow find one of the dragons who have disappeared soon after the war? What would happen should Dorne have a dragon of its own?
And what of her daughter, Laena? She was her husband's sole heir to Driftmark. What would happen if one day Aliandra revealed the truth to her son, and he would deem that Driftmark belonged to him? And what if he were to come on dragonback? Her daughter had no dragon of her own. Not since that blind ferocious wyrm…
"Lady Baela…are you quite well?" Sarra Stark lowered her blade, coming forth, her long dark curls moving with her pace, as she reached out to touch the woman's hand.
"Yes. Forgive me. I was just thinking…" Baela whispered, appreciating the kindness in the girl's grey eyes.
While she looked a lot like her mother, her spirit and the look in her eyes were that of Lord Cregan.
Nodding, Sarra told her, "I oft do that as well. Tends to distract me from my lessons back in Winterfell. The septas are always furious with me."
Baela laughed softly, her eyes crinkling, as she remembered how much her own mother would have her hands full with her when she was young.
"You use that well." The Lady of Driftmark pointed to the sword that Sarra was holding.
"Thank you, my lady! I fully intend to get better at it."
"Who has trained you?"
"My mother."
Baela was really not surprised by her response. Alysanne Blackwood, or Black Aly as she was oft called, had actively participated in the war, alongside Sabitha Frey, to defend the rights of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. The skills of both of these women were not to be forgotten. And Black Aly would certainly pass her knowledge to her daughters, should they ever decide that this is the path they wished for.
In a way, Baela was saddened that she did not share much of the same interests with her daughter, Laena. Laena was most like her Aunt Rhaena in the sense that she was gentle, gracious, more reserved in public, she loved to dance, and adored the idea of dressing in the finest silks and wearing the most beautiful gems she could find.
Baela could never imagine her daughter wielding a sword. Hence why she has now found Sarra Stark to be a most welcome companion. A girl who was close to her daughter's age, but one who preferred adventure and excitement to dancing and embroidering.
"You should know, Lady Baela…I intend to enter the tourney." Sarra Stark revealed, as their sparring commenced once more.
The comment caught Baela completely by surprise, which only managed to give Sarra an advantage and disarm her.
Monkey let out a shriek which sounded a whole lot like laughter, from the sidelines.
After throwing that animal a look of annoyance, Baela told the young girl, "I'm afraid that will not be possible. While there is progress which has been made on allowing women more rights in this Realm, I do not believe that extends to tourneys as well. These are oft men's playthings."
"Then I shall disguise myself as a man." Sarra reasoned, and Baela could only laugh.
"Why are you doing this? You do not need to prove yourself in tourneys, Sarra. I have not attempted to, and trust me, if I wanted to, I would have had my way."
"Your husband would not have tried to stop you?"
"My husband does not rule me." Baela replied and then added more softly, "Especially not now."
"I wish to test my skills. 'Tis not about proving something."
"You are quite young." Baela attempted to reason with her, but she could see that the girl's mind worked fast. She was mature for her age, and the Lady of Driftmark wondered if this is how all the northern girls were, or if this was just the daughter of Lord Cregan Stark.
Baela's own daughter was still playing with dolls.
"I care not!" Sarra snapped.
"And were your parents ever to find out…"
"Please do not write to them. They would never allow it and Father would be most furious."
By the time a raven reached from here to Winterfell, it would be many days after the tourney was already finished, if not weeks. Baela knew that regardless what the girl decided to do, there was not much her parents could do from the North. They too were quite distracted with the preparations of the wedding of the Heir to Winterfell, Rickon Stark, to the girl called Lady Jeyne Manderly.
There was talk that the rushed wedding ceremony was due to the fact that the girl was already with child.
"I shall not do so. But I feel I must warn you. You are under the protection of the Crown, and your parents trust the King and the Princess Visenya to keep you well taken care of, and above all, alive."
"You do not need to worry, Lady Baela. Naught shall happen to me. I have a plan."
"Oh, do you now? Might I know what it is?" Baela asked with a smile, already more impressed with the young girl before her.
"Well, I…" Sarra began but something behind Baela caught her attention.
Frowning, Baela turned around, following the girl's gaze.
"What is it?"
"I thought I saw something."
"What?"
"There was a man…dressed in orange robes. I thought I saw the symbol of three black castles. He was looking around, as if he did not wish anyone to see him." Sarra explained, still looking around as though hoping to catch him once more.
…
Applause was heard throughout the arena, as lords and knights from all over the Realm prepared their armour and heraldry for the jousting to commence.
Princess Visenya, dressed impeccably in Targaryen black and red, with black diamonds adorning her ears and neck, was clapping excitedly, the ladies Elinor, Prudence and Little Jeyne joining her among the rest of the audience.
"Is that Lord Lyonel?" Prudence asked, watching as the young lord mounted his horse, picking up his jousting lance and holding it up, so as everyone could observe the black favour he had been granted.
"Yes. He is to joust for me on this day." Visenya replied, with a smirk.
"He intends to crown you queen of love and beauty, does he not?" Little Jeyne asked with a smile.
"But, of course. Who else but his betrothed whom he has come to hold dear love for?" Visenya exclaimed the last part, knowing that with Viserys sitting behind her, he would most likely hear.
Visenya did not dare turn her head in his direction. She was certain he heard, but was not about to give him any reason to suspect her true motives, by attempting to observe his reaction.
Soon enough, the announcement was made.
"Lord Lyonel Tyrell to face Ser Desmond Redwyne!"
"Oh, I hear that one is brutal." Prudence whispered and seemed frozen for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek in worry.
This act did not go unnoticed by Visenya, who was starting to suspect that her lady's behaviour as of late had to do with her own betrothed.
Was it possible…could it be…?
Clearing her throat, Visenya said, "The Redwynes are not known for their wits, Prudence. I have the utmost confidence in Lord Lyonel."
And so, the jousting began.
With some effort on his part, Lyonel Tyrell did manage to defeat Desmond Redwyne, and moved on to the next challenge that awaited him.
On his return on horseback, Visenya noticed him and Prudence locked in a gaze denoting some sort of interest.
Prudence immediately tried to save face and giggled when she saw who was about to joust next.
"Oh, if it isn't our own Master of Coin. I did not know that he was so experienced!" she exclaimed, pushing back her golden locks.
"He fought in the rebellion in the Vale, or did you forget?" Little Jeyne immediately replied, her neck stretching so as she may admire the blue cloak Isembard was wearing. But he did not present the regular heraldry of House Arryn. It was the golden falcon of House Arryn of Gulltown.
"I was but jesting, Little Jeyne. You seem so serious whenever I mention the Gilded Falcon. Why is that?" Prudence asked, but Little Jeyne did not respond, keeping her eyes on the object of interest.
Lord Isembard Arryn was holding his lance, prepared to joust with Ser Martyn Hightower, the younger brother of Lord Lyonel Hightower.
"Is there something I should know?" Visenya asked, looking between Prudence and Little Jeyne, referring to the earlier discussion.
Elinor had not yet said a word. The tourney was evidently not to her liking. Violence did not phase her in any way. As such, she had turned her head in Little Jeyne's direction, analysing her with great interest.
"No, there is not." Little Jeyne whispered, her eyes still on Isembard.
"I merely suggested that the Master of Coin may have caught Little Jeyne's attention. That is all." Prudence said, with a small tinge of annoyance in her tone.
"Your cousin?" Visenya asked, turning back to her lady of House Arryn.
"Distant cousin, and no. He has not. Do not believe the words from her mouth, Princess. Especially since Prudence's own eyes are on someone she should never be consorting with."
Realizing that this was slowly escalating into what appeared to be a fight, Visenya closed the matter and the four girls watched as Martyn Hightower managed to destabilize Isembard on his own horse.
But the Gilded Falcon refused to accept defeat, and slowly managed to get back in the right position, his hand not letting go of the lance which held no favours.
Turning his horse in the opposite direction, Isembard Arryn launched himself with more speed and changing the position of his lance, as Martyn Hightower, in his pride, did the same. Neither were going to accept a draw.
The loudest claps came from Princess Visenya and Little Jeyne when Lord Isembard finally knocked Martyn Hightower off his horse.
"Where is Sarra?" Visenya suddenly asked, concerned, as she looked around and noticed that she was not with them, as she should have been.
"She told me that she was going to a see a maester. She was not well." Elinor explained.
"Oh. Well, I should be with her…" Visenya whispered, standing up and locking eyes with Viserys for the first time since the jousting started.
He was sitting next to King Aegon and Prince Daeron, all the while rubbing at his bottom lip when gazing upon her figure. Visenya could offer only a small smirk, as she sat back down in the most sensual way she knew.
"Ser Robert Darklyn! His opponent is to be Ser Justin Massey!"
Elinor clapped for her cousin, hoping he would prevail.
"That is most strange. I do not believe the Darklyns were to make an appearance on this day." Visenya remarked.
"And how is Ser Robert so short?"
Prudence was the one who made the observation and pointed at the rather small figure, on a horse, with the correct armour and heraldry, while holding a lance which was mayhaps a little too heavy.
The jousting proved to be most brutal, and Ser Justin Massey prevailed, knocking both the rider and the horse from the opposing side.
Ser Robert Darklyn remained on the ground, whilst the horse had managed to get up. It seemed as though he was unable to breathe in the armour. He was holding onto his belly, and coughing.
With the help of his Ser Justin, Ser Robert managed to take his helmet off, only to reveal…
"That is no Ser Robert! 'Tis Sarra!" Prudence exclaimed, gasping.
Visenya immediately stood and yelled out, "Call the maesters!"
She was now holding onto her skirts and rushing to see how badly her lady had been injured. Prudence, Little Jeyne and Elinor followed close behind, as panic set in and the jousting was stopped.
"Sarra! What is the meaning of this?" Visenya exclaimed, as she collapsed onto the ground, holding the young girl on her side so as to allow her to spit the blood from her mouth.
"I did not know, Princess. I would have never…" Ser Justin was desperately trying to explain.
"That is quite alright. The girl has fooled us all." Visenya replied.
"What a fool!" Prudence exclaimed, just as the maesters made their way to aid the poor girl.
"'Tis my fault. She told me she would do this. I did not report it." Baela stated, as soon as she, Rhaena, and more of the attended guests made their way inside the arena, to check on the Stark girl.
The maester who inspected them assured them that she would recover, but would of course, need plenty of bedrest.
Almost an hour had passed since the accident, and Sarra Stark was being scolded by Visenya, Baela and Rhaena.
"Please do not write of this to my mother and father."
"Oh, we shall, you foolish girl!" Baela spat.
The Lady of Driftmark had indeed been previously amused by the Stark girl's bravery and determination, but never did she believe that she would actually attempt something like this.
The tourney had evidently been stopped, and people huddled around the poor girl to make certain that she would be alright.
Corwyn had volunteered to take Sarra to her rooms so as she may rest.
It was then that Visenya noticed strange things having come to pass. The arena was empty, with the exception of their small party who was interested in Sarra Stark's recovery.
"Where had everyone gone?" The Princess whispered, not seeing Aegon or Viserys anywhere. Daenaera or her sons were nowhere in her sights either. A lot of the people who had come for the tourney were gone as well.
What could be more important than this accident and the foolish actions of an important guest from Winterfell?
"We must leave now!" Alyn Velaryon suddenly exclaimed from afar, coming to take Baela by the arm.
"Why? What is happening?" Baela asked, worried for the shocked look on her husband's face. It was not oft that she saw that expression.
All of a sudden, the arena was surrounded the members of the City Watch, swords at the ready, escorting the party back inside the Red Keep.
Visenya was hurrying along, intent of finding her brothers. Something was happening, and no one would tell her what.
And what were the men of the City Watch doing inside the Keep?
Looking towards them, the Princess observed how the Gold Cloaks were sealing the entries, locking everyone inside.
"What is happening?" Rhaena whispered, feeling the sudden urge to call out for Morning to protect her. Her husband, Corwyn, was holding Sarra Stark in his arms.
Alyn was leading them directly up the stairs to the private chambers, as the Gold Cloaks took their positions.
There were complaints which could be heard from the Great Hall. Complaints of the guests of the Court who had been locked inside.
Once they walked up the steps, Visenya had to reach for the stone wall in support when she heard the chilling cry from none other than Queen Daenaera herself.
The worst possible thing had entered Visenya's mind.
"Aegon? Aegon!" she exclaimed, suddenly running towards where the cries of anguish could be heard.
Everyone rushed to the nursery, from where the frightening sounds could be heard even clearer.
Queen Daenaera was on the knees on the cold ground, her fists slamming on the stones, her face red, as she cried out, "NOOOO! NOOOO! MY BABE! MY SON!"
King Aegon was standing, all stoic, as he gazed towards one of the cribs.
The maesters were huddled about. The wet nurses were crying.
Visenya pushed inside, her heart pounding, in complete shock at what she found.
Prince Baelor.
He looked to be sleeping…but not breathing.
"I'm afraid he's gone, Your Grace." Grand Maester Alford proclaimed, which only sent Daenaera into a rage.
"NO! NO! YOU BRING HIM BACK! BRING HIM BACK!" she yelled out, tears streaming down her cheeks, her throat hoarse, as she rushed forward and grabbed the Grand Maester by his cloak.
Corwyn and Alyn immediately pried the 'little queen' off the old man, as Rhaena cupped her cheeks, attempting to calm her.
Grand Maester Alford regained himself and spoke in hushed tones with the maesters.
Aegon remained standing, his eyes never leaving the crib where his son was laying. His eyes were wide, and he was not responding, regardless of who was speaking to him.
"Brother." Viserys attempted to reach him, but failed also. Shaking him by the shoulders did no good either.
Visenya was at a loss for words, her mouth parted, as she attempted to take deep breaths, but realized the air wouldn't reach her lungs.
"Viserys." she managed to whisper, just as she was feeling light headed.
Viserys rushed forward and caught her in his arms before she could hit the ground.
Trying to keep her eyes open, Visenya continued to whisper his name, all the while Daenaera's continued screams reached her ears.
Steadying her on her feet, Viserys cupped her cheek, parting her lips with his thumb.
His touch was all too comforting, and for a moment, Visenya could ignore everything around her and focus entirely on him.
"Visenya, breathe." he instructed her, and finally, she could.
They remained in an embrace, long enough for Visenya to regain her strength, all the while holding onto his arms for support.
"My Lord Hand." Grand Maester Alford interrupted them.
"What is it? Tell me!" Viserys hissed, his nostrils flaring, his eyes wild, knowing he was the one to handle the whole matter. Aegon could not be depended on.
"Sweetsleep. A very large dose of it. The prince had been poisoned.", the Grand Maester revealed.
Visenya gasped, looking towards Daenaera who was still being held by Alyn and Corwyn.
The 'little queen' had heard everything. She fell to her knees, Rhaena and Baela bending down along with her.
"SER RUSKYN!" Viserys immediately exclaimed, demanding the presence of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
Ser Raynard Ruskyn rushed inside the room.
"No one is to leave! Assemble your Kingsguard and command the Gold Cloaks to remain posted at all entries!" Viserys commanded him.
"Yes, my lord."
"And secure Prince Daeron's safety!"
Protecting the heir to the throne was of utmost importance in this moment. One prince had already been targeted and the killer achieved his purpose.
The entire Red Keep had been locked down. No one was to make a move without the Gold Cloaks knowing about it. Thousands of men moved about the corridors.
The royal family was now standing in the Great Hall, announcing the murder of Prince Baelor.
King Aegon was standing, but only his back was facing the crowd of confused folk, whilst his head was bent.
To the rest, he appeared broken. As broken as he had been many years ago, soon after the war was finished and his brother, Viserys, was still kept prisoner in Essos.
Queen Daenaera had remained in her rooms with Baela and Rhaena.
Watching her distressed state, Visenya remembered the last time she had sensed her fear. It had been the day of the grand feast in honour of the arrival of the House representatives for her mother's recognition as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Daenaera had rushed out of the room with Prince Baelor in her arms, and upon Visenya's insistence, the 'little queen' had confessed what had been troubling her.
Visenya knew that there was no time to be wasted, and as such, told Viserys everything she knew.
"Seize him!" Viserys exclaimed, pointing to Ser Gedmund Peake.
"My lord?!" the man exclaimed as Ser Edmund Warrick and Ser Agramore Cobb of the Kingsguard grabbed him.
"You have no right! No right! I did nothing!" Ser Gedmund yelled out, all the while being dragged to the black cells.
It was at that moment when a member of the City Watch had entered the Great Hall, and immediately rushed to Viserys' side, whispering something in his ear.
"Elinda Massey!" Viserys exclaimed soon after, which only made Visenya's face pale.
"Yes, my lord?" the woman whispered, coming forth, her hands rubbing against one another.
"To the black cells!" Viserys commanded Ser Dennis Whitfield.
"NO!" Visenya yelled out and tried to stop the Kingsguard from taking the woman away.
"Do not interfere!" Viserys hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.
"Why did you arrest her?! This is a grave error, Viserys! She could not have done this! She has served our family for years! She was loyal to our mother! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR WITS?"
"I have just been informed that she was seen outside the nursery before this happened."
"Who would tell you such lies?"
"The wet nurses."
"And were they not in the rooms as well?"
"They have been taken for questioning as well."
Taking a deep breath, Viserys tried to keep a level head, understanding that this family was his responsibility, henceforth. He would not require any distractions. Not as it had been as of late. He would not allow her to temper with his resolve.
"Until we discover the truth, no one is innocent. No exceptions. I will question whoever I deem necessary to question…and they shall answer me, one way or another. And you shall not interfere in any of it."
"But, I…"
Grabbing her by her shoulders, Viserys hissed, "You shall not interfere! Am I clear?"
His hands were trembling as he held onto her. Visenya could feel his distress. His guilt. He had always been the protector. It had been his responsibility. He had taken on the role with pride.
And now, his brother was once more damaged…his nephew was dead…and he had failed them all.
He was holding onto her like a mad man…like he would break at any moment. But he could not do so. Because they all depended on him.
There was a traitor and a murderer in their midst and Visenya knew that Viserys would not rest until the killer was discovered.
With tears streaming down her face, she could only whisper, "Yes.", in agreement.
…
The undergaoler directed Viserys through the darkness of the black cells.
Only one flame was to lead their way.
In the time which had passed, others had been dragged here by their hairs. Two squires, the stable boy, and a few lords from lesser Houses, who had been seen roaming the corridors at the time of the tourney.
Viserys had half a mind to drag Hightower here as well. There was no love lost between the Crown and the Hightowers, given their history. However, there was a limit to how much the Crown could push these interrogations, and as the Lord Hand, Viserys knew that well. Until there was any proof of such a conspiracy, the Hightowers and other important Houses could not be touched.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Viserys grabbed the torch and met with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
"Have they said anything of relevance?"
"I'm afraid not, my lord. Ser Gedmund is being highly resistant…as well as the stable boy." Ser Ruskyn reported, as he wiped the blood from his knuckles.
Raising an eyebrow, Viserys asked him, "The stable boy keeps quiet?"
"Indeed, he does. It had been only at first that he spoke. He said of course that he had no part in this, and then he said no more. Allowed me to take all the necessary…measures." the Lord Commander reported.
Cries of anguish were heard from another cell close to them, where Elinda Massey had been questioned. The woman had not been granted any leniency, despite her long-standing servitude to the Crown.
They could not be certain of anything.
Viserys closed his eyes, a moment of weakness having passed him as he heard Elinda call out for mercy.
This was the woman who had been beside his mother almost her entire life. She had been there when Viserys himself had been born on Dragonstone. How could he allow this to happen?
And then, the image of his poor nephew filled his mind, and Viserys turned back to the calculating and impartial Hand he always intended to be.
Grand Maester Alford walked out of the cell which was holding Ser Gedmund Peake, shaking his head in the process.
"Well?"
"They all say the same, my Prince. Except for the Lady Elinda, of course."
"What do they say?" Viserys asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"That…well…begging your pardon, my Lord Hand…they say that they are not going to fall prey to your tactics. They say…well…they mentioned the Rogue Prince, your father. His cruelty and restlessness when dealing with his enemies. And they claim that you are not like him. That there is certainly no cruelty in your person. That there is no reason for them to remain in these cells…for you are not going to bend the rules of propriety. You are not your father. That is what they say."
Grand Maester Alford stuttered in the midst of his explanation, especially when seeing the look on Prince Viserys' face.
It was as though a thin sheet of ice had settled on his already pale face.
His eye twitching, the corner of his mouth curling slightly, Viserys whispered callously, "Is that so?"
A/N: Thank you for reading! The story has been updated on Ao3 as well.