The Princess From Lys pt 2
*Italic is High Valyrian*
"It makes little sense." Larra began as she walked around her guest chambers, "For the Crown to suddenly take such an interest in the Stepstones."
"Perhaps they are attempting to learn from past mistakes." Sandoq said standing in the center of the room at attention whilst she moved about the space observing all the carvings of dragons hidden in small spaces like the bedposts, the window frames and the door handles.
"No one calls upon Lys unless it suits their interests." She pondered while her mind wandered to what those interests might be. She knew little about Westeros and its people. The inner workings of which of the great houses were allied and which were enemies was constantly changing. Peoples around all of Essos mocked the Seven Kingdoms and their incessant backstabbing and plotting. A nasty side effect of former kings being forced to bend the knee and become one nation. Ironically it was the Targaryen dynasty that caused this poison to trickle through the generations, but it was also the Targaryen dynasty which held it all together. Until now.
The last conflict in the Stepstones showed the rest of the realm just how fractured King Viserys' hold on the Seven Kingdoms was. How long the battle dragged on while the Crown took no action. Pirates from Lys travelled back and forth always bringing news until somehow one day the tides turned and the Seasnake and the Rogue Prince claimed victory over the Crabfeeder.
If the Crown was involving itself in the conflict this time, it made greater sense to turn their eyes to Dorne not Lys. Unless. . . unless the concern over the Stepstones was a rouse, a smokescreen. But then. . . what was their true intention? Lys offered little in means of navy or army. It was common knowledge they employed sellswords and pirates to protect themselves and battle for the lands they sought.
It could be their wealth. The Rogare Bank did hold investments from many Westerosi lords and highborns. And gold was always a necessary component when one went to war. Was the Crown financially unsound perhaps?
"Deception was to be expected my lady." Sandoq replied breaking Larra of her thoughts. "After all, that is why your father sent you and not any of your brothers."
She looked over her shoulder at him with a smirk playing at her lips. Sandoq shook his head and rolled his eyes, smiling as well.
"Nevertheless." She sighed, "I require brushing up on my current histories of Westeros."
"A difficult task in a land where you do not speak the language nor are able to read any of their books."
With another sigh she paced the room, ending up at her trunk she flicked the lid open and pulled a lavender shawl out from inside. The matching dress she wore was the highest fashion in Lys, but given the warmer climate on her island it was not a gown that would suit her well here. It had no sleeves and a circular neckline. Darker purple rope swagged off her shoulders connecting at the front of the dress and the back. The lighter fabric hung low on her spine, exposing her shoulder blades but the shawl helped cover her up. Digging to the bottom of the trunk she pulled out a book and held it up for Sandoq to see. She wiggled it playfully.
"A gift from the Black Swan." She smiled.
Both she and Sandoq knew the Black Swan's disdain for Westeros, but being born and raised here she knew well about their customs, and their plots. When word had reached her about Larra's journey she was quick to find a book she thought would help her young friend and Larra only had time to quickly flip through it before leaving home.
Written in the margins were annotations by her friend, extra tidbits and tips about prominent members of the royal family and the Houses closest to the throne these days.
Her door opened as some of her ladies arrived from the ship carrying more of her things. They each bowed to her as they entered and began getting to work unpacking.
"Do not touch this." She pointed to the trunk she had hid her book in.
"Yes my lady." The maid replied before curtseying once more.
Larra's eyes met Sandoq's and the pair of them headed for the door. He held it open for her as they entered the hall. She tugged her shawl tighter around herself, book still in hand.
"I do not recall the Lord Hand mentioning what court was in session for Sandoq, do you?"
"He did not say my lady. I would wager something boring."
"And why would you say that?" she asked with a quirked brow as she turned to him.
He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to her ear, despite very few in the Red Keep knowing the language they spoke, "I've heard talk that the most interesting petitions are later in the fortnight."
She smirked at him, the promise of entertainment – and the chance to see the inner workings of Westerosi backstabbing at play – brightening her mood.
"And have you heard of any such place where a lady might read in private?"
He nodded with a smile as he led her through the halls. Sandoq could always be counted upon to keep a sharp ear out for anything being whispered in the shadows. Hence his name, The Shadow. Her sworn protector had once been a champion in the fighting pits before her father had seen him fight on one of his trips and bought him for her. His face held more than a couple white lined scars as a reminder of those days. He got off better then his opponents, it was said he had a hundred wins to his name, though whenever she asked him for the real number he would smirk and hold his tongue cheekily.
He led her to a small inner garden with a tree covered in blood red leaves. The little oasis was beautiful and Larra found herself drawn to a stone floored section off to the side where above on wooden planks flowers grew downward like something out of a story for children. There was a long cushioned bench that ran the length of the space and a few small tables where she sat and opened her book.
Written in High Valyrian Larra flipped through until she found names she already knew would hold value here.
'Otto Hightower, Hand to King Jaehaerys before his passing. Then Hand to the current King Viserys. He had lost his beloved wife many years ago' which made Larra feel sympathy – before she saw the inked-in line that led to notes along the margin, written in the Black Swan's hand.
'The loss of his wife turned Otto into a cold man. All emotion forgotten, maneuvering his daughter into a position to wed the widowed king was less for her own good then it was for his.'
Larra's brows pinched together in the middle as she made a mental note to observe the interactions between the Hand and the Queen. Did Queen Alicent know she was being used as her father's pawn? If so, did she ever stand up to him? Or did she simply play the part of his puppet?
The book went on, discussing House Hightower and their seat in Oldtown.
'Home to the Citadel, the maesters are men of science and study. The Citadel itself is funded from taxes paid to Oldtown and payments from lords for the service of maesters. The Lord of Oldtown includes Protector of the Citadel among his titles. The bond between the Citadel and House Hightower is as old as the realm itself. House Hightower played an integral role in its foundation long before the Seven Kingdoms were united under Aegon the Conqueror.'
Another line of ink drew her eye to more writing, this time along the bottom of the page.
'The world the Citadel is building has no place in it for sorcery or prophecy or glass candles, much less for dragons. The maesters are wary of anything that has touched magic – even the Targaryens they claim to serve. If Otto's selfish ambition were to grow beyond his station he could use the maesters to strike blows from within. Trust no one but your own people should you fall ill while away.'
Then Sandoq's quick movement drew her attention from the pages of the book. She slammed it shut in fright as he spun and his great curved sword of Valyrian steel with its dragonbone hilt came to rest less than a millimeter from the flesh of the man her protector had caught approaching from around a pillar between the garden and the covered hall.
She released a breath of relief and smirked as Prince Aemond raised his chin, the tip of the sword to his neck. He seemed calm as he looked Sandoq in the eye, her protector still and ready to strike. She knew it was Prince Aemond of course because of his well known wound. Missing an eye they said, and no one knew for certain what was left under the leather patch he now donned.
"Stay your blade Sandoq." Larra called, tilting her head to see the pair better, her pale blonde hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain. "Prince Aemond is far too wise to harm me in his own home."
Any other person would recoil and begin to shower the prince with apologies once they learned who he was. Not Sandoq. Another second ticked by before The Shadow did as he was bid. He may have put away his weapon, but that did not mean he backed down. He took a couple steps back to allow the prince entrance to the garden and Aemond walked from under the shadows of the hall into the light.
Larra had only gotten a brief glimpse of him behind Otto earlier but in full sunlight she realized how handsome he was. Many compared the Targaryens to ferrets or weasels she had heard, but Prince Aemond's features seemed to toe the line perfectly between chiseled and soft. His skin looked smooth and almost delicate, as did his silky hair that was tied back perfectly under his eyepatch, not a single strand out of place. His posture was tall and confident, she doubted he'd ever slouched a day in his life. His clothing wasn't even wrinkled. He was the perfect image of a prince.
As he and Sandoq finished their little face off and the prince drew nearer to where she sat Larra could see more of his finer features. The depth of his eye wasn't calculating nor malicious, but innocently observing. Cataloging what he could about her by her appearance. His expression was unamused, not even a mask of false kindness like Otto had been trying to pull. Perhaps he found himself above such falsehoods and games.
But it was the scar, both above and below the eyepatch that she found most frustrating about him. She wanted to rip it off and see what lay beneath. Or order him to remove it in her presence. Unfortunately for her this was one of the few people in the world who she could not order around. In fact, it was he who could order her to do almost anything and he would suffer no consequence no matter how appalling the order was.
But when he spoke his voice was cordial, polite, she was not sure why she expected it to be harsher, more stern.
"My lady." He acknowledged, in High Valyrian no less, how considerate of him. But she reminded herself to stay on her toes, he could be trying to play to her gentle side. "May I join you?"
"Daor (No)." He had already begun to sit and paused mid-movement, his eye turning to her rather quickly and his shock obvious for a glimmering second before he hid it behind his own mask and straightened up. Larra's innocent smile widened as she tilted her head, though it was obvious she was not as innocent as she seemed.
"Why are you here Prince Aemond?" she asked, her voice light and coy, "Is it to spy or seduce?"
"Why would you be under either impression my lady? Could I not simply be trying to welcome you into my home?"
She smiled. "Doubtful. Although." She stood and with slow steps began to close the distance between them, "If your intention was to spy you are doing a poor job at it. And if the intent was to seduce, well, that would be comical."
"Comical?"
By this point she had reached him and lifting her dainty hand began to walk two fingers up his chest, watching her own movements and not looking at him. And when she spoke her voice had changed, it was now a bit deeper, less childlike, and a soft whisper escaped her plump lips, "When it comes to the art of seduction, the Lysene are never bested."
When her fingers reached his collar she looked up at him from under her lashes. His lone eye was glued to her, if she didn't know better she'd say he'd turned to stone. He was stiff under her touch, like he was holding his breath. Though whether that was to promote some front that she was not getting to him, or whether he was holding his breath in anticipation remained to be seen.
She lowered her voice further, "I would no doubt put you on your back, rather than you putting me on mine."
She saw his adam's apple bob with his swallow.
She giggled and turned away from him. She headed back to where she'd been sitting and retrieved her book. When she glanced back at him he was still staring at her, his body tense.
"It would be quite a change for you I'd imagine." She continued, her voice now returning to the higher pitched, almost child like tone it held before. "I hear when you spar it is always your opponent who ends up with his spine in the dirt."
Aemond exhaled through his nose as a smirk played at the edge of his mouth. "Perhaps you would like to accompany me then my lady. Court is out for the day if you would like to see me spar for yourself."
Her grin went from playful to intrigued. Aemond saw the change in her face, she might have begun their conversation playing games but he had just found something that lured her in like a fish on a hook. Stepping back he jutted his chin toward the hall. Larra cast a quick glance at Sandoq who had turned away but kept an open ear out, before her eyes returned to the prince. "Do they wager?"
This time Aemond let the smirk win as he approached her, hands clasped behind his back. When they were but a breath apart he leaned down to her ear keeping his eye on the wall behind her while she made sure to avoid his gaze by looking to the dragon shaped clasp on his tunic.
"Only when they think no one is looking." He whispered before backing away, turning, and taking his leave.
Her eyes stayed glued to his form as his hair swished as he walked away from her. He didn't even glance back, not once. Larra could feel the challenge in the air.
"My lady." Sandoq called, drawing her attention, though her eyes never left the last spot the One-Eyed Prince had been.
"Mmm?"
"We are in a dangerous place. At a dangerous time. This might not be the best moment for your games."
Sandoq knew her so well. Her eyes didn't turn to him in the slightest as she responded, "But I want to play with him."