An ASOIAF self-insert as Visenya Targaryen starting less than two months before the Conquest is begun.
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A Queen's Conquest (ASOIAF SI)
- Thread starter Widowmaker
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A Queen's Conquest
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Prologue
I awoke from my slumber with the nagging knowledge at the back of my head that my breasts were smooshed against my bed. Breasts? That's not right. I thought to myself, And I'm fairly certain I haven't slept in a bed in close to a year. My head swam with questions, some of which were only beginning to be answered by things I was remembering, though I did not remember knowing them. My eyes opening showed only a fuzzy image of a large room obscured by a curtain of pale hair in front of me, and before I did anything else, a hand pat revealed another fairly interesting detail about my anatomy between the legs. Normally, this happened to me only in a dream. Brushing the hair out of my eyes revealed a... strangely familiar place. Not familiar in that I recognized it, but familiar in that I felt I ought to have recognized it.
Sea-blue silks on a large ornade looking bed, downy pillows, what I assumed was a mirror, and a mosaic on the walls depicting a woman on a beach and a ship sailing away, iron candelabra set on a bedside table of whatever kind of wood, it was lacquered is all I knew. I knew the bedside table contained a chamber pot, somehow. Climbing out of the bed, and noting idly that I'd slept alone that night thankfully. Don't I every night? Fuck me, what is today? A nearby window was open, and barely taking note of my nightwear I looked out from the window, every step to it hitting me with a bounce I found myself liking more for the affirmation than anything, and so I saw a fairly.. natural landscape. No streetlights, no distant radio towers, just the roar of the waves hitting rocks, and the cries of gulls over the shore. "This has to be a fucking joke." I laughed to myself, a dark almost melodious sound, slapping my cheeks with hands too callused and attached to arms too strong to be my own.
Pinching the bridge of "my" nose, "my" other hand rested on my hip and I paced about the room looking for some kind of answer to my predicament, even as the things I knew seemed to keep flowing in. Curiosity slowly overcame the subtle terror, I approached the mirror and saw... a fairly attractive, surprised-looking woman. Very fit, and maybe in her twenties. I wasn't an expert. That's you, you fucking goombah. What really caught my attention was not he- my, femaleness though that was certainly something. No, it was the pale, almost moonlit-silver hair and purple eyes. Fuck me, I look like a-
A door opening broke my train of thought entirely.
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Pine resin, quicklime, salt, sulfur, distilled coal tar and peat. Alchemical Fire. Volc- I was interrupted by the arrival of my sister. If the unannounced door opening was any indication. Is that what I think of her? Not a day ago she felt almost half a stranger.
A scarlet shape was all the confirmation I needed.
"Sister, I would have thought you would be enjoying all there is to enjoy on Driftmark. Yet here I find you; nose deep in ink." Rhaenys teased, her head cocked to one side, hair hanging loosely down to her waist with the faintest curl at the tips. She was glancing at what I had been writing, then to the dozen-ish pages of paper forming a small stack beside the one I was currently writing on and I felt a tension leave my shoulders I had not known was even there.
And I'd have thought you'd be with Aegon. Part of me wanted to say, but I quashed it, "What do you want?" I asked, mildly annoyed at being interrupted. Her hand touched my shoulder and I tensed up slightly, at that she frowned.
"Aegon is busy with our uncle and I find myself bored." She answered, as if that wasn't a stupid reason. Is it really stupid? Or are you being too harsh on these people? It is not their fault. I sighed. It really was a tiring day.
"Given Aegon's plans, I hardly think you would be bored." I replied, as she looked over the papers I'd already written. Ideas, mostly. On what I could remember of administrative concepts and bureaucratic apparati. Her lips curled to a frown as she muttered something. Did I do something wrong? Does she suspect…?
My heart pounding in my chest, I asked, "Did you say something?"
She looked as if she wanted to say something but shook her head, "I… 'Senya, let's just go riding."
She didn't even have to make the tone pleading, I felt it in every word. Part of me felt bad, as I'd avoided practically everyone. Aside from practice in the training yard early in the morning and a meal taken with my new kinsmen the day before. Which reminded me, "I should break my fast first, then we can go."
Rhaenys just stared, lilac-eyes widening, "It is closer to sunset than midday. You have not even had breakfast?"
"I had bread." I weakly protested, the bread loaf quarter still mostly uneaten. When I tried to stand up I nearly fell over, my legs shaking, my stomach hurting I hadn't even noticed I was this hungry. I heard her mutter something in the Westerosi common tongue, and felt my heart almost leap from my chest when she grabbed my arm fairly tightly and shoved the bread into my hands.
"We are leaving. Now." I did not argue with her on that as she very nearly dragged me, impressive, given she was at least two inches shorter, and probably a couple dozen pounds lighter.
Not long after, we sat down and ate. Well, I was eating. She was alternating between reading what I'd written and watching me eat. I felt almost bad that she was so concerned. Usually I wasn't so bad about not eating, Normally I have you, love. My heart felt heavy for what felt like the hundredth time that day. I tried not to let it show.
"Is this why you have avoided me? Writing? Is this for that idea of Aegon's? Conquering the Sunset Lands?" She sighed, "With any luck, our uncle will convince him to set aside this.. This fool notion. I could understand if he wished to take the Riverlands. But he means to take all of it? I love him, truly. But he has no plan, 'Senya."
"Daemon won't even try to convince him, he wants Driftmark's power to grow. Even if he did want to, our brother is too enamored of this dream of his to think of setting it aside. He would set out to conquer the Westerosi if all he had was a dinghy, Balerion and Orys." I replied, almost snorting.
She waved the pile of parchment, "So this is for that. Why?"
"I am planning for the future. Someone has to." I told her, and finished the meal, rinsing my hands. My hands.
"I'll race you to Dragonstone and back." I changed the subject and forced a smile. I owed her, and she deserved better.
"Does that mean you and Vhagar won't be eating until tomorrow?" She smiled and I laughed as I gently shoved her shoulder.
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Drumming my fingers on the impressive goldenheart table, a gift from my father to my mother's kin, Visenya's mother's kin, remember that! Ignoring the gaggle of silver-haired heathens speaking of invasion plans I found my gaze wandering from the view of the sea granted by the open window to the room as a whole. By how the skies looked it seemed close to late afternoon.
The solar of the Lord of Driftmark was familiar to me, and yet felt almost new. This time not for the normal reasons that the world itself was strange and familiar. No, the last time I, or Visenya, remembered being here was nearly a decade before. When Daemon's father, my grandfather, Laenor Velaryon still ruled, shortly after my great-aunt's death. Since those days the room, a large chamber really, had been renovated. Daemon's tastes in decoration were grander than those of his father, though also more influenced by the Westerosi style.
Still, tapestries depicting some city from the Freehold mainland I couldn't remember the name of hung on the wall alongside busts of past lords of Driftmark resting on small waist-high columns marked with bronze plaques remained from Laenor's days as lord. Were these lost in the Dance? Or perhaps even placed in some dank cellar come the time of the series? Perhaps they're still there. With more busts and names. Not that it mattered. I doubted tragic Alyssa, wily Corlys, or young Monterys would ever be born and if they somehow were I'd be dead long before the end of the first century anyway. Dead with a name and face not my own. Does she miss me? Does he? My heart ached again.
"Are you in agreement, Archontissa?" I glanced to where that amused voice had come from and restrained the urge to snap back that came from the me that was… the old me.
"I am afraid I did not hear you, Lord Velaryon." I replied to my uncle. He was a handsome man even by Valyrian standards. Clothed all in a dark blue velvet save for the white lace at his neck and cuffs and the silver-work of his black knee-high soft leather boots, he cut quite the figure. Taller than Aegon by an inch if I had to guess. His lilac eyes so like to and yet unlike those of Rhaenys. I had never liked them, those eyes held little excess warmth for his sister's children.
Aegon didn't bother letting our uncle speak up and explained, "You and our esteemed uncle shall lead the fleet against the Arryn fleet at Gulltown and push from there along the coast until the Riverlands are ours and I can bring the Riverlords to reinforce you with Ser Aethon in the vanguard meeting you at Saltpans." He said it as though he expected it to happen. More a command than anything. Does he picture troop movements on a little map in his head? I had to keep myself from laughing at the image.
"Rhaenys and Orys will be going against Argilac, then?" I asked, though I knew the answer already.
"So you were listening to that much at least." He stifled a chuckle, "What are your thoughts?"
I smiled, "It might be best if our fleet did not engage with that of Gulltown. The Braavosi have made some form of alliance with the Arryns, and at least ten war galleys from them sit in wait alongside the rest of the ships."
Aegon's brow furrowed, "Where did you hear this?"
I felt my heart drop to my stomach as my thoughts raced for excuses to cover this fuck up.
"Dragonstone. I heard it from sailors there when Rhaenys and I were there yesterday. We stopped at the harbor."
We did no such thing. Looking at Rhaenys, I saw no hint of surprise save for a very slightly raised eyebrow.
"And who were these sailors that knew so much, I wonder?" Came the voice of my uncle, composed yet ever so slightly amused. I could just see the smile in my mind's eye.
My sister spoke before I even had a chance to retort, "Men of little account, Lord Velaryon." Never had Rhaenys' voice sounded so beautiful to me as it did right now.
"Of course, Archontissa." I caught him waving his hand almost casually as if to dismiss the whole line of discussion.
"How do you propose we deal with the Arryn boy-king, then? His mother is a formidable woman from what I hear, and if we do not take Gulltown then we have no foothold in the Vale. It is quite hard, after all, to march from Saltpans to the Gates of the Moon if the path is not cleared. We would have to march through the Mountains of the Moon from the west." Aethon finally spoke up, though the voices were different, he and my brother looked quite alike.
"That would be quite the feat, even for our great conqueror!" I smothered the chuckle that threatened to escape my throat even as I said the words. The amusement was worth it, even with the mild confusion I seemed to have stirred.
Our meeting continued on, mostly hammering out the details of the invasion and what kind of timetable we were working with. We expected to set sail within the month. To arrive at the place where I knew the future city of King's Landing would be, to subdue nearby lords and then we would follow roughly what I remembered of the canon plan. Still, aside from that close call I considered it.. A success, I suppose. Afterwards I took Aegon aside outside the chambers he and Rhaenys shared as guests here.
"Brother, would you like to make a wager?" I almost smiled at him.
"What might that wager be, Visenya?" He asked, looking genuinely curious.
"That I will conquer the Vale before you have handled Harren." I idly tugged at my braid, a warmth spreading from my chest. A smile threatening to show.
"Oh? What do you seek as a prize for winning, I wonder?" He asked, smiling ever so slightly. Looking less serious than I'd seen him all day. His purple-eyes seemed almost pleasant to me.
"Hopefully a child, nephew. After all, you are without an heir of your body." Came again the voice of the man I liked least on this island, and I was reminded of that fact again. A marriage I do not want. I want you, love. Why? Why now that I have what I wanted, can we not be together?
I almost did not notice the sensation of a light yet somehow familiar feeling set of lips brushing against my own.
Almost.
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The skies were clear as I made my way past the gates of the keep with the first slivers of early dawn just behind me, barely even taking notice of the armored guardsmen parting for me, dressed in the new Targaryen livery Aegon's idea I remembered and my heart raced for a moment before I breathed deeply to put it under control. Ingrained memory being my guide through the large stronghold, I made my way to the Stone Drum.
I enjoyed Dragonstone. Or, rather, I enjoyed the quiet and peace of the keep whilst my brother and sister were away. I suspected that wouldn't be much longer as we had planned to return today anyway. I would enjoy what little time I had away from them regardless.
After the night before I didn't want to be anywhere near him. My hand gripped at Dark Sister's sheath, I wished I'd had her the night before. I would have been safe.
With every step through the castle of my ancestors I found I had some fondness for the dragon stonework all over the damn place, the imagery of dragons and cities from the old Valyrian mainland on mosaics and ceiling domes wrought by sorcery centuries before m- Visenya's birth. Memories came to me of columns of both sorcery shaped stone and similar though marble-clad columns in the great hall itself which boasted the highest ceilings and bright murals and friezes made in the Freehold itself. I loved it all even though I still thought it gaudy and tacky. It was comforting from familiarity alone. I knew this place. It was home. It was safe. Rounding up servants was fairly easy, and I had them prepare a bath. I needed one badly. Who cared if I might have barked orders at them like an agitated dog? I needed to be clean, and it did not take all that long for me to be cleaned.
Even if it took a fair deal longer for me to feel that way. I ensured Dark Sister was always close.
Clad in light clothing and padded gambeson, my silvery hair braided, I made my way to the practice yard itself, Dark Sister sheathed at my hip. Some men were already practicing, most of them men-at-arms but another I knew and greeted me with a smile.
"Welcome home, sister." A faint amusement lit up the dark purple eyes of Orys Baratheon. His lips curled into a smile. His dark brown, nearly black hair shorn to the nape of his neck recently. He was of a height with me. Despite his hair, and his height being lesser to that of my trueborn brother, he was very handsome, though without the cruelly perfect features of our father. I could only see Aegon in his face.
I forced a smile, "Practice with me." I commanded, though he was Aegon's castellan at present and in name he was in charge of Dragonstone, he obeyed without complaint. I wish he had listened to me. My stomach lurched and I shook away the thought.
It wasn't remotely fair. I was his liege lord's wife, and a more talented warrior besides. We sparred and practiced for what felt to me like all day, but really only lasted until late morning. I felt great, though he was going to have bruises, part of me knew without looking. I struck harder than I should have, and he did not complain even once. Though he was clearly not happy about it, I noticed as we left the yard. I tried not to look at his face as I placed a hand on his shoulder while we walked to what I assumed would be the great hall.
"I am sorry. I should not have struck you so." I truly was sorry. He had done nothing wrong. It wasn't his fault he looked like him. I shouldn't have let it out on you.
He laughed it off, "Don't worry. We've all been of an ill-temper since the Archon left. We are soon to leave for war, after all and yet all we do is sit and wait. Many are eager to earn lands of their own. Compared to Lord Qoherys, you are not so bad." At that last he grimaced.
Quenton Qoherys. Aegon's sworn sword, and companion since the conflict in Volantis that brought down the aspirations it held for being the new Valyria. He'd lost his family to the infighting among the Volantene Old Blood in the leadup to the last coalition against Volantis. His family had been Elephants that opposed the dominant Tigers. I felt some pity for him, the man was only two and th- thirty-two and had lost his brothers and sisters and parents and most of his extended family. Only two sons yet lived, and he narrowly escaped death himself. He'd stayed at Dragonstone ever since, sworn to the Archon.
"I suppose him wanting land is only natural. I wouldn't want to be leeching off the table and coffers of another forever either." I laughed, despite nothing even being that funny. He laughed too. Though neither of us spoke after. My eyes found the decorations on several columns, and I considered them beautiful in their own right. Dragon motif or no, the detail was exquisite and I found my gaze flitting from wall to wall as I took in the sights.
This continued until we parted at the great hall itself. I'd wanted to laugh at the fact the whole damn thing was shaped like a resting dragon. With the entranceway being a maw, teeth and all. I knew it was, certainly. But another set of eyes, my true eyes, felt it as a fresh experience. Not too long afterwards I'd returned to what felt to both parts of me as a sanctuary. My own chambers, a place where I could close the world out. Sitting on the edge of a bed that I recognized from childhood. Not yours.
A place to think.
And so I did.
I had Dark Sister almost drawn by instinct before remembering who it was, even then my hand rested on her hilt. Idly, I noticed the late morning sky had given way to the early afternoon.
Rhaenys' hands were raised in what I guessed was a gesture meant to reassure me that she had nothing on her. I mentally kicked myself. She didn't deserve that. It's not her fault.
"'Senya, there is no one here but us. I promise. I had the guards sent away. I did not even bring Alarra." Her favorite maidservant, from what I recalled. "I just want to talk."
I looked down at my hands.
"You lied, sister." Those words hit me harder than I thought they might. She is her sister, not yours.
"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about?" The words sounded lame and half-assed even to me as I actually looked at her. She was today wearing her riding outfit rather than the scarlet dress from yesterday. Her hair done up in a loose ponytail.
She only sighed, only making me feel like I'd done something wrong,"You said you learned of the Braavosi making some pact with the Arryns. From… sailors, here."
"I did." I forced the words out.
She laughed incredulously, "Was it before or after we spent our time together speaking with the port authorities? Or mayhap when we spoke to that cloth merchant from Leng? 'Senya, I was with you. We did not speak to any sailors! Why did you lie about this? What is wrong with you of late? You have barely spoken to anyone for days! And when I come to find out what is wrong you draw your sword on me!" Her words had me hiding my face in my hands, trying to think of something. I did not imagine telling her Dark Sister did not actually leave her sheath would help.
I bit my lip and looked up, "I am sorry for lying, but the means by which I learned did not involve any wagging of tongues, and I have known for longer than a few days."
"How?" Her voice came out less frustrated now, and more curious. I frowned, not sure how I was going to phrase it.
"I…" Her lilac eyes seemed to bore into me, I breathed in and out, "A dream." I tried to find the words, "It was revealed to me in a dream. Not a normal dream, I swear it. I know it was true. I saw it. I saw you in the Stormlands too. Both you and Orys. You fought on muddy ground during a storm, the Storm King leading his banners against you near his own lands. Orys was wounded, Meraxes grounded in the storm. Our uncle was slain at Gulltown in battle." I sighed.
"You swear that this dream… that you saw what you believe are events to come?" Her voice was softer now as she sat beside me, her hand on my shoulder was gentle yet firm. It was a surprise when she brought me in for a fairly firm hug. She's not your sister. For the first time in several days I shut that voice in my head out and simply returned the hug.
I half-smiled, nodding, "If we keep to the present course, certainly. I would recommend you slow your march slightly. The storm in my dream did not seem the kind that would have lasted longer than a day." I explained. As well, the Last Storm made the battle difficult for the Targaryens as best I recalled. The muddy ground hindering their men.
I continued explaining.
"As for me? When we've secured the Blackwater Bay, I will take the Vale without need for a single battle. Our uncle need not be involved."
"Oh? And how do you plan to accomplish that?" She seemed to tease me, I idly touched my braid.
My lips curled into a smile, "I'll show the Arryns that their vaunted fortress, their Eyrie, is little more than a gilded cage."
The room went quiet as Rhaenys' face went from incredulous to thoughtful. She seemed as though she were about to say something but then shook her head.
She broke the silence of the past minute.
"Did you have any other dreams?" She asked, her voice clear and soothing.
I frowned, "Only the normal kind." We walked hand in hand, love. He had teased me and I him, and when I woke the pain seemingly healed in the dream had returned and with greater intensity. Even the memory of the dream made me smile, so long as I kept it from ending. For a moment the stone room became a beach with pink sand, blue skies and bluer water. Memory was shattered by noise.
"Then… I will consider what you have told me." I supposed that was all I would get from her as she got up to leave. "But to be frank, sister, you look horrid. You need sleep."
I felt a weight lift from my shoulders at that. "Thank you."
Then she paused and glanced back with a pained smile. "Do not think I have forgotten the matter of your odd behavior, sister. We shall speak of it after you have gotten some sleep."
I could only grimace as she left. I hadn't slept more than an hour in the past thirty.
For the rest of the day I tried to clear her last words from my mind and return to that sunlit beach until sleep claimed me.
All I could think of were her words.
Author's Note: I probably won't update super often but what can ya do. Feedback is welcome.
Author's note 2: I was told I should post it here so I am.
Sea-blue silks on a large ornade looking bed, downy pillows, what I assumed was a mirror, and a mosaic on the walls depicting a woman on a beach and a ship sailing away, iron candelabra set on a bedside table of whatever kind of wood, it was lacquered is all I knew. I knew the bedside table contained a chamber pot, somehow. Climbing out of the bed, and noting idly that I'd slept alone that night thankfully. Don't I every night? Fuck me, what is today? A nearby window was open, and barely taking note of my nightwear I looked out from the window, every step to it hitting me with a bounce I found myself liking more for the affirmation than anything, and so I saw a fairly.. natural landscape. No streetlights, no distant radio towers, just the roar of the waves hitting rocks, and the cries of gulls over the shore. "This has to be a fucking joke." I laughed to myself, a dark almost melodious sound, slapping my cheeks with hands too callused and attached to arms too strong to be my own.
Pinching the bridge of "my" nose, "my" other hand rested on my hip and I paced about the room looking for some kind of answer to my predicament, even as the things I knew seemed to keep flowing in. Curiosity slowly overcame the subtle terror, I approached the mirror and saw... a fairly attractive, surprised-looking woman. Very fit, and maybe in her twenties. I wasn't an expert. That's you, you fucking goombah. What really caught my attention was not he- my, femaleness though that was certainly something. No, it was the pale, almost moonlit-silver hair and purple eyes. Fuck me, I look like a-
A door opening broke my train of thought entirely.
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Pine resin, quicklime, salt, sulfur, distilled coal tar and peat. Alchemical Fire. Volc- I was interrupted by the arrival of my sister. If the unannounced door opening was any indication. Is that what I think of her? Not a day ago she felt almost half a stranger.
A scarlet shape was all the confirmation I needed.
"Sister, I would have thought you would be enjoying all there is to enjoy on Driftmark. Yet here I find you; nose deep in ink." Rhaenys teased, her head cocked to one side, hair hanging loosely down to her waist with the faintest curl at the tips. She was glancing at what I had been writing, then to the dozen-ish pages of paper forming a small stack beside the one I was currently writing on and I felt a tension leave my shoulders I had not known was even there.
And I'd have thought you'd be with Aegon. Part of me wanted to say, but I quashed it, "What do you want?" I asked, mildly annoyed at being interrupted. Her hand touched my shoulder and I tensed up slightly, at that she frowned.
"Aegon is busy with our uncle and I find myself bored." She answered, as if that wasn't a stupid reason. Is it really stupid? Or are you being too harsh on these people? It is not their fault. I sighed. It really was a tiring day.
"Given Aegon's plans, I hardly think you would be bored." I replied, as she looked over the papers I'd already written. Ideas, mostly. On what I could remember of administrative concepts and bureaucratic apparati. Her lips curled to a frown as she muttered something. Did I do something wrong? Does she suspect…?
My heart pounding in my chest, I asked, "Did you say something?"
She looked as if she wanted to say something but shook her head, "I… 'Senya, let's just go riding."
She didn't even have to make the tone pleading, I felt it in every word. Part of me felt bad, as I'd avoided practically everyone. Aside from practice in the training yard early in the morning and a meal taken with my new kinsmen the day before. Which reminded me, "I should break my fast first, then we can go."
Rhaenys just stared, lilac-eyes widening, "It is closer to sunset than midday. You have not even had breakfast?"
"I had bread." I weakly protested, the bread loaf quarter still mostly uneaten. When I tried to stand up I nearly fell over, my legs shaking, my stomach hurting I hadn't even noticed I was this hungry. I heard her mutter something in the Westerosi common tongue, and felt my heart almost leap from my chest when she grabbed my arm fairly tightly and shoved the bread into my hands.
"We are leaving. Now." I did not argue with her on that as she very nearly dragged me, impressive, given she was at least two inches shorter, and probably a couple dozen pounds lighter.
Not long after, we sat down and ate. Well, I was eating. She was alternating between reading what I'd written and watching me eat. I felt almost bad that she was so concerned. Usually I wasn't so bad about not eating, Normally I have you, love. My heart felt heavy for what felt like the hundredth time that day. I tried not to let it show.
"Is this why you have avoided me? Writing? Is this for that idea of Aegon's? Conquering the Sunset Lands?" She sighed, "With any luck, our uncle will convince him to set aside this.. This fool notion. I could understand if he wished to take the Riverlands. But he means to take all of it? I love him, truly. But he has no plan, 'Senya."
"Daemon won't even try to convince him, he wants Driftmark's power to grow. Even if he did want to, our brother is too enamored of this dream of his to think of setting it aside. He would set out to conquer the Westerosi if all he had was a dinghy, Balerion and Orys." I replied, almost snorting.
She waved the pile of parchment, "So this is for that. Why?"
"I am planning for the future. Someone has to." I told her, and finished the meal, rinsing my hands. My hands.
"I'll race you to Dragonstone and back." I changed the subject and forced a smile. I owed her, and she deserved better.
"Does that mean you and Vhagar won't be eating until tomorrow?" She smiled and I laughed as I gently shoved her shoulder.
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Drumming my fingers on the impressive goldenheart table, a gift from my father to my mother's kin, Visenya's mother's kin, remember that! Ignoring the gaggle of silver-haired heathens speaking of invasion plans I found my gaze wandering from the view of the sea granted by the open window to the room as a whole. By how the skies looked it seemed close to late afternoon.
The solar of the Lord of Driftmark was familiar to me, and yet felt almost new. This time not for the normal reasons that the world itself was strange and familiar. No, the last time I, or Visenya, remembered being here was nearly a decade before. When Daemon's father, my grandfather, Laenor Velaryon still ruled, shortly after my great-aunt's death. Since those days the room, a large chamber really, had been renovated. Daemon's tastes in decoration were grander than those of his father, though also more influenced by the Westerosi style.
Still, tapestries depicting some city from the Freehold mainland I couldn't remember the name of hung on the wall alongside busts of past lords of Driftmark resting on small waist-high columns marked with bronze plaques remained from Laenor's days as lord. Were these lost in the Dance? Or perhaps even placed in some dank cellar come the time of the series? Perhaps they're still there. With more busts and names. Not that it mattered. I doubted tragic Alyssa, wily Corlys, or young Monterys would ever be born and if they somehow were I'd be dead long before the end of the first century anyway. Dead with a name and face not my own. Does she miss me? Does he? My heart ached again.
"Are you in agreement, Archontissa?" I glanced to where that amused voice had come from and restrained the urge to snap back that came from the me that was… the old me.
"I am afraid I did not hear you, Lord Velaryon." I replied to my uncle. He was a handsome man even by Valyrian standards. Clothed all in a dark blue velvet save for the white lace at his neck and cuffs and the silver-work of his black knee-high soft leather boots, he cut quite the figure. Taller than Aegon by an inch if I had to guess. His lilac eyes so like to and yet unlike those of Rhaenys. I had never liked them, those eyes held little excess warmth for his sister's children.
Aegon didn't bother letting our uncle speak up and explained, "You and our esteemed uncle shall lead the fleet against the Arryn fleet at Gulltown and push from there along the coast until the Riverlands are ours and I can bring the Riverlords to reinforce you with Ser Aethon in the vanguard meeting you at Saltpans." He said it as though he expected it to happen. More a command than anything. Does he picture troop movements on a little map in his head? I had to keep myself from laughing at the image.
"Rhaenys and Orys will be going against Argilac, then?" I asked, though I knew the answer already.
"So you were listening to that much at least." He stifled a chuckle, "What are your thoughts?"
I smiled, "It might be best if our fleet did not engage with that of Gulltown. The Braavosi have made some form of alliance with the Arryns, and at least ten war galleys from them sit in wait alongside the rest of the ships."
Aegon's brow furrowed, "Where did you hear this?"
I felt my heart drop to my stomach as my thoughts raced for excuses to cover this fuck up.
"Dragonstone. I heard it from sailors there when Rhaenys and I were there yesterday. We stopped at the harbor."
We did no such thing. Looking at Rhaenys, I saw no hint of surprise save for a very slightly raised eyebrow.
"And who were these sailors that knew so much, I wonder?" Came the voice of my uncle, composed yet ever so slightly amused. I could just see the smile in my mind's eye.
My sister spoke before I even had a chance to retort, "Men of little account, Lord Velaryon." Never had Rhaenys' voice sounded so beautiful to me as it did right now.
"Of course, Archontissa." I caught him waving his hand almost casually as if to dismiss the whole line of discussion.
"How do you propose we deal with the Arryn boy-king, then? His mother is a formidable woman from what I hear, and if we do not take Gulltown then we have no foothold in the Vale. It is quite hard, after all, to march from Saltpans to the Gates of the Moon if the path is not cleared. We would have to march through the Mountains of the Moon from the west." Aethon finally spoke up, though the voices were different, he and my brother looked quite alike.
"That would be quite the feat, even for our great conqueror!" I smothered the chuckle that threatened to escape my throat even as I said the words. The amusement was worth it, even with the mild confusion I seemed to have stirred.
Our meeting continued on, mostly hammering out the details of the invasion and what kind of timetable we were working with. We expected to set sail within the month. To arrive at the place where I knew the future city of King's Landing would be, to subdue nearby lords and then we would follow roughly what I remembered of the canon plan. Still, aside from that close call I considered it.. A success, I suppose. Afterwards I took Aegon aside outside the chambers he and Rhaenys shared as guests here.
"Brother, would you like to make a wager?" I almost smiled at him.
"What might that wager be, Visenya?" He asked, looking genuinely curious.
"That I will conquer the Vale before you have handled Harren." I idly tugged at my braid, a warmth spreading from my chest. A smile threatening to show.
"Oh? What do you seek as a prize for winning, I wonder?" He asked, smiling ever so slightly. Looking less serious than I'd seen him all day. His purple-eyes seemed almost pleasant to me.
"Hopefully a child, nephew. After all, you are without an heir of your body." Came again the voice of the man I liked least on this island, and I was reminded of that fact again. A marriage I do not want. I want you, love. Why? Why now that I have what I wanted, can we not be together?
I almost did not notice the sensation of a light yet somehow familiar feeling set of lips brushing against my own.
Almost.
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The skies were clear as I made my way past the gates of the keep with the first slivers of early dawn just behind me, barely even taking notice of the armored guardsmen parting for me, dressed in the new Targaryen livery Aegon's idea I remembered and my heart raced for a moment before I breathed deeply to put it under control. Ingrained memory being my guide through the large stronghold, I made my way to the Stone Drum.
I enjoyed Dragonstone. Or, rather, I enjoyed the quiet and peace of the keep whilst my brother and sister were away. I suspected that wouldn't be much longer as we had planned to return today anyway. I would enjoy what little time I had away from them regardless.
After the night before I didn't want to be anywhere near him. My hand gripped at Dark Sister's sheath, I wished I'd had her the night before. I would have been safe.
With every step through the castle of my ancestors I found I had some fondness for the dragon stonework all over the damn place, the imagery of dragons and cities from the old Valyrian mainland on mosaics and ceiling domes wrought by sorcery centuries before m- Visenya's birth. Memories came to me of columns of both sorcery shaped stone and similar though marble-clad columns in the great hall itself which boasted the highest ceilings and bright murals and friezes made in the Freehold itself. I loved it all even though I still thought it gaudy and tacky. It was comforting from familiarity alone. I knew this place. It was home. It was safe. Rounding up servants was fairly easy, and I had them prepare a bath. I needed one badly. Who cared if I might have barked orders at them like an agitated dog? I needed to be clean, and it did not take all that long for me to be cleaned.
Even if it took a fair deal longer for me to feel that way. I ensured Dark Sister was always close.
Clad in light clothing and padded gambeson, my silvery hair braided, I made my way to the practice yard itself, Dark Sister sheathed at my hip. Some men were already practicing, most of them men-at-arms but another I knew and greeted me with a smile.
"Welcome home, sister." A faint amusement lit up the dark purple eyes of Orys Baratheon. His lips curled into a smile. His dark brown, nearly black hair shorn to the nape of his neck recently. He was of a height with me. Despite his hair, and his height being lesser to that of my trueborn brother, he was very handsome, though without the cruelly perfect features of our father. I could only see Aegon in his face.
I forced a smile, "Practice with me." I commanded, though he was Aegon's castellan at present and in name he was in charge of Dragonstone, he obeyed without complaint. I wish he had listened to me. My stomach lurched and I shook away the thought.
It wasn't remotely fair. I was his liege lord's wife, and a more talented warrior besides. We sparred and practiced for what felt to me like all day, but really only lasted until late morning. I felt great, though he was going to have bruises, part of me knew without looking. I struck harder than I should have, and he did not complain even once. Though he was clearly not happy about it, I noticed as we left the yard. I tried not to look at his face as I placed a hand on his shoulder while we walked to what I assumed would be the great hall.
"I am sorry. I should not have struck you so." I truly was sorry. He had done nothing wrong. It wasn't his fault he looked like him. I shouldn't have let it out on you.
He laughed it off, "Don't worry. We've all been of an ill-temper since the Archon left. We are soon to leave for war, after all and yet all we do is sit and wait. Many are eager to earn lands of their own. Compared to Lord Qoherys, you are not so bad." At that last he grimaced.
Quenton Qoherys. Aegon's sworn sword, and companion since the conflict in Volantis that brought down the aspirations it held for being the new Valyria. He'd lost his family to the infighting among the Volantene Old Blood in the leadup to the last coalition against Volantis. His family had been Elephants that opposed the dominant Tigers. I felt some pity for him, the man was only two and th- thirty-two and had lost his brothers and sisters and parents and most of his extended family. Only two sons yet lived, and he narrowly escaped death himself. He'd stayed at Dragonstone ever since, sworn to the Archon.
"I suppose him wanting land is only natural. I wouldn't want to be leeching off the table and coffers of another forever either." I laughed, despite nothing even being that funny. He laughed too. Though neither of us spoke after. My eyes found the decorations on several columns, and I considered them beautiful in their own right. Dragon motif or no, the detail was exquisite and I found my gaze flitting from wall to wall as I took in the sights.
This continued until we parted at the great hall itself. I'd wanted to laugh at the fact the whole damn thing was shaped like a resting dragon. With the entranceway being a maw, teeth and all. I knew it was, certainly. But another set of eyes, my true eyes, felt it as a fresh experience. Not too long afterwards I'd returned to what felt to both parts of me as a sanctuary. My own chambers, a place where I could close the world out. Sitting on the edge of a bed that I recognized from childhood. Not yours.
A place to think.
And so I did.
I had Dark Sister almost drawn by instinct before remembering who it was, even then my hand rested on her hilt. Idly, I noticed the late morning sky had given way to the early afternoon.
Rhaenys' hands were raised in what I guessed was a gesture meant to reassure me that she had nothing on her. I mentally kicked myself. She didn't deserve that. It's not her fault.
"'Senya, there is no one here but us. I promise. I had the guards sent away. I did not even bring Alarra." Her favorite maidservant, from what I recalled. "I just want to talk."
I looked down at my hands.
"You lied, sister." Those words hit me harder than I thought they might. She is her sister, not yours.
"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about?" The words sounded lame and half-assed even to me as I actually looked at her. She was today wearing her riding outfit rather than the scarlet dress from yesterday. Her hair done up in a loose ponytail.
She only sighed, only making me feel like I'd done something wrong,"You said you learned of the Braavosi making some pact with the Arryns. From… sailors, here."
"I did." I forced the words out.
She laughed incredulously, "Was it before or after we spent our time together speaking with the port authorities? Or mayhap when we spoke to that cloth merchant from Leng? 'Senya, I was with you. We did not speak to any sailors! Why did you lie about this? What is wrong with you of late? You have barely spoken to anyone for days! And when I come to find out what is wrong you draw your sword on me!" Her words had me hiding my face in my hands, trying to think of something. I did not imagine telling her Dark Sister did not actually leave her sheath would help.
I bit my lip and looked up, "I am sorry for lying, but the means by which I learned did not involve any wagging of tongues, and I have known for longer than a few days."
"How?" Her voice came out less frustrated now, and more curious. I frowned, not sure how I was going to phrase it.
"I…" Her lilac eyes seemed to bore into me, I breathed in and out, "A dream." I tried to find the words, "It was revealed to me in a dream. Not a normal dream, I swear it. I know it was true. I saw it. I saw you in the Stormlands too. Both you and Orys. You fought on muddy ground during a storm, the Storm King leading his banners against you near his own lands. Orys was wounded, Meraxes grounded in the storm. Our uncle was slain at Gulltown in battle." I sighed.
"You swear that this dream… that you saw what you believe are events to come?" Her voice was softer now as she sat beside me, her hand on my shoulder was gentle yet firm. It was a surprise when she brought me in for a fairly firm hug. She's not your sister. For the first time in several days I shut that voice in my head out and simply returned the hug.
I half-smiled, nodding, "If we keep to the present course, certainly. I would recommend you slow your march slightly. The storm in my dream did not seem the kind that would have lasted longer than a day." I explained. As well, the Last Storm made the battle difficult for the Targaryens as best I recalled. The muddy ground hindering their men.
I continued explaining.
"As for me? When we've secured the Blackwater Bay, I will take the Vale without need for a single battle. Our uncle need not be involved."
"Oh? And how do you plan to accomplish that?" She seemed to tease me, I idly touched my braid.
My lips curled into a smile, "I'll show the Arryns that their vaunted fortress, their Eyrie, is little more than a gilded cage."
The room went quiet as Rhaenys' face went from incredulous to thoughtful. She seemed as though she were about to say something but then shook her head.
She broke the silence of the past minute.
"Did you have any other dreams?" She asked, her voice clear and soothing.
I frowned, "Only the normal kind." We walked hand in hand, love. He had teased me and I him, and when I woke the pain seemingly healed in the dream had returned and with greater intensity. Even the memory of the dream made me smile, so long as I kept it from ending. For a moment the stone room became a beach with pink sand, blue skies and bluer water. Memory was shattered by noise.
"Then… I will consider what you have told me." I supposed that was all I would get from her as she got up to leave. "But to be frank, sister, you look horrid. You need sleep."
I felt a weight lift from my shoulders at that. "Thank you."
Then she paused and glanced back with a pained smile. "Do not think I have forgotten the matter of your odd behavior, sister. We shall speak of it after you have gotten some sleep."
I could only grimace as she left. I hadn't slept more than an hour in the past thirty.
For the rest of the day I tried to clear her last words from my mind and return to that sunlit beach until sleep claimed me.
All I could think of were her words.
Author's Note: I probably won't update super often but what can ya do. Feedback is welcome.
Author's note 2: I was told I should post it here so I am.
Chapter One: Dinners and Dragons(tone)
Part of me loved this dinner, the colors on display and the brighter atmosphere helping lift the gloom of the previous days from my shoulders. Rhaenys had insisted I attend, and I was sincerely glad she had. Despite being forced to dress up for it. Being in this solar brought to mind memories of better times in childhood. Mother had sung and played the harp for father, and for us.
Not yours. I ignored the thought.
"Sister, what do you think?" Came the voice of Aegon. Acting as if nothing was amiss. As if nothing had changed. I had hoped… I squashed that line of thought.
Taking a breath, I looked at my brother, save for his face. He wore a long black silk tunic with flame embroidery at the edges, it went down to his knees, and his legs were covered with red trousers. He wore a new mantle, I'd noticed. Rich and heavy black silk trimmed with gold thread and the inside lined with crimson silk. The same color as the three-headed dragon sewn onto the front of his black mantle. The mantle was held together at his shoulder by a double-clasp shaped like dragon heads.
"I told you before; Argilac won't accept those terms, friend from the war or no. At least try to avoid asking for lands that are already his, if you want to have any chance of his acceptance." I replied, keeping my breathing steady as I continued, "Orys, in the eyes of the Westerosi is a baseborn bastard with neither land nor title. He will be insulted beyond belief if you suggest this match for his daughter."
I wanted to scream at him.
He laughed, waving his hand as if my concerns were nothing. "Visenya, I am merely setting my bargain high so that we may come to a better agreement. Think about it, Orys will gain a wife and I a kingdom without needing to fight Argilac! Then with time Orys will be king, then a lord when he swears himself to me. I have read my Westerosi histories, our Orys will be a new Joffrey Lydden."
From his position sitting to Aegon's left, Orys looked to be forcing a smile, "I am honored that you would seek so high a marriage for me, Archon." Aegon clapped him on the back.
"What have I told you, Orys? We are brothers, do not call me by title when we eat together."
"As you command, my Archon." He said the last with a grin, unable to contain himself any longer.
Aegon punched his shoulder and started talking about how they will handle the next round of negotiations that were sure to come. Stupid man.
I had to reject another temptation to pour a glass of wine. Though it was a far cry from the chilled and flavored water I was used to, I still preferred to drink water. Better bland and tasteless than to risk being loose-lipped, after all.
Picking at my food, mostly bread and some form of fish prepared and seasoned rather well, I became aware of Rhaenys' eye on me from where I was sitting beside her.
Rhaenys' dress was a rich scarlet silk brocade with raised gold thread and fine scrollwork. Worn over a heavily embroidered silk tunic that was trimmed with more gold thread and adorned with garnets. Geometric shapes decorated the edges of the long sleeves and cuffs and the vertical stripes leading down from the shoulders. Even the few dragon shapes were mostly kept to the hem on the dress proper all came together to look actually… fairly decent. Especially with her hair done up as it was. She would look finer in lavender and silver, I think. I half-smiled at her, then looked at the sleeve of my own attire, two-layered rather than three and not so elaborate though still just as finely-made as what she wore.
Save for my cloak, which was purple and edged in gold, and my shoes which were ash-gray. My attire was black and red, colors that according to what family folklore said we'd used since the days of Torgas the Strong. A worker of bronze that tamed the dragon Cyaxares and sired several children who would go on to found their own houses in the time before the Freehold. When Old Ghis waxed and Valyria was wild and untamed and man struggled to survive in those lands.
What is her game? I frowned at Rhaenys' tunic. She normally never wore such when we dined as a group. The right to gold was reserved for the first spouse, and the head of the household. Rhaenys seemed pleased, if her face was any indication.
I glanced at the edging of my cloak, and then Aegon's mantle. I had no right to the gold either. A fake parading about in their sister's skin. A parasite. I stared at my food. A mix of roast lamb, marinated pork, fish and bread. This is the kind of thing you'd thought about, isn't it? Don't say some part of you didn't want it.
I frowned at the back of my hand. It was far easier when this was something I could just step back from or talk about with some folks as a hypothetical. Just stop talking about it and that would be that. Certainly, I liked that my feet were no longer fucked up. That I felt awake and human without needing to pop pills. If I had my way, I'd be with you as I am now. I smiled as I thought of seeing Crete beneath a bright sun and blue skies, of old ruins and museums and cats. Of dumb arguments over pointless things we both knew were pointless. I'm sorry I probably won't be there to read what you wrote, love. I'm sure it would have been great.
"'Senya, you are drifting again." I almost slapped the hand of Rhaenys when she touched my shoulder.
"Do not touch me." I barked without thinking. Drawing the attention of the two men at the table. I suppressed a shudder when I saw his purple eyes for the first time in days.
"This has to end." The clear, yet serious voice of Aegon was directed at me and I felt a chill run down my spine. What? Does he know? How? I regretted listening to Rhaenys. I needed Dark Sister. With her I might be able to stab him and get away. Get to Vhagar. Run.
I raised an eyebrow, not letting myself be baited into saying something incriminating.
"This.. rivalry you have with Rhaenys. Surely we are all too old for it. Rhaenys should not have to debase herself in order to keep from insulting you. She is your equal, not some mistress or secondary wife. Why must I play along with your inability to accept my decree, sister? It has been eight years. And on this night of all nights? It should be joyous, we should be celebrating Orys' wedding soon to come. Yet all you have done is sulk and brood."
What in G-d's name is he talking ab- and it hit me. Rhaenys' dress, the abundant gold thread and my frown. Fuck me. I wanted to tear his eyes out. I balled my fists hard enough that I was sure my knuckles had to be white. I stood up from the table, not bothering to dignify him with a response as I made my way to the door of the solar.
"Who do you have to mourn, sister, that you wear those shoes?" I froze up, seeing red. Who indeed! I felt the tears welling up. I kept my voice as calm as I could, my breathing even.
"Better men than you, brother." It hurt, so I laughed.
"Is that so?" He asked, sounding amused if anything. How dare he. I refused to look at any of them.
"You think this... my.. That my 'brooding' is about some… custom? About you? Of course. Why shouldn't it be about you? Everything is about you, is it not?! You greedy lecherous egotistical cunt!" I stormed out of the room, feeling pithy enough to swoosh my cloak as I left to return to the only decent place on the damned island.
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Dismissing guards in his livery, I entered my only sanctuary inside the keep and my bleary eyes were drawn to Dark Sister in her sheath. How long would it take? A few minutes or more?
"Dark Sister thirsts for blood, doesn't she?" I laughed, tears dripping. "She can have mine, then." A queasy feeling quickly put a stop to that line of thinking but the temptation was still there. So too was the sword still there, ruby in the guard catching the rays of sunset and blazing like fire.
With a shaking hand I removed the dragon-headed clasp from my cloak and threw it, a quick flash of gold as it passed through the air ending with the sound of metal colliding with stone that felt oh so satisfying to hear. The cloak itself I bundled up and threw over my shoulder.
Memories of a marriage ceremony, of pride at upholding family tradition came to my mind. Her damned memories. "I hate you, and your damn customs and this fucking cosmic joke. F-fuck all of you." I continued on, and paced about and ranted under my breath until everything was feeling a lot heavier.
It wasn't long before I'd stripped out of the damned dress and changed into something more comfortable.
I glanced out the window. Could I fly away? Just escape on Vhagar… go to Essos, live quietly and without these chains? Be who I want. I lied down on my bed, hair undone. It'd be nice. I drifted off with visions of travels in far off lands and a heavy heart. Home would be better...
The sweet smell mixed with other scents was the first thing I noticed, and then the rising moon. It's not that high in the sky yet My heart skipped a beat when I noticed a figure illuminated by candlelight. "Good, you are awake." Rhaenys stated, and got up to light several other candles.
I watched her as she practically glided across the floor and moved with a grace I could only dream of. Though she was no longer wearing the dress from before, she still wore the long scarlet tunic with its gold thread trim. Her shoes were the same red as her tunic. Gold trimmed clothes and red shoes. Is she mocking me?
"Please sit with me, sister." Her voice broke my train of thought and I went to sit down. When I did, it was fairly clear what she was doing. I looked down at where the smell from before had come from.
"You forgot to eat, 'Senya." Her voice sounded amused. Is she doing this for Aegon? Did he put her up to it?
The bronze tray held peas, fish, fruit and a pastry that had my mouth watering. Held together with some kind of honey-smelling syrup, and filled with chopped hazelnuts and cloves. It smelled amazing, and my stomach reminded me I hadn't eaten since the night before. Idly, I filled a cup with water from the pitcher beside the tray and drank.
"Thank you, Rhaenys." I forced a smile.
I wiped at my eyes, then prayed silently and began eating the food she'd brought. Slowly, but I did. I didn't know what to say to her. So I didn't try to make small talk.
"Who was he? You clearly loved him greatly." I felt my heart pound in my chest. What does she know? What did I say?! I wracked at my brain to try and remember. My vision narrowed to what was immediately in front of me.
"Your man on Driftmark, you need not hide it from me." Her voice was so self-assured and calm. Gentle too.
I fought the urge to laugh at the absurdity of what she said.
"I have no man save our husband, sister." I felt like I was going to throw up.
"Come now, those shoes you wore were for mourning. What you said to our brother, as well as how you have acted recently? It is obvious you found a man on Driftmark, and your marriage vows kept you from him." I wanted to throw a punch at her. My heart ached.
"You're wrong. Everything you just said is wrong." I stood up, but she gripped my arm. "Leave." I commanded.
"No. Not until you tell me what has you so in.. in a mood. Please, I want to help you." She only spoke in that damnably soft yet insistent tone.
"You can help me by leaving." I was taller than her, and stronger too. "If you don't, I'll make you." I gripped her other arm. Hard.
"You can't solve this with words, Rhaenys. Please, shut your fucking mouth and leave."
"'Senya, listen to m-" I squeezed her arm tightly. I wanted her to shut her damn mouth and keep her 'theories' to herself.
I got into her face, my purple eyes meeting her lilac. "Get. Out. Tell that to Aegon, that whatever he put you up to, he can shove it up his ass and fuck off." Why can't they leave me alone?!
She sighed, though her face looked more determined than defeated, there was hurt in her eyes however, "Fine." I slowly let go of her, and my heart sank as I watched her leave. I felt empty, and it hurt.
"I'm sorry." The words were barely more than a whisper, and I knew she couldn't hear them. I wanted to scream them and I couldn't.
I looked at the tray once more and a torrent of guilt raged in me. Why? Why did you do this, Rhaenys? I'd snapped at her and insulted our… her husband, and she decided to make sure I ate. I don't deserve this. Especially not now.
I slammed my fist against the table, sending a knife clattering to the floor. I wanted to scream at myself. All she did was try to help. It's not her fault that she can't know. My appetite was gone for the night.
All I could think of were her lilac eyes.
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My early day mostly went as they had usually gone. Practice to keep my skills sharp and to let me focus on something else for a couple hours at a time before leaving, then a bath. A new addition in the form of being reminded not to forget to eat by a serving girl Rhaenys had apparently appointed to the job the day before was certainly a surprise. Still, the keep was large enough, and our routines different enough that I didn't even have to see Rhaenys. Let alone speak with her. I wish I could stop thinking about last night. Shame and guilt mingled in my gut as I left with one of the men-at-arms of the keep to go visit the port.
We mounted palfreys, mine grey and his a rich chestnut and part of me felt excited as the last time I'd rode a horse was when I was fifteen. My heart ached for a moment at the reminder. I'm sorry, aunt, I won't get to come visit like I promised.
"I'll call you Rochiril." I muttered at the horse, a pleasant warmth blossomed in my chest for a moment, and I blushed slightly at the silliness of giving the horse that name.
We rode out from the shadow of the keep, and the Dragonmont itself. The mingling of brimstone and sea breeze creating a scent both pleasant and familiar, yet it was one that I found myself loathing at the same time. Aegon loved this scent best. I remembered from Fire and Blood, and I wished I hadn't. Why does he have to stain this too?
Dragonstone was certainly dreary under the shadow of the Dragonmont, but this time of year and in this season it was drier. Though not so warm and pleasant as Driftmark, it was nonetheless pretty. Half of me was familiar with it from the skies and on land, but the other half was still excited to ride around on an actual island. I had lived by a river, but only once in my life had I seen the ocean and even then only from high up and just for a short time. I wanted to squeal, I could hardly contain myself. Focus. I breathed in and out.
After passing through the outskirts of the town, fields of crops worked by farmers, it wasn't long before we were near the port of Dragonstone itself. I remembered it from several days before but back then I had arrived on dragonback with Rhaenys. Speaking to a few merchants as well as some lower authorities here, mostly just tariff collectors and those that inspected goods as we passed the time. The fisher folk worked bare chested, a fair few had Valyrian features and weathered skin. Did the fish at our table come from them?
Idly, I noted the presence of a number of cats at the town and outside of it. Many were lingering over near fishermen, and I noticed that some fishermen even gave fish to cats. Displays like those made me smile, and I had to restrain myself from dismounting and going off to pet one of the little fluffy cats.
Our port was nice enough, I supposed. With paved roads and a fair deal of stonework, as the town itself had started as an outgrowth of the Dragonstone outpost after the natives had been mostly driven off. The town was small, not really a match for that at Driftmark let alone any of the larger port towns in Westeros, and the great cities? Not even worth comparing. I remembered the colossal High Tower and the city it watched over. I will make a city to put that to shame. My mind's eye was filled with visions of white walls surrounding a city of wonders shining under a warm summer sun. I smiled. But first… I glanced toward the hill overlooking the port itself, and the limenarch's house, fortified residence really, atop the hill.
"We're to pay the limenarch of Dragonstone a visit." I said to no one in particular, and frowned when all I got was a nod. Having someone to talk to would be nice. I quashed the feelings that threatened to break through at that thought. It wouldn't do for me to seem frustrated over nothing. I set my horse to a canter. My silver hair whipped a bit in its loose ponytail as we approached the gate of the house itself.
"Bring out the Limenarch." I commanded the guards at the gate. While at first they asked who I was, once I gave my name they were quick to obey, and part of me loved that. It was not long before the limenarch was standing outside his own gate, looking up to me from the ground whilst I was still ahorse.
"Archontissa, your visit is unexpected. Have we displeased the Archon?" The limenarch tried to keep his voice steady, but even I could tell he was unnerved. Of fucking course he is. You show up out of nowhere just to sate your curiosity while he's just minding his business.
The limenarch's tunic was a fairly short cream-colored linen, with multicolored embroidery and no sleeves past his forearm. His mantle was dark and went nearly down to his feet. I could only see the barest hint of bright stockings from what little I could see of his legs. His shoes were well-made, but nothing special.
"No, I have merely come to inspect the port. Your wife is well, I hope?" He paled slightly, as it took me a few seconds to realize why. He must think I'm… oh fuck. I felt a tinge of warmth touch my cheeks.
I waved my gloved hand, "Fear not, I am not threatening your wife. I merely wished to ask after her well-being. Is she well?" I asked, trying to phrase this properly. Neither Visenya nor myself were really that great with people.
At that the man's features relaxed and he smiled broadly.
"She is indeed, just this past week a son was born to us. Named Aerion, for your father the late Archon." I narrowed my eyes almost reflexively at that. Bootlicker. I breathed in slightly. I am being unfair. The man did after all owe his position to my.. Her father. Though if he wished to gain any favor from Aegon for naming his son that… He did not care to wait for father's corpse to burn before he mounted Balerion, why should he care for the whelp of some civil official?
I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. "I asked after your wife, not for whether the child born to her was a son or a daughter." A girl. I want a girl. Dark haired like I used to be. Tall like her father. I wanted to cry, but gulped that down.
For fairly obvious reasons his previous enthusiasm and open joy dimmed, and I kicked myself mentally for it. It's not their fault. "She is well, certainly. She insists on feeding the child herself rather than letting me hire another to save her the toil." I frowned at that. Save her the toil? More likely that he wanted her to help him run the port, it was all but an open secret that she'd done most of the management since he was appointed to his post.
"Let her. It is important for a mother and child to bond, and breastfeeding will make them closer." I'd read that once in a novel, I didn't know if it was true but if his wife wished to take a break from helping him run the port then he shouldn't be trying to force her into it. "Still, I am glad to hear of your wife's continued good health. But we digress, I would like to hear of any recent developments here at port."
"Of course, Archontissa." He launched into an explanation of a mix of things I found genuinely interesting, such as the news that the port's incomes have experienced steady growth since the last Volantene conflict, and somewhat boring like the contents of certain foreign ships he found interesting. I asked more questions, even idle ones about things I wondered regarding port traffic. I relished all of it. It was a distraction that let me just slip into the feeling of being for a while. Indulge my curiosity with someone who didn't really know who I was supposed to be.
"I still need to make my inspection of the port itself, Limenarch Haeron. If you would be so kind as to show me around?" I interrupted once I'd felt that telltale feeling of too much time passing in conversation, and the comfort and novelty of the situation slipping into tedium. Haeron bowed and I felt that sense of satisfaction at someone practically jumping to listen to me.
He had servants escort his own horse out, a mottled courser that looked as though it had seen better days. With the noontide sun beating down on us despite the shadow cast by the Dragonmont my little three man party rode down to the town at a leisurely trot. It was not long before we had arrived once more at the port, and as the limenarch told me mostly things I wasn't interested in, I mostly tuned him out and enjoyed the feel of the breeze.
Pretending to be interested, I looked around at what seemed the right things to look at, and nodded and grunted agreement or disagreement when it seemed the right time. I barely know anything about this place. I realized. I could recall the layout of the island from the skies, and the town of Hull and even my memories of Oldtown from the skies were sharper than what I could remember about the port practically on the front door of Dragonstone. The recent visit with Rhaenys had been the first in years. Christ, if people can't pay attention to what's on their doorstep no fucking wonder the Seven Kingdoms are a damn mess.
Realizing I'd drifted off, I cleared my throat and felt a surge of joy as Haeron snapped to attention.
"Show me to where you do your record keeping here at port. I should like to have a look at it myself, we can not have you hiding an entire smuggling ring from the Archon after all." That had him paling and stammering denials, and me half in stitches as I laughed. "I jest!" I told him, getting myself calmed again and stopping laughing.
"Still, I would like to inspect it, Limenarch." I stated fairly bluntly. I needed to know what needed changing, if anything. If not... It'd help kill time if nothing else.
He bowed deeply and led me to what I assumed was the main office of the port itself. A sturdy enough building, one floor and made of brick and mortar. I entered, my hand on Dark Sister's hilt the entire time. It was comforting to have her in my hand.
Haeron led me through a… well, I didn't want to throw stones but the building was a damn mess. Fuck, is this what paperwork is like when you can't just store information on a computer? Part of me doubted that it needed to be as messy as it was.
"Just give me everything from the past month, Haeron." I wanted to sit down and read through, and was gladdened by his haste to ensure I had what I wanted. Soon enough I was reading over the paperwork, nestled in a corner of the building normally reserved for the limenarch himself.
"You can stop hovering over me, Haeron. Wait out of my sight, but stay in sight of my guardsman." I casually dismissed the man, comfortably reading a month's worth of shipping manifests. The handwriting of a dozen different men, some more easily read than others, was over all easy to parse.
Most of it was boring. Just… inventories, the names of captains, important crew on each ship and the cargo of each ship. Sure, there was interesting stuff here and there. Two slaves part of the "cargo" of a Myrish ship, olive oil from Driftmark, blood oranges from Dorne, and… I blinked. Not sure I'd read it right. The name of the ship on the documents listing the ships that had departed was different from the name it was stated to have in the original manifest. Not just in a typo sense, but a name that I'd seen twice before on the papers. Used for different ships. Not only that, but several times cog and galleon had been used as different descriptions for the same ships.
I had been joking about a smuggling ring, but this was triggering my paranoia something fierce. I needed proof. More proof. I needed someone else to look at this. Maybe I'm misreading all this. I stood up from my seat and marched out the room only to see Haeron going from nervous to practically terrified at my expression.
"Thank you for your assistance, Limenarch." I forced a slight upward curl of my lips, I hoped it looked like a smile.
"O-of course, Archontissa. Have we met the standards the Archon expects?" He looked near to pissing himself.
I tilted my head, then shrugged. "For now."
"I am glad to have been of assistance to the Archon. I also offer the hospitality of my home for supper if you should desire to speak further." He seemed to say the last by reflex, a common courtesy.
"I think I will take you up on that offer, Haeron. Tonight!" I didn't even need to think, it kept me from Aegon. I wouldn't have to face Rhaenys so soon.
Haeron looked stunned. I barely registered his voice as he stammered in my direction while I and my guardsman left.
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The breeze had picked up since I'd gone into the office, and by the look of the skies the early afternoon skies had given way to late-mid afternoon. While the shadow cast by the Dragonmont was still overwhelming, I could not deny that were I still my old self this day would definitely be one I considered hot. Probably around eighty degrees at present. Now it felt natural, and even comfortable. Small blessings. I laughed to myself.
Looking out over the port, I noticed there were fewer men out now than before. I assumed most went inside, save for some few fishermen and merchants. But what caught my eye most was the group of men who had clearly disembarked from a ship flying the banner of the Velaryons. At the head of them a tall man speaking to an official for what I assumed was paperwork related reasons. For a moment I had feared my uncle had come to Dragonstone. An heir of your own body, nephew.
Calm yourself! I breathed deeply, and calmly as I told my guard to ride back to Dragonstone. He of course obeyed the command of his Archontissa.
Steadily, I guided my palfrey, my Rochiril, over to the party. On you, Rochiril, he must look up at me. I rested a hand on Dark Sister.
The face that I saw when the tall man turned his attention to me had my heart racing again. Until I pushed my nervousness down.
"Ser Corlys, it has been some time." I greeted him.
Corlys had the good looks one would expect from Valyrians, and unlike his elder brother was untouched by any real resemblance to Aegon. He looked much like my uncle. Just as tall, maybe taller. As well, he was softer facially than Aegon. Softer than his father too. His eyes were a pale blue. Like mother and grandfather. His attire was simple enough. A sea-blue tunic going to below his knees, with silver thread embroidery on the hem and arms and a darker blue sash around his waist.. A grey cloak over him held by a silver sea-horse clasp set with sapphire eyes. His boots were a washed-out black, and stained with sea salt. On his head was set a hat of blue felt, embossed with white thread in the Arbor style. His hands were covered with worn black gloves, decorated with fine stitching.
"It has indeed, Cousin Visenya." He replied warmly.
"What brings you to Dragonstone?"
"I have returned from the patrol my father set me to. It should please him to know that there were no pirates in our waters that I had been able to find." He chuckled.
"That does not answer my question. Why come to Dragonstone? Should you not be returning to Driftmark with haste?" I wanted to kick myself when I saw him frown. I didn't mean… "I am curious, cousin. It is not that I wish you gone." I do though. I felt bad, it was not his fault he resembled his father.
"It is soon to be night, and I hoped to have the hospitality of my kin at Dragonstone. I have been at sea for nigh on a month, Visenya."
"If it is food you wish for, then I will be dining at the home of the Limenarch tonight and I would like it if you did as well."
He waved his hand, in a manner that reminded me far too much of Daemon. "I wish to dine with all my cousins, not only one of them and an upjumped scribe. If you will excuse me, Visenya." He started to walk off with his men. I felt anger boil up in me, and I shoved it down as I spoke up.
"Cousin, I would like to set up a game of Four Corners. I would like it if you would invite Rhaenys, and if you would join us." I practically made the request a command. I would not be ignored.
He laughed. "Of course, Archontissa!"
I sighed, looking up to the hill, and the house where I would be supping tonight.
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Not yours. I ignored the thought.
"Sister, what do you think?" Came the voice of Aegon. Acting as if nothing was amiss. As if nothing had changed. I had hoped… I squashed that line of thought.
Taking a breath, I looked at my brother, save for his face. He wore a long black silk tunic with flame embroidery at the edges, it went down to his knees, and his legs were covered with red trousers. He wore a new mantle, I'd noticed. Rich and heavy black silk trimmed with gold thread and the inside lined with crimson silk. The same color as the three-headed dragon sewn onto the front of his black mantle. The mantle was held together at his shoulder by a double-clasp shaped like dragon heads.
"I told you before; Argilac won't accept those terms, friend from the war or no. At least try to avoid asking for lands that are already his, if you want to have any chance of his acceptance." I replied, keeping my breathing steady as I continued, "Orys, in the eyes of the Westerosi is a baseborn bastard with neither land nor title. He will be insulted beyond belief if you suggest this match for his daughter."
I wanted to scream at him.
He laughed, waving his hand as if my concerns were nothing. "Visenya, I am merely setting my bargain high so that we may come to a better agreement. Think about it, Orys will gain a wife and I a kingdom without needing to fight Argilac! Then with time Orys will be king, then a lord when he swears himself to me. I have read my Westerosi histories, our Orys will be a new Joffrey Lydden."
From his position sitting to Aegon's left, Orys looked to be forcing a smile, "I am honored that you would seek so high a marriage for me, Archon." Aegon clapped him on the back.
"What have I told you, Orys? We are brothers, do not call me by title when we eat together."
"As you command, my Archon." He said the last with a grin, unable to contain himself any longer.
Aegon punched his shoulder and started talking about how they will handle the next round of negotiations that were sure to come. Stupid man.
I had to reject another temptation to pour a glass of wine. Though it was a far cry from the chilled and flavored water I was used to, I still preferred to drink water. Better bland and tasteless than to risk being loose-lipped, after all.
Picking at my food, mostly bread and some form of fish prepared and seasoned rather well, I became aware of Rhaenys' eye on me from where I was sitting beside her.
Rhaenys' dress was a rich scarlet silk brocade with raised gold thread and fine scrollwork. Worn over a heavily embroidered silk tunic that was trimmed with more gold thread and adorned with garnets. Geometric shapes decorated the edges of the long sleeves and cuffs and the vertical stripes leading down from the shoulders. Even the few dragon shapes were mostly kept to the hem on the dress proper all came together to look actually… fairly decent. Especially with her hair done up as it was. She would look finer in lavender and silver, I think. I half-smiled at her, then looked at the sleeve of my own attire, two-layered rather than three and not so elaborate though still just as finely-made as what she wore.
Save for my cloak, which was purple and edged in gold, and my shoes which were ash-gray. My attire was black and red, colors that according to what family folklore said we'd used since the days of Torgas the Strong. A worker of bronze that tamed the dragon Cyaxares and sired several children who would go on to found their own houses in the time before the Freehold. When Old Ghis waxed and Valyria was wild and untamed and man struggled to survive in those lands.
What is her game? I frowned at Rhaenys' tunic. She normally never wore such when we dined as a group. The right to gold was reserved for the first spouse, and the head of the household. Rhaenys seemed pleased, if her face was any indication.
I glanced at the edging of my cloak, and then Aegon's mantle. I had no right to the gold either. A fake parading about in their sister's skin. A parasite. I stared at my food. A mix of roast lamb, marinated pork, fish and bread. This is the kind of thing you'd thought about, isn't it? Don't say some part of you didn't want it.
I frowned at the back of my hand. It was far easier when this was something I could just step back from or talk about with some folks as a hypothetical. Just stop talking about it and that would be that. Certainly, I liked that my feet were no longer fucked up. That I felt awake and human without needing to pop pills. If I had my way, I'd be with you as I am now. I smiled as I thought of seeing Crete beneath a bright sun and blue skies, of old ruins and museums and cats. Of dumb arguments over pointless things we both knew were pointless. I'm sorry I probably won't be there to read what you wrote, love. I'm sure it would have been great.
"'Senya, you are drifting again." I almost slapped the hand of Rhaenys when she touched my shoulder.
"Do not touch me." I barked without thinking. Drawing the attention of the two men at the table. I suppressed a shudder when I saw his purple eyes for the first time in days.
"This has to end." The clear, yet serious voice of Aegon was directed at me and I felt a chill run down my spine. What? Does he know? How? I regretted listening to Rhaenys. I needed Dark Sister. With her I might be able to stab him and get away. Get to Vhagar. Run.
I raised an eyebrow, not letting myself be baited into saying something incriminating.
"This.. rivalry you have with Rhaenys. Surely we are all too old for it. Rhaenys should not have to debase herself in order to keep from insulting you. She is your equal, not some mistress or secondary wife. Why must I play along with your inability to accept my decree, sister? It has been eight years. And on this night of all nights? It should be joyous, we should be celebrating Orys' wedding soon to come. Yet all you have done is sulk and brood."
What in G-d's name is he talking ab- and it hit me. Rhaenys' dress, the abundant gold thread and my frown. Fuck me. I wanted to tear his eyes out. I balled my fists hard enough that I was sure my knuckles had to be white. I stood up from the table, not bothering to dignify him with a response as I made my way to the door of the solar.
"Who do you have to mourn, sister, that you wear those shoes?" I froze up, seeing red. Who indeed! I felt the tears welling up. I kept my voice as calm as I could, my breathing even.
"Better men than you, brother." It hurt, so I laughed.
"Is that so?" He asked, sounding amused if anything. How dare he. I refused to look at any of them.
"You think this... my.. That my 'brooding' is about some… custom? About you? Of course. Why shouldn't it be about you? Everything is about you, is it not?! You greedy lecherous egotistical cunt!" I stormed out of the room, feeling pithy enough to swoosh my cloak as I left to return to the only decent place on the damned island.
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Dismissing guards in his livery, I entered my only sanctuary inside the keep and my bleary eyes were drawn to Dark Sister in her sheath. How long would it take? A few minutes or more?
"Dark Sister thirsts for blood, doesn't she?" I laughed, tears dripping. "She can have mine, then." A queasy feeling quickly put a stop to that line of thinking but the temptation was still there. So too was the sword still there, ruby in the guard catching the rays of sunset and blazing like fire.
With a shaking hand I removed the dragon-headed clasp from my cloak and threw it, a quick flash of gold as it passed through the air ending with the sound of metal colliding with stone that felt oh so satisfying to hear. The cloak itself I bundled up and threw over my shoulder.
Memories of a marriage ceremony, of pride at upholding family tradition came to my mind. Her damned memories. "I hate you, and your damn customs and this fucking cosmic joke. F-fuck all of you." I continued on, and paced about and ranted under my breath until everything was feeling a lot heavier.
It wasn't long before I'd stripped out of the damned dress and changed into something more comfortable.
I glanced out the window. Could I fly away? Just escape on Vhagar… go to Essos, live quietly and without these chains? Be who I want. I lied down on my bed, hair undone. It'd be nice. I drifted off with visions of travels in far off lands and a heavy heart. Home would be better...
The sweet smell mixed with other scents was the first thing I noticed, and then the rising moon. It's not that high in the sky yet My heart skipped a beat when I noticed a figure illuminated by candlelight. "Good, you are awake." Rhaenys stated, and got up to light several other candles.
I watched her as she practically glided across the floor and moved with a grace I could only dream of. Though she was no longer wearing the dress from before, she still wore the long scarlet tunic with its gold thread trim. Her shoes were the same red as her tunic. Gold trimmed clothes and red shoes. Is she mocking me?
"Please sit with me, sister." Her voice broke my train of thought and I went to sit down. When I did, it was fairly clear what she was doing. I looked down at where the smell from before had come from.
"You forgot to eat, 'Senya." Her voice sounded amused. Is she doing this for Aegon? Did he put her up to it?
The bronze tray held peas, fish, fruit and a pastry that had my mouth watering. Held together with some kind of honey-smelling syrup, and filled with chopped hazelnuts and cloves. It smelled amazing, and my stomach reminded me I hadn't eaten since the night before. Idly, I filled a cup with water from the pitcher beside the tray and drank.
"Thank you, Rhaenys." I forced a smile.
I wiped at my eyes, then prayed silently and began eating the food she'd brought. Slowly, but I did. I didn't know what to say to her. So I didn't try to make small talk.
"Who was he? You clearly loved him greatly." I felt my heart pound in my chest. What does she know? What did I say?! I wracked at my brain to try and remember. My vision narrowed to what was immediately in front of me.
"Your man on Driftmark, you need not hide it from me." Her voice was so self-assured and calm. Gentle too.
I fought the urge to laugh at the absurdity of what she said.
"I have no man save our husband, sister." I felt like I was going to throw up.
"Come now, those shoes you wore were for mourning. What you said to our brother, as well as how you have acted recently? It is obvious you found a man on Driftmark, and your marriage vows kept you from him." I wanted to throw a punch at her. My heart ached.
"You're wrong. Everything you just said is wrong." I stood up, but she gripped my arm. "Leave." I commanded.
"No. Not until you tell me what has you so in.. in a mood. Please, I want to help you." She only spoke in that damnably soft yet insistent tone.
"You can help me by leaving." I was taller than her, and stronger too. "If you don't, I'll make you." I gripped her other arm. Hard.
"You can't solve this with words, Rhaenys. Please, shut your fucking mouth and leave."
"'Senya, listen to m-" I squeezed her arm tightly. I wanted her to shut her damn mouth and keep her 'theories' to herself.
I got into her face, my purple eyes meeting her lilac. "Get. Out. Tell that to Aegon, that whatever he put you up to, he can shove it up his ass and fuck off." Why can't they leave me alone?!
She sighed, though her face looked more determined than defeated, there was hurt in her eyes however, "Fine." I slowly let go of her, and my heart sank as I watched her leave. I felt empty, and it hurt.
"I'm sorry." The words were barely more than a whisper, and I knew she couldn't hear them. I wanted to scream them and I couldn't.
I looked at the tray once more and a torrent of guilt raged in me. Why? Why did you do this, Rhaenys? I'd snapped at her and insulted our… her husband, and she decided to make sure I ate. I don't deserve this. Especially not now.
I slammed my fist against the table, sending a knife clattering to the floor. I wanted to scream at myself. All she did was try to help. It's not her fault that she can't know. My appetite was gone for the night.
All I could think of were her lilac eyes.
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My early day mostly went as they had usually gone. Practice to keep my skills sharp and to let me focus on something else for a couple hours at a time before leaving, then a bath. A new addition in the form of being reminded not to forget to eat by a serving girl Rhaenys had apparently appointed to the job the day before was certainly a surprise. Still, the keep was large enough, and our routines different enough that I didn't even have to see Rhaenys. Let alone speak with her. I wish I could stop thinking about last night. Shame and guilt mingled in my gut as I left with one of the men-at-arms of the keep to go visit the port.
We mounted palfreys, mine grey and his a rich chestnut and part of me felt excited as the last time I'd rode a horse was when I was fifteen. My heart ached for a moment at the reminder. I'm sorry, aunt, I won't get to come visit like I promised.
"I'll call you Rochiril." I muttered at the horse, a pleasant warmth blossomed in my chest for a moment, and I blushed slightly at the silliness of giving the horse that name.
We rode out from the shadow of the keep, and the Dragonmont itself. The mingling of brimstone and sea breeze creating a scent both pleasant and familiar, yet it was one that I found myself loathing at the same time. Aegon loved this scent best. I remembered from Fire and Blood, and I wished I hadn't. Why does he have to stain this too?
Dragonstone was certainly dreary under the shadow of the Dragonmont, but this time of year and in this season it was drier. Though not so warm and pleasant as Driftmark, it was nonetheless pretty. Half of me was familiar with it from the skies and on land, but the other half was still excited to ride around on an actual island. I had lived by a river, but only once in my life had I seen the ocean and even then only from high up and just for a short time. I wanted to squeal, I could hardly contain myself. Focus. I breathed in and out.
After passing through the outskirts of the town, fields of crops worked by farmers, it wasn't long before we were near the port of Dragonstone itself. I remembered it from several days before but back then I had arrived on dragonback with Rhaenys. Speaking to a few merchants as well as some lower authorities here, mostly just tariff collectors and those that inspected goods as we passed the time. The fisher folk worked bare chested, a fair few had Valyrian features and weathered skin. Did the fish at our table come from them?
Idly, I noted the presence of a number of cats at the town and outside of it. Many were lingering over near fishermen, and I noticed that some fishermen even gave fish to cats. Displays like those made me smile, and I had to restrain myself from dismounting and going off to pet one of the little fluffy cats.
Our port was nice enough, I supposed. With paved roads and a fair deal of stonework, as the town itself had started as an outgrowth of the Dragonstone outpost after the natives had been mostly driven off. The town was small, not really a match for that at Driftmark let alone any of the larger port towns in Westeros, and the great cities? Not even worth comparing. I remembered the colossal High Tower and the city it watched over. I will make a city to put that to shame. My mind's eye was filled with visions of white walls surrounding a city of wonders shining under a warm summer sun. I smiled. But first… I glanced toward the hill overlooking the port itself, and the limenarch's house, fortified residence really, atop the hill.
"We're to pay the limenarch of Dragonstone a visit." I said to no one in particular, and frowned when all I got was a nod. Having someone to talk to would be nice. I quashed the feelings that threatened to break through at that thought. It wouldn't do for me to seem frustrated over nothing. I set my horse to a canter. My silver hair whipped a bit in its loose ponytail as we approached the gate of the house itself.
"Bring out the Limenarch." I commanded the guards at the gate. While at first they asked who I was, once I gave my name they were quick to obey, and part of me loved that. It was not long before the limenarch was standing outside his own gate, looking up to me from the ground whilst I was still ahorse.
"Archontissa, your visit is unexpected. Have we displeased the Archon?" The limenarch tried to keep his voice steady, but even I could tell he was unnerved. Of fucking course he is. You show up out of nowhere just to sate your curiosity while he's just minding his business.
The limenarch's tunic was a fairly short cream-colored linen, with multicolored embroidery and no sleeves past his forearm. His mantle was dark and went nearly down to his feet. I could only see the barest hint of bright stockings from what little I could see of his legs. His shoes were well-made, but nothing special.
"No, I have merely come to inspect the port. Your wife is well, I hope?" He paled slightly, as it took me a few seconds to realize why. He must think I'm… oh fuck. I felt a tinge of warmth touch my cheeks.
I waved my gloved hand, "Fear not, I am not threatening your wife. I merely wished to ask after her well-being. Is she well?" I asked, trying to phrase this properly. Neither Visenya nor myself were really that great with people.
At that the man's features relaxed and he smiled broadly.
"She is indeed, just this past week a son was born to us. Named Aerion, for your father the late Archon." I narrowed my eyes almost reflexively at that. Bootlicker. I breathed in slightly. I am being unfair. The man did after all owe his position to my.. Her father. Though if he wished to gain any favor from Aegon for naming his son that… He did not care to wait for father's corpse to burn before he mounted Balerion, why should he care for the whelp of some civil official?
I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. "I asked after your wife, not for whether the child born to her was a son or a daughter." A girl. I want a girl. Dark haired like I used to be. Tall like her father. I wanted to cry, but gulped that down.
For fairly obvious reasons his previous enthusiasm and open joy dimmed, and I kicked myself mentally for it. It's not their fault. "She is well, certainly. She insists on feeding the child herself rather than letting me hire another to save her the toil." I frowned at that. Save her the toil? More likely that he wanted her to help him run the port, it was all but an open secret that she'd done most of the management since he was appointed to his post.
"Let her. It is important for a mother and child to bond, and breastfeeding will make them closer." I'd read that once in a novel, I didn't know if it was true but if his wife wished to take a break from helping him run the port then he shouldn't be trying to force her into it. "Still, I am glad to hear of your wife's continued good health. But we digress, I would like to hear of any recent developments here at port."
"Of course, Archontissa." He launched into an explanation of a mix of things I found genuinely interesting, such as the news that the port's incomes have experienced steady growth since the last Volantene conflict, and somewhat boring like the contents of certain foreign ships he found interesting. I asked more questions, even idle ones about things I wondered regarding port traffic. I relished all of it. It was a distraction that let me just slip into the feeling of being for a while. Indulge my curiosity with someone who didn't really know who I was supposed to be.
"I still need to make my inspection of the port itself, Limenarch Haeron. If you would be so kind as to show me around?" I interrupted once I'd felt that telltale feeling of too much time passing in conversation, and the comfort and novelty of the situation slipping into tedium. Haeron bowed and I felt that sense of satisfaction at someone practically jumping to listen to me.
He had servants escort his own horse out, a mottled courser that looked as though it had seen better days. With the noontide sun beating down on us despite the shadow cast by the Dragonmont my little three man party rode down to the town at a leisurely trot. It was not long before we had arrived once more at the port, and as the limenarch told me mostly things I wasn't interested in, I mostly tuned him out and enjoyed the feel of the breeze.
Pretending to be interested, I looked around at what seemed the right things to look at, and nodded and grunted agreement or disagreement when it seemed the right time. I barely know anything about this place. I realized. I could recall the layout of the island from the skies, and the town of Hull and even my memories of Oldtown from the skies were sharper than what I could remember about the port practically on the front door of Dragonstone. The recent visit with Rhaenys had been the first in years. Christ, if people can't pay attention to what's on their doorstep no fucking wonder the Seven Kingdoms are a damn mess.
Realizing I'd drifted off, I cleared my throat and felt a surge of joy as Haeron snapped to attention.
"Show me to where you do your record keeping here at port. I should like to have a look at it myself, we can not have you hiding an entire smuggling ring from the Archon after all." That had him paling and stammering denials, and me half in stitches as I laughed. "I jest!" I told him, getting myself calmed again and stopping laughing.
"Still, I would like to inspect it, Limenarch." I stated fairly bluntly. I needed to know what needed changing, if anything. If not... It'd help kill time if nothing else.
He bowed deeply and led me to what I assumed was the main office of the port itself. A sturdy enough building, one floor and made of brick and mortar. I entered, my hand on Dark Sister's hilt the entire time. It was comforting to have her in my hand.
Haeron led me through a… well, I didn't want to throw stones but the building was a damn mess. Fuck, is this what paperwork is like when you can't just store information on a computer? Part of me doubted that it needed to be as messy as it was.
"Just give me everything from the past month, Haeron." I wanted to sit down and read through, and was gladdened by his haste to ensure I had what I wanted. Soon enough I was reading over the paperwork, nestled in a corner of the building normally reserved for the limenarch himself.
"You can stop hovering over me, Haeron. Wait out of my sight, but stay in sight of my guardsman." I casually dismissed the man, comfortably reading a month's worth of shipping manifests. The handwriting of a dozen different men, some more easily read than others, was over all easy to parse.
Most of it was boring. Just… inventories, the names of captains, important crew on each ship and the cargo of each ship. Sure, there was interesting stuff here and there. Two slaves part of the "cargo" of a Myrish ship, olive oil from Driftmark, blood oranges from Dorne, and… I blinked. Not sure I'd read it right. The name of the ship on the documents listing the ships that had departed was different from the name it was stated to have in the original manifest. Not just in a typo sense, but a name that I'd seen twice before on the papers. Used for different ships. Not only that, but several times cog and galleon had been used as different descriptions for the same ships.
I had been joking about a smuggling ring, but this was triggering my paranoia something fierce. I needed proof. More proof. I needed someone else to look at this. Maybe I'm misreading all this. I stood up from my seat and marched out the room only to see Haeron going from nervous to practically terrified at my expression.
"Thank you for your assistance, Limenarch." I forced a slight upward curl of my lips, I hoped it looked like a smile.
"O-of course, Archontissa. Have we met the standards the Archon expects?" He looked near to pissing himself.
I tilted my head, then shrugged. "For now."
"I am glad to have been of assistance to the Archon. I also offer the hospitality of my home for supper if you should desire to speak further." He seemed to say the last by reflex, a common courtesy.
"I think I will take you up on that offer, Haeron. Tonight!" I didn't even need to think, it kept me from Aegon. I wouldn't have to face Rhaenys so soon.
Haeron looked stunned. I barely registered his voice as he stammered in my direction while I and my guardsman left.
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The breeze had picked up since I'd gone into the office, and by the look of the skies the early afternoon skies had given way to late-mid afternoon. While the shadow cast by the Dragonmont was still overwhelming, I could not deny that were I still my old self this day would definitely be one I considered hot. Probably around eighty degrees at present. Now it felt natural, and even comfortable. Small blessings. I laughed to myself.
Looking out over the port, I noticed there were fewer men out now than before. I assumed most went inside, save for some few fishermen and merchants. But what caught my eye most was the group of men who had clearly disembarked from a ship flying the banner of the Velaryons. At the head of them a tall man speaking to an official for what I assumed was paperwork related reasons. For a moment I had feared my uncle had come to Dragonstone. An heir of your own body, nephew.
Calm yourself! I breathed deeply, and calmly as I told my guard to ride back to Dragonstone. He of course obeyed the command of his Archontissa.
Steadily, I guided my palfrey, my Rochiril, over to the party. On you, Rochiril, he must look up at me. I rested a hand on Dark Sister.
The face that I saw when the tall man turned his attention to me had my heart racing again. Until I pushed my nervousness down.
"Ser Corlys, it has been some time." I greeted him.
Corlys had the good looks one would expect from Valyrians, and unlike his elder brother was untouched by any real resemblance to Aegon. He looked much like my uncle. Just as tall, maybe taller. As well, he was softer facially than Aegon. Softer than his father too. His eyes were a pale blue. Like mother and grandfather. His attire was simple enough. A sea-blue tunic going to below his knees, with silver thread embroidery on the hem and arms and a darker blue sash around his waist.. A grey cloak over him held by a silver sea-horse clasp set with sapphire eyes. His boots were a washed-out black, and stained with sea salt. On his head was set a hat of blue felt, embossed with white thread in the Arbor style. His hands were covered with worn black gloves, decorated with fine stitching.
"It has indeed, Cousin Visenya." He replied warmly.
"What brings you to Dragonstone?"
"I have returned from the patrol my father set me to. It should please him to know that there were no pirates in our waters that I had been able to find." He chuckled.
"That does not answer my question. Why come to Dragonstone? Should you not be returning to Driftmark with haste?" I wanted to kick myself when I saw him frown. I didn't mean… "I am curious, cousin. It is not that I wish you gone." I do though. I felt bad, it was not his fault he resembled his father.
"It is soon to be night, and I hoped to have the hospitality of my kin at Dragonstone. I have been at sea for nigh on a month, Visenya."
"If it is food you wish for, then I will be dining at the home of the Limenarch tonight and I would like it if you did as well."
He waved his hand, in a manner that reminded me far too much of Daemon. "I wish to dine with all my cousins, not only one of them and an upjumped scribe. If you will excuse me, Visenya." He started to walk off with his men. I felt anger boil up in me, and I shoved it down as I spoke up.
"Cousin, I would like to set up a game of Four Corners. I would like it if you would invite Rhaenys, and if you would join us." I practically made the request a command. I would not be ignored.
He laughed. "Of course, Archontissa!"
I sighed, looking up to the hill, and the house where I would be supping tonight.
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Chapter Two: Dinner, Games, and a Show
With the light of the setting sun at my back, my horse was led off to the stable as I arrived inside the residence of the Limenarch, passing the sturdy man-high stone walls and the gates of the outer walls to reach the small open-air courtyard of the home. A square courtyard with a painted statue of my father at its center. It was fine work, truly, but it could not compare to the true image of the man in life. A few inches taller than he was, too. I smiled wryly.
The courtyard, and indeed the dwelling in general, was lit by a series of lanterns and candles even now in the early evening. Illuminating the wall frescoes of the courtyard, a scene from legend, of the first dragonlord's life. His mother the moon, and his father a mortal man who earned her love by capturing the sun's light in a necklace. It was said their child's hair was touched with both sun and moon in equal measure, and it was he who ended the long night and sired the race of Valyrians. A cute tale, but most likely nothing else. Rhaenys always liked those stories when we were children. I clamped down on the guilt that surged within me and set that line of thought aside.
The floors were tile mosaics depicting wildlife scenes, and looking down I was reminded of my sandal covered feet baring my toes. I could have worn something more formal for footwear, but I wanted to let my feet breathe tonight and the sandals were well-made regardless. Besides, I was in riding clothes so it wasn't as if the sandals clashed that much. Who will chide me? Some upjumped coin counter and his wife? I snorted as I was led finally into the central room where the limenarch and his wife were waiting.
My eye was drawn to the altar, the household shrine itself. A silver star with seven points took the place where some figure or icon to one of the many gods of Valyria would have rested. Why does it feel so wrong to me? I shook the feeling off, that momentary distraction done and over with.
Haeron was dressed much as before, save for his shoes being finer and this time I caught the scent of perfumes that I assumed both he and his wife had for the occasion. "We welcome you to our home, Archontissa." I caught him glancing toward his wife. A woman of average height, with long and flowing flaxen-colored hair with green eyes. What caught my attention was her clothing, a dark robe with few embellishments save for a bright green banding around her waist with her mantle worn in a style that fastened about her waist and shoulder. I couldn't remember seeing the style before.
"I was born and raised in the Stormlands, Archontissa." She spoke for the first time, in a Valyrian that I could barely catch the hints of an accent in. Her voice was clear and composed. Am I so transparent? I composed myself, adopting as close to a neutral expression as I could manage.
"You are Westerosi, then." I said.
"I am as Westerosi as my husband, Archontissa. I am a woman of Dragonstone, and have been for years." She replied without hesitation.
I nodded, "Of course."
The silence stretched for almost ten seconds before the limenarch bowed deeply.
"Please, allow us to escort you. It is difficult to eat if we are not in the dining room." He weakly offered, and I just went with them. I was here to eat after all, not to awkwardly exchange words with his wife for the evening.
The dining area was simple enough, well-lit and neatly furnished with couches and a large center table. Painted walls depicting nature in the form of a scene involving herons in a reed marsh. The food was surprisingly similar to what I had the night before, mostly a mix of fish and other meats and green vegetables. Save for the corn. Actual cob corn. Seasoned shrimp and some hot dogs, that'd make it feel like home. Almost. My thoughts were interrupted by Haeron's voice.
"I am pleased that you accepted my invitation to dine with us tonight, Archontissa." Even I could tell that was a lie. "My sincerest apologies if the humble fare of my house is not up to your standards, had I more time I would have prepared something more worthy of you." Something in me hated the simpering, and I had to bite back harsh words and dismissed his concerns with a wave of my hand.
"You do not need to use titles with me tonight, Haeron. Call me Visenya." I forced a laugh.
"What is your name?" I asked the limenarch's wife.
Her reply felt like a slap to the face. I wasn't sure if I heard it right.
"Could you repeat that?" I kept my breathing controlled.
"Alesandra. I was named for my grandmother, Archontissa."
I strained to keep a polite smile on my face as it felt like she'd driven a knife into me. So close to… it's not fair! The meal continued mostly in silence, occasionally broken up by a small talk or another. Until we had finished, and dessert had come and gone. Fruit tarts and spiced cold meats, chilled with ice.
"What did you think of your meal, Archontissa?" His thin smile was nervous, as it had been throughout most of this dinner.
I felt a surge of rage boil up at his tiptoeing around me. I'd been polite and tried to be friendly, and yet he insisted on titles and acting as though I was going to rip his head off if he said one wrong word. You're not being fair to him.
"It is... " I waved the utensil very slightly in between my thumb and index finger, "I enjoyed the food, certainly. The conversation was better, though. What about you? Speak freely, I am a woman grown, not a girl with pride pricklier than a... " I snapped my fingers, trying to remember what the animal was. Hedgehog? What's the thing with quills. Fuck. "No matter, what I mean is that you won't offend me and I promise no harm will come from anything you say here."
"Archontissa, you swear it? I may speak freely with no fear of reprisal?" He asked nervously, and I simply nodded.
"If you wished you could run me through, Archontissa. You do not seem well-pleased with me, and have seemed on the cusp of a rage many times. I fear you, even as I accept that you dragonlords are as above me as a man is above the beasts of the field." I caught his wife frowning at that last part.
"I… see. Haeron, nothing you have done has upset me. I merely have greater things on my mind." Pitying yourself? Trying to play friend to people you don't even know? "I shall speak well of you to my brother-husband the Archon upon my return home." The words felt like bile.
His face lit up with something other than nervousness and fear for the first time this night, and it left a knot in my stomach. You're his lord's wife. Even with people she did not know, I couldn't escape that fact. I swallowed my sadness as customary farewells were given, and I refused an offer for escort back to Dragonstone keep.
With the silvery light of the crescent moon bearing down on me I rode back… back home. For that is what Dragonstone was now. I had not woken up, I had lived every day a life that felt as real as that which I had lived before. There was no going back, no matter how much I wanted it.
Rochiril's reins in my hands, I spurred her to a spirited canter.
Glorious is G-d who in His wisdom has cursed me with this existence.
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Walking about the keep after my daily practice yard regimen was becoming a habit, but at least today I would break the monotony a bit. The halls and castle were still splendid, but I felt even that part of me becoming familiar with the areas I treaded most days.
I also found myself nervous about the day's upcoming event, as while I had taken the time to set up the game, even inviting our half-brother and tasking him with finding two more players, I knew not if Rhaenys would choose to come. I would not blame her if she did not. I was vile towards her. I hoped our cousin would convince her. After all, five players is not enough. I forced a laugh.
Passing guards that were becoming all too familiar, I left the keep in short order on Rochiril to where I had arranged for the game to be played. The skies were only partly cloudy.
Arriving at the 'arena', really a field with some hastily erected border posts for the purpose of the game, I nodded to myself when I saw three familiar men in riding clothes who had arrived here before me. At least you didn't bring him, Orys.
Quenton Qoherys was only of a height with Orys, maybe slightly shorter but his build was broader, and while only a few years my elder he looked closer to thirty-six than thirty, at least in my opinion. He had the handsome features one associated with Valyrians. Save for his flat nose. Slave's blood. I wanted to heave as I realized what I'd thought, and I quickly decided to greet my half-brother.
"I had thought you would not be arriving for another half hour. What got you here so promptly?" I asked, and cringed internally. You could have phrased that better.
Orys seemed to take it in stride, just waving it off and replying, "I found my players more quickly than expected, sister." I raised an eyebrow at that. Is he being literal? Is he mocking me? I pushed down the feeling. He wouldn't mock me. The thought felt hollow.
Servants were busy at work, no doubt ensuring the boundary posts would stay in place even as others were setting up the goal posts.
"Oh?"
Quenton spoke up, "Your husband the Archon had no need for me in the training yard today, Visenya." I frowned at the mention of Aegon before breathing in and out very lightly. I turned my attention to the last man of the bunch.
"And you, Ser Vaeron?" I asked, and a smile lit up the face of the recently knighted third son of Crispian Celtigar. It was fairly infectious, as I felt my nervous mood melt away as the young man replied.
"I was chosen by the Archon to take place in this game of Four Corners, Archontissa!" At least someone was happy. Meanwhile, I wanted to scowl at Orys.
"Is that so?" I kept my tone even, and Quenton then replied.
"I was there, Visenya. Though the knight embellishes his tale. Your husband was in earshot when Orys invited me and declined the offer before it could be made. Vaeron invited himself." The eighteen year old knight's face reddened at that and Quenton laughed.
"Ser Vaeron, and the Archon gave me his blessing!" He protested.
"Ser Vaeron, then. My brother nodded in your general direction. Mayhap he was giving his blessing to the bookshelf which was near to where you stood." Orys teased, and that had me laughing. And the back and forth continued until we were interrupted by the arrival of two figures on horseback. The nervousness returned as the events of that night played in my mind again.
Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about it for long as we were soon ready for our game. My team consisted of Orys, Quenton and myself. The other being Rhaenys, Vaeron and Corlys. Our hammers in hand, and all players in position we started the game.
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I panted, having enjoyed the game of polo. Certainly, they called it something else. But it was definitely polo. Our team may have come off the worse, but it was still more fun than I'd had in some time. Visions of hippodromes for horse racing and perhaps even tourney use and indoor arenas for other sports came to mind as I thought of what I'd see if I could pester Aegon about once we ruled Westeros. I'd love to play more, and having something like this to do would make what time I had free as Queen, what little I could expect… well, to be fun and active.
Orys smiled and for once I smiled back, widely and genuinely. "That was a close game, sister. I had not expected you to play so wildly."
Quenton laughed, sounding lighter than he had since his sons' last name day. "Our lady certainly rode her horse like she was born to it today. Were it not for Vaeron and Corlys we might have won!" Vaeron was skilled and clearly played a lot. But even he had been merely good compared with my cousin. Corlys was… he was something else entirely. Half a horse himself and daring and bold. My heart raced.
"We must do this again, when we are able!" I laughed, "Next time I think Rhaenys will be on my team!" Rhaenys looked a bit puzzled, but then more than pleased at that. Good, she deserves it. Thank you, little sister.
Nodding my head toward the side, I let her know I wanted to talk alone as we left our sweating mounts and the excitedly talking men behind and walked to the other side. We sat upon a smoothed bit of stone together. Her forehead was dried somewhat now, after a good wipe as was my own and her silver ponytail shone in the afternoon sun. I didn't know how to approach this, so I just spoke.
"I want to apologize, for what… for what I said that night. I was cruel to you, and I hurt you. I should not have. You deserve far better than I for a sister, Rhaenys." She merely tilted her head at that, not saying a word and my heart was pounding in my chest as a result. Say something!
"I am a horrible sister. I was angry at Aegon, not you. I should not have let my anger at him taint our own conversations." I gulped, as I made the decision on what to say next, "And you were right. I was upset about a man, a man I can not have, not ever. Especially not now." That's not a lie, after all. Even if it's not entirely true.
At that, Rhaenys' expression turned from attentive to thoughtful, and moments passed in the awkward silence.
"What is this man of yours like, 'Senya?" She smiled at me.
I coughed, "What?"
"You have never been moonstruck, so I want to know what kind of man it takes to catch the eye of my dutiful sister." She elbowed me gently. I smiled as I recalled all that I could of him.
"Tall, taller even than our uncle. Dark-haired. Brown eyed. He was educated and had something of a temper, from what I could glean. Handsome. Obsessed with histories of the far east. Fond of island cats, and he liked the sea." I frowned, feeling heavy and knotted up inside even as Rhaenys' hand rested on my arm.
"He had my heart, even if he could not have my hand and now he is gone. The tides are cruel indeed." The tides of fate, and the will of G-d. I hope you will be happy, love. "You can not tell Aegon that I had eyes for another, even for a short time. Promise me, please." I begged. I did not want to imagine how much worse things might be if I were thought of as… some woman who could not keep to her vows. Even if I wanted to break them now. I am not his wife.
I felt my arm being squeezed, gently by her hand. "I am sorry." A chill ran down my spine, and my terror must have shown on my face as she shook her head and hugged me. "No, 'Senya. I will not tell Aegon. I am merely… sad to hear that you loved, and that love could never be. It must be horrible. But you do not have to bear this alone, sister. If you cry I will not tell." I hugged her as tightly as I could, trying to find some way to express how much the words meant to me.
Realizing she might be uncomfortable, I loosened my grip slightly, "Sorry. I should not have… I apologize for…" I blushed, and felt my face burning as she grinned.
"'Senya, it is fine! I am merely overwhelmed." I swore that her grin had gotten wider.
Folding my arms under my breasts I glanced away from her. "By… what?"
"You are acting more my sister, for once. Than the Archontissa. I missed this, 'Senya." She rested her head on my shoulder, and I stroked her tied-up hair.
A parasite, wearing Visenya's skin. I shut the voice up, and just let myself enjoy the feeling. I couldn't replace the Visenya she lost, but maybe I could make her happy anyway. She wasn't really my sister, but I could play pretend. It felt good, and she deserved it.
I won't let you die, I promise.
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It had been almost three weeks since we'd all been in one room together, since that dinner where Aegon had claimed Orys would be the new Joffrey Lydden. In place of formal wear I was in riding clothes, as was Rhaenys. Orys was dressed in a bright red tunic, heavily embroidered on the cuffs and hem with similarly bright boots, though yellow and made of a soft leather. His mantle was missing.
Aegon, however, was dressed in a shorter black tunic with gold stitching along the sleeves and finer embroidery in the shape of dragons, worn over a fairly plain undershirt and fine linen leggings. His boots were taller than Orys, with open toes. His mantle was akin to that which he wore at dinner.
"You know why I have summoned you all here." My brother said as he wore the biggest smile I'd seen in some time, I almost wanted to smile with him. Almost. I can not wait, Aegon. When the time came, I'd be sure to let him know I told him so. That I was right.
He snapped his fingers and a servant brought a fairly plain box over. It was well-made and fairly large. Having multiple hinges so that it could not open easily by accident. When the servant, a fair-haired young man set the box down Aegon dismissed him. "Heavier than I thought it would be. Perhaps Argilac sent a gift? I had thought I would have to argue more to get him to accept." He smiled at Orys, handing him the box.
"Our Orys will have the honor of opening this." Orys nodded respectfully and opened the offered box. I had never seen a face go from puzzlement to disgust to anger until I saw Orys in that moment.
My half-brother dropped the box on the table where it landed with a thud. Filled with straw and a pair of hands, one of which had flopped from the container to the table. I felt like I was going to lose my lunch at the sight.
"How dare he! That mangy Westerosi lord of pig styies and wailing whores!" Aegon raged, his fist colliding with the table and knocking the single hand to the floor. I wanted to tell him 'I told you so', but I could not get my mouth to work. All I could see was the hand flopping out from the box, all I could think of was the man we'd sent to deliver our message, and the fact I'd wanted to gloat to Aegon about this.
I'll give his family a bag of silver. I vowed as Aegon continued to rage.
"He harmed our messenger. He insulted me! How dare he! My brother is more than good enough for his daughter! He should be honored I would grant his daughter the privilege of marrying Orys! Rhaenys, we ride for Storm's End. We will show this barbarian what it means to insult the dragonlords." His purple-eyed gaze sweeped the room, and I felt when it landed on me. "You will come too, Visenya. His precious castle will not protect him. Tarth and the Storm King's fleet will burn first, then we will take Storm's End and show him not to insult us."
I shook my head. "No. Aegon, think about this. We can't. Remember our plan."
"We can not let Argilac get away with this! He has so little respect for us that he maimed our messenger! He thinks so little of us, of our brother that he would kill the man who brought him my message!" Rhaenys placed her hand on his shoulder, and he seemed to calm slightly.
"Aegon." She spoke clearly, calmly, and with a surprising sternness. Aegon nodded and breathed in deeply, then let it out.
"Visenya is right, brother. We should keep to our plan. We will need more swords at our back, and when the time comes… we can simply take his castle and kingdom. Storm's End would make a fine seat for our brother, and Argilac will know that he lost his kingdom when he rejected having a son." Rhaenys spoke the words with a faintly amused tone, and Aegon seemed to return to his normal self quickly enough.
Aegon nodded, as if having come to a decision.
"Visenya, send the raven. Our uncle will summon our vassals for a council of war. It is time the Westerosi were brought to heel." He said, rubbing his chin.
I did as he asked. The image of severed hands burning in my mind all the while.
I am sorry.
The courtyard, and indeed the dwelling in general, was lit by a series of lanterns and candles even now in the early evening. Illuminating the wall frescoes of the courtyard, a scene from legend, of the first dragonlord's life. His mother the moon, and his father a mortal man who earned her love by capturing the sun's light in a necklace. It was said their child's hair was touched with both sun and moon in equal measure, and it was he who ended the long night and sired the race of Valyrians. A cute tale, but most likely nothing else. Rhaenys always liked those stories when we were children. I clamped down on the guilt that surged within me and set that line of thought aside.
The floors were tile mosaics depicting wildlife scenes, and looking down I was reminded of my sandal covered feet baring my toes. I could have worn something more formal for footwear, but I wanted to let my feet breathe tonight and the sandals were well-made regardless. Besides, I was in riding clothes so it wasn't as if the sandals clashed that much. Who will chide me? Some upjumped coin counter and his wife? I snorted as I was led finally into the central room where the limenarch and his wife were waiting.
My eye was drawn to the altar, the household shrine itself. A silver star with seven points took the place where some figure or icon to one of the many gods of Valyria would have rested. Why does it feel so wrong to me? I shook the feeling off, that momentary distraction done and over with.
Haeron was dressed much as before, save for his shoes being finer and this time I caught the scent of perfumes that I assumed both he and his wife had for the occasion. "We welcome you to our home, Archontissa." I caught him glancing toward his wife. A woman of average height, with long and flowing flaxen-colored hair with green eyes. What caught my attention was her clothing, a dark robe with few embellishments save for a bright green banding around her waist with her mantle worn in a style that fastened about her waist and shoulder. I couldn't remember seeing the style before.
"I was born and raised in the Stormlands, Archontissa." She spoke for the first time, in a Valyrian that I could barely catch the hints of an accent in. Her voice was clear and composed. Am I so transparent? I composed myself, adopting as close to a neutral expression as I could manage.
"You are Westerosi, then." I said.
"I am as Westerosi as my husband, Archontissa. I am a woman of Dragonstone, and have been for years." She replied without hesitation.
I nodded, "Of course."
The silence stretched for almost ten seconds before the limenarch bowed deeply.
"Please, allow us to escort you. It is difficult to eat if we are not in the dining room." He weakly offered, and I just went with them. I was here to eat after all, not to awkwardly exchange words with his wife for the evening.
The dining area was simple enough, well-lit and neatly furnished with couches and a large center table. Painted walls depicting nature in the form of a scene involving herons in a reed marsh. The food was surprisingly similar to what I had the night before, mostly a mix of fish and other meats and green vegetables. Save for the corn. Actual cob corn. Seasoned shrimp and some hot dogs, that'd make it feel like home. Almost. My thoughts were interrupted by Haeron's voice.
"I am pleased that you accepted my invitation to dine with us tonight, Archontissa." Even I could tell that was a lie. "My sincerest apologies if the humble fare of my house is not up to your standards, had I more time I would have prepared something more worthy of you." Something in me hated the simpering, and I had to bite back harsh words and dismissed his concerns with a wave of my hand.
"You do not need to use titles with me tonight, Haeron. Call me Visenya." I forced a laugh.
"What is your name?" I asked the limenarch's wife.
Her reply felt like a slap to the face. I wasn't sure if I heard it right.
"Could you repeat that?" I kept my breathing controlled.
"Alesandra. I was named for my grandmother, Archontissa."
I strained to keep a polite smile on my face as it felt like she'd driven a knife into me. So close to… it's not fair! The meal continued mostly in silence, occasionally broken up by a small talk or another. Until we had finished, and dessert had come and gone. Fruit tarts and spiced cold meats, chilled with ice.
"What did you think of your meal, Archontissa?" His thin smile was nervous, as it had been throughout most of this dinner.
I felt a surge of rage boil up at his tiptoeing around me. I'd been polite and tried to be friendly, and yet he insisted on titles and acting as though I was going to rip his head off if he said one wrong word. You're not being fair to him.
"It is... " I waved the utensil very slightly in between my thumb and index finger, "I enjoyed the food, certainly. The conversation was better, though. What about you? Speak freely, I am a woman grown, not a girl with pride pricklier than a... " I snapped my fingers, trying to remember what the animal was. Hedgehog? What's the thing with quills. Fuck. "No matter, what I mean is that you won't offend me and I promise no harm will come from anything you say here."
"Archontissa, you swear it? I may speak freely with no fear of reprisal?" He asked nervously, and I simply nodded.
"If you wished you could run me through, Archontissa. You do not seem well-pleased with me, and have seemed on the cusp of a rage many times. I fear you, even as I accept that you dragonlords are as above me as a man is above the beasts of the field." I caught his wife frowning at that last part.
"I… see. Haeron, nothing you have done has upset me. I merely have greater things on my mind." Pitying yourself? Trying to play friend to people you don't even know? "I shall speak well of you to my brother-husband the Archon upon my return home." The words felt like bile.
His face lit up with something other than nervousness and fear for the first time this night, and it left a knot in my stomach. You're his lord's wife. Even with people she did not know, I couldn't escape that fact. I swallowed my sadness as customary farewells were given, and I refused an offer for escort back to Dragonstone keep.
With the silvery light of the crescent moon bearing down on me I rode back… back home. For that is what Dragonstone was now. I had not woken up, I had lived every day a life that felt as real as that which I had lived before. There was no going back, no matter how much I wanted it.
Rochiril's reins in my hands, I spurred her to a spirited canter.
Glorious is G-d who in His wisdom has cursed me with this existence.
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Walking about the keep after my daily practice yard regimen was becoming a habit, but at least today I would break the monotony a bit. The halls and castle were still splendid, but I felt even that part of me becoming familiar with the areas I treaded most days.
I also found myself nervous about the day's upcoming event, as while I had taken the time to set up the game, even inviting our half-brother and tasking him with finding two more players, I knew not if Rhaenys would choose to come. I would not blame her if she did not. I was vile towards her. I hoped our cousin would convince her. After all, five players is not enough. I forced a laugh.
Passing guards that were becoming all too familiar, I left the keep in short order on Rochiril to where I had arranged for the game to be played. The skies were only partly cloudy.
Arriving at the 'arena', really a field with some hastily erected border posts for the purpose of the game, I nodded to myself when I saw three familiar men in riding clothes who had arrived here before me. At least you didn't bring him, Orys.
Quenton Qoherys was only of a height with Orys, maybe slightly shorter but his build was broader, and while only a few years my elder he looked closer to thirty-six than thirty, at least in my opinion. He had the handsome features one associated with Valyrians. Save for his flat nose. Slave's blood. I wanted to heave as I realized what I'd thought, and I quickly decided to greet my half-brother.
"I had thought you would not be arriving for another half hour. What got you here so promptly?" I asked, and cringed internally. You could have phrased that better.
Orys seemed to take it in stride, just waving it off and replying, "I found my players more quickly than expected, sister." I raised an eyebrow at that. Is he being literal? Is he mocking me? I pushed down the feeling. He wouldn't mock me. The thought felt hollow.
Servants were busy at work, no doubt ensuring the boundary posts would stay in place even as others were setting up the goal posts.
"Oh?"
Quenton spoke up, "Your husband the Archon had no need for me in the training yard today, Visenya." I frowned at the mention of Aegon before breathing in and out very lightly. I turned my attention to the last man of the bunch.
"And you, Ser Vaeron?" I asked, and a smile lit up the face of the recently knighted third son of Crispian Celtigar. It was fairly infectious, as I felt my nervous mood melt away as the young man replied.
"I was chosen by the Archon to take place in this game of Four Corners, Archontissa!" At least someone was happy. Meanwhile, I wanted to scowl at Orys.
"Is that so?" I kept my tone even, and Quenton then replied.
"I was there, Visenya. Though the knight embellishes his tale. Your husband was in earshot when Orys invited me and declined the offer before it could be made. Vaeron invited himself." The eighteen year old knight's face reddened at that and Quenton laughed.
"Ser Vaeron, and the Archon gave me his blessing!" He protested.
"Ser Vaeron, then. My brother nodded in your general direction. Mayhap he was giving his blessing to the bookshelf which was near to where you stood." Orys teased, and that had me laughing. And the back and forth continued until we were interrupted by the arrival of two figures on horseback. The nervousness returned as the events of that night played in my mind again.
Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about it for long as we were soon ready for our game. My team consisted of Orys, Quenton and myself. The other being Rhaenys, Vaeron and Corlys. Our hammers in hand, and all players in position we started the game.
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I panted, having enjoyed the game of polo. Certainly, they called it something else. But it was definitely polo. Our team may have come off the worse, but it was still more fun than I'd had in some time. Visions of hippodromes for horse racing and perhaps even tourney use and indoor arenas for other sports came to mind as I thought of what I'd see if I could pester Aegon about once we ruled Westeros. I'd love to play more, and having something like this to do would make what time I had free as Queen, what little I could expect… well, to be fun and active.
Orys smiled and for once I smiled back, widely and genuinely. "That was a close game, sister. I had not expected you to play so wildly."
Quenton laughed, sounding lighter than he had since his sons' last name day. "Our lady certainly rode her horse like she was born to it today. Were it not for Vaeron and Corlys we might have won!" Vaeron was skilled and clearly played a lot. But even he had been merely good compared with my cousin. Corlys was… he was something else entirely. Half a horse himself and daring and bold. My heart raced.
"We must do this again, when we are able!" I laughed, "Next time I think Rhaenys will be on my team!" Rhaenys looked a bit puzzled, but then more than pleased at that. Good, she deserves it. Thank you, little sister.
Nodding my head toward the side, I let her know I wanted to talk alone as we left our sweating mounts and the excitedly talking men behind and walked to the other side. We sat upon a smoothed bit of stone together. Her forehead was dried somewhat now, after a good wipe as was my own and her silver ponytail shone in the afternoon sun. I didn't know how to approach this, so I just spoke.
"I want to apologize, for what… for what I said that night. I was cruel to you, and I hurt you. I should not have. You deserve far better than I for a sister, Rhaenys." She merely tilted her head at that, not saying a word and my heart was pounding in my chest as a result. Say something!
"I am a horrible sister. I was angry at Aegon, not you. I should not have let my anger at him taint our own conversations." I gulped, as I made the decision on what to say next, "And you were right. I was upset about a man, a man I can not have, not ever. Especially not now." That's not a lie, after all. Even if it's not entirely true.
At that, Rhaenys' expression turned from attentive to thoughtful, and moments passed in the awkward silence.
"What is this man of yours like, 'Senya?" She smiled at me.
I coughed, "What?"
"You have never been moonstruck, so I want to know what kind of man it takes to catch the eye of my dutiful sister." She elbowed me gently. I smiled as I recalled all that I could of him.
"Tall, taller even than our uncle. Dark-haired. Brown eyed. He was educated and had something of a temper, from what I could glean. Handsome. Obsessed with histories of the far east. Fond of island cats, and he liked the sea." I frowned, feeling heavy and knotted up inside even as Rhaenys' hand rested on my arm.
"He had my heart, even if he could not have my hand and now he is gone. The tides are cruel indeed." The tides of fate, and the will of G-d. I hope you will be happy, love. "You can not tell Aegon that I had eyes for another, even for a short time. Promise me, please." I begged. I did not want to imagine how much worse things might be if I were thought of as… some woman who could not keep to her vows. Even if I wanted to break them now. I am not his wife.
I felt my arm being squeezed, gently by her hand. "I am sorry." A chill ran down my spine, and my terror must have shown on my face as she shook her head and hugged me. "No, 'Senya. I will not tell Aegon. I am merely… sad to hear that you loved, and that love could never be. It must be horrible. But you do not have to bear this alone, sister. If you cry I will not tell." I hugged her as tightly as I could, trying to find some way to express how much the words meant to me.
Realizing she might be uncomfortable, I loosened my grip slightly, "Sorry. I should not have… I apologize for…" I blushed, and felt my face burning as she grinned.
"'Senya, it is fine! I am merely overwhelmed." I swore that her grin had gotten wider.
Folding my arms under my breasts I glanced away from her. "By… what?"
"You are acting more my sister, for once. Than the Archontissa. I missed this, 'Senya." She rested her head on my shoulder, and I stroked her tied-up hair.
A parasite, wearing Visenya's skin. I shut the voice up, and just let myself enjoy the feeling. I couldn't replace the Visenya she lost, but maybe I could make her happy anyway. She wasn't really my sister, but I could play pretend. It felt good, and she deserved it.
I won't let you die, I promise.
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It had been almost three weeks since we'd all been in one room together, since that dinner where Aegon had claimed Orys would be the new Joffrey Lydden. In place of formal wear I was in riding clothes, as was Rhaenys. Orys was dressed in a bright red tunic, heavily embroidered on the cuffs and hem with similarly bright boots, though yellow and made of a soft leather. His mantle was missing.
Aegon, however, was dressed in a shorter black tunic with gold stitching along the sleeves and finer embroidery in the shape of dragons, worn over a fairly plain undershirt and fine linen leggings. His boots were taller than Orys, with open toes. His mantle was akin to that which he wore at dinner.
"You know why I have summoned you all here." My brother said as he wore the biggest smile I'd seen in some time, I almost wanted to smile with him. Almost. I can not wait, Aegon. When the time came, I'd be sure to let him know I told him so. That I was right.
He snapped his fingers and a servant brought a fairly plain box over. It was well-made and fairly large. Having multiple hinges so that it could not open easily by accident. When the servant, a fair-haired young man set the box down Aegon dismissed him. "Heavier than I thought it would be. Perhaps Argilac sent a gift? I had thought I would have to argue more to get him to accept." He smiled at Orys, handing him the box.
"Our Orys will have the honor of opening this." Orys nodded respectfully and opened the offered box. I had never seen a face go from puzzlement to disgust to anger until I saw Orys in that moment.
My half-brother dropped the box on the table where it landed with a thud. Filled with straw and a pair of hands, one of which had flopped from the container to the table. I felt like I was going to lose my lunch at the sight.
"How dare he! That mangy Westerosi lord of pig styies and wailing whores!" Aegon raged, his fist colliding with the table and knocking the single hand to the floor. I wanted to tell him 'I told you so', but I could not get my mouth to work. All I could see was the hand flopping out from the box, all I could think of was the man we'd sent to deliver our message, and the fact I'd wanted to gloat to Aegon about this.
I'll give his family a bag of silver. I vowed as Aegon continued to rage.
"He harmed our messenger. He insulted me! How dare he! My brother is more than good enough for his daughter! He should be honored I would grant his daughter the privilege of marrying Orys! Rhaenys, we ride for Storm's End. We will show this barbarian what it means to insult the dragonlords." His purple-eyed gaze sweeped the room, and I felt when it landed on me. "You will come too, Visenya. His precious castle will not protect him. Tarth and the Storm King's fleet will burn first, then we will take Storm's End and show him not to insult us."
I shook my head. "No. Aegon, think about this. We can't. Remember our plan."
"We can not let Argilac get away with this! He has so little respect for us that he maimed our messenger! He thinks so little of us, of our brother that he would kill the man who brought him my message!" Rhaenys placed her hand on his shoulder, and he seemed to calm slightly.
"Aegon." She spoke clearly, calmly, and with a surprising sternness. Aegon nodded and breathed in deeply, then let it out.
"Visenya is right, brother. We should keep to our plan. We will need more swords at our back, and when the time comes… we can simply take his castle and kingdom. Storm's End would make a fine seat for our brother, and Argilac will know that he lost his kingdom when he rejected having a son." Rhaenys spoke the words with a faintly amused tone, and Aegon seemed to return to his normal self quickly enough.
Aegon nodded, as if having come to a decision.
"Visenya, send the raven. Our uncle will summon our vassals for a council of war. It is time the Westerosi were brought to heel." He said, rubbing his chin.
I did as he asked. The image of severed hands burning in my mind all the while.
I am sorry.
Omake: A Day At the Beach
The sun was high in the sky and the sea a shining blue when the two women made their way into the rocky cove, hidden from all except any traversing the very trail they were using. The first woman led the way, a spring in her step as she kept an endless stream of chatter at her taller and surlier companion.
"Come now, 'Senya!" she called over her shoulder when the taller one voiced her complaints once again. "You said you would spend the day with me and that we would not speak of Aegon or his Conquest once!"
"I thought you meant flying, Rhaenys," growled the elder. "Not… this."
"It's fun!" Rhaenys laughed back. "And you did promise!"
The elder, 'Senya, gave in with an audible 'humph' and continued following the younger, her cheeks aglow with embarrassment.
"What if someone sees?" she whined, stopping once more and flicking a nervous glance out to sea.
"They won't," replied Rhaenys, before noticing that her sister had stopped once more and sighing. "'Senya, the dragons will block all view from the sea and we have guards posted on the trail."
'Senya squirmed, looking as if Rhaenys had just presented her with something disgusting and told her it was for her to eat.
"'Senya," said Rhaenys, her voice dropping and her look becoming oddly serious. "I will not force you to join me. I just want to spend some time with you before Aegon has us racing about, hip deep in war and conquest."
They began walking again in a reflective, picking their way over the trail carefully to avoid tripping over rocks and treacherous gravel. After a while, the elder spoke once more.
"How did you even come across such a place?" she asked, seemingly out of a desire for something to say than any real curiosity. Rhaenys did not answer for some time, instead humming in thought.
"Aegon showed me," she finally said, tone reluctant.
"Ah," said 'Senya. "I see."
For a moment, Rhaenys opened her mouth as if she intended to apologise on reflex… and then it snapped shut. The silence stretched on again as both made it to the golden sands, each lost in their own thoughts with a frown upon their faces.
"This is already going wrong," complained Rhaenys, dropping a bundle of cloth to the floor. "I thought-"
"You brought me to your and Aegon's hook-up spot," snarked 'Senya, her tone disapproving.
"Hook-up?" Then she seemed to consider the rest of 'Senya's rebuke and groaned. "Syrax's claw, I did!"
Rhaenys let out a groan of dismay and flopped into the sand, propping her head up on the cloth bundle she had brought. 'Senya's gaze did not waver, her eyes on the sea and waves.
"I just… I just wanted something nice. I love it here, I wanted to show you because it's so beautiful…" Rhaenys trailed off, hopeful eyes on her sister, who seemed more lost in memories than anything. "I messed up, didn't I?"
'Senya blinked and then shook her head, as if trying to clear thoughts from her mind. Then she glanced down at her sister, whose face bore genuine grief instead of the usual playfulness.
"I don't blame you," she said softly. The younger blinked furiously at that, before reaching up to press the bridge of her nose.
"I don't see how you couldn't," she finally admitted. "I hardly said no."
"Did you really want to talk about this?" asked 'Senya and Rhaenys tilted her head, trailing her silver gold hair through the damp sand. "It's not your fault our husband is a lecherous ass."
"Do you want to talk about him?" asked Rhaenys, curious more than accusing. 'Senya snorted in derision, violet eyes flashing dangerously.
"No. I am tired of him. I can not wait to see the back of him." Rhaenys sat up at those words, looking almost shocked but curious beside. Then she seemed to think better of it as she caught sight of her older sister's body language. Tense, hunched shoulders and a hand laid almost absent-mindedly on the hilt of Dark Sister, tapping out a discordant beat.
She bit her lip and then stood, doing her best to wipe away some of the sand that stuck to her clothing in clumps here and there. 'Senya snorted when she saw it and some tension drained from her as she batted sand from her shoulder.
"It beats me why you are trying to get the sand off when you will just drop the dress into the sand in a moment anyway," groused 'Senya, her cheeks aglow with red once more. Rhaenys paused and then laughed, making her elder sister blush even deeper.
"It's the principle of the thing!" she replied, smiling broadly. 'Senya looked away hastily as she began fumbling with straps and laces, even her ears a bright red now.
"It's ridiculous," she mumbled.
"You are ridiculous," replied the younger in a cheeky tone. "You used to bathe me as a child!"
"I did not," groused 'Senya. "I watched the maid bathe you."
"And gave her so many instructions that you might as well have been the one bathing me." The dress hit the sand with a 'fwoomph' and Rhaenys stepped out of it with a sigh of relief. "Come on, 'Senya, we've both seen each other's bodies. Why are you being so prudish?"
"You said you wouldn't force the matter," whined 'Senya right back. Rhaenys merely snorted and began fumbling with her small clothes.
"Fine," she grumbled, as she finished stripping and added her small clothes to the pile. "But you are missing out! The water is always perfect here."
Her eldest sibling did not reply and she gave up, letting out a whoop of joy as she waded into the sea. She paddled in the shallows for a good while, enjoying the sun on her bare shoulders as 'Senya picked her way around the shore and found herself a rock. Her sibling still had her back to her, instead watching the dragons as they lazed around in the deeper water.
The sun glinting off their scales made them breathtaking, gold and green and silver all gleaming and casting reflections across the water. 'Senya's gaze being drawn to them was not entirely feigned. Majestic as they were flying through the air, they did not lose a bit of that in the sea where one might think they'd be ungainly. Even the much smaller Vhagar seemed to dwarf the rocks around them.
Unseen by her sister, Rhaenys dipped her head down and swam forwards mischief in her eyes until she was beneath the rock 'Senya was perched on. Her sister did not see her nor hear her, lost in her own thoughts again. She waited a while, expecting her to notice and chase her for being a pest but the woman did not turn. Rhaenys' smirk grew into a grin.
Moments later, 'Senya was sputtering in shock and annoyance as Rhaenys sent a wave of water splashing towards her. There was a pause as both tensed, waiting for the other's reaction. Then 'Senya sighed and Rhaenys collapsed into giggles.
"Are you that desperate to see me naked?" asked 'Senya finally, sending Rhaenys' cheeks red. "You did drag me to quite the romantic place, Rhaenys, are you hinting at something?"
The spluttered and almost frantic denials were sweet as she seemed to come to some sort of decision, nodding to herself.
"Here it goes," she murmured, more to herself than the stammering mess Rhaenys had managed to work herself into. She tossed aside her cloak and sword belt, slipping out of her shoes.
"'Senya, wait- I do not- I am n-" She stopped dead when 'Senya peered at her, a mischievous grin of her own in place. She froze, mind going blank for a second as her sister quickly shucked herself out of her own clothes.
She had just about gotten her head around 'Senya teasing her in turn when her sister hit the water next to her, drenching her.
"Well then, Rhaenys," she chuckled a moment later, treading water. "You were so insistent I join you, what now?"
---------------
Poster's Note: This takes place during the three week time skip.
Chapter 3 of AQC is currently in production, fear not! Thanks go out to Leonie for writing this up for my birthday. Even if the idea was one we more or less worked on far in advance. She gets the credit for actually writing it down.
"Come now, 'Senya!" she called over her shoulder when the taller one voiced her complaints once again. "You said you would spend the day with me and that we would not speak of Aegon or his Conquest once!"
"I thought you meant flying, Rhaenys," growled the elder. "Not… this."
"It's fun!" Rhaenys laughed back. "And you did promise!"
The elder, 'Senya, gave in with an audible 'humph' and continued following the younger, her cheeks aglow with embarrassment.
"What if someone sees?" she whined, stopping once more and flicking a nervous glance out to sea.
"They won't," replied Rhaenys, before noticing that her sister had stopped once more and sighing. "'Senya, the dragons will block all view from the sea and we have guards posted on the trail."
'Senya squirmed, looking as if Rhaenys had just presented her with something disgusting and told her it was for her to eat.
"'Senya," said Rhaenys, her voice dropping and her look becoming oddly serious. "I will not force you to join me. I just want to spend some time with you before Aegon has us racing about, hip deep in war and conquest."
They began walking again in a reflective, picking their way over the trail carefully to avoid tripping over rocks and treacherous gravel. After a while, the elder spoke once more.
"How did you even come across such a place?" she asked, seemingly out of a desire for something to say than any real curiosity. Rhaenys did not answer for some time, instead humming in thought.
"Aegon showed me," she finally said, tone reluctant.
"Ah," said 'Senya. "I see."
For a moment, Rhaenys opened her mouth as if she intended to apologise on reflex… and then it snapped shut. The silence stretched on again as both made it to the golden sands, each lost in their own thoughts with a frown upon their faces.
"This is already going wrong," complained Rhaenys, dropping a bundle of cloth to the floor. "I thought-"
"You brought me to your and Aegon's hook-up spot," snarked 'Senya, her tone disapproving.
"Hook-up?" Then she seemed to consider the rest of 'Senya's rebuke and groaned. "Syrax's claw, I did!"
Rhaenys let out a groan of dismay and flopped into the sand, propping her head up on the cloth bundle she had brought. 'Senya's gaze did not waver, her eyes on the sea and waves.
"I just… I just wanted something nice. I love it here, I wanted to show you because it's so beautiful…" Rhaenys trailed off, hopeful eyes on her sister, who seemed more lost in memories than anything. "I messed up, didn't I?"
'Senya blinked and then shook her head, as if trying to clear thoughts from her mind. Then she glanced down at her sister, whose face bore genuine grief instead of the usual playfulness.
"I don't blame you," she said softly. The younger blinked furiously at that, before reaching up to press the bridge of her nose.
"I don't see how you couldn't," she finally admitted. "I hardly said no."
"Did you really want to talk about this?" asked 'Senya and Rhaenys tilted her head, trailing her silver gold hair through the damp sand. "It's not your fault our husband is a lecherous ass."
"Do you want to talk about him?" asked Rhaenys, curious more than accusing. 'Senya snorted in derision, violet eyes flashing dangerously.
"No. I am tired of him. I can not wait to see the back of him." Rhaenys sat up at those words, looking almost shocked but curious beside. Then she seemed to think better of it as she caught sight of her older sister's body language. Tense, hunched shoulders and a hand laid almost absent-mindedly on the hilt of Dark Sister, tapping out a discordant beat.
She bit her lip and then stood, doing her best to wipe away some of the sand that stuck to her clothing in clumps here and there. 'Senya snorted when she saw it and some tension drained from her as she batted sand from her shoulder.
"It beats me why you are trying to get the sand off when you will just drop the dress into the sand in a moment anyway," groused 'Senya, her cheeks aglow with red once more. Rhaenys paused and then laughed, making her elder sister blush even deeper.
"It's the principle of the thing!" she replied, smiling broadly. 'Senya looked away hastily as she began fumbling with straps and laces, even her ears a bright red now.
"It's ridiculous," she mumbled.
"You are ridiculous," replied the younger in a cheeky tone. "You used to bathe me as a child!"
"I did not," groused 'Senya. "I watched the maid bathe you."
"And gave her so many instructions that you might as well have been the one bathing me." The dress hit the sand with a 'fwoomph' and Rhaenys stepped out of it with a sigh of relief. "Come on, 'Senya, we've both seen each other's bodies. Why are you being so prudish?"
"You said you wouldn't force the matter," whined 'Senya right back. Rhaenys merely snorted and began fumbling with her small clothes.
"Fine," she grumbled, as she finished stripping and added her small clothes to the pile. "But you are missing out! The water is always perfect here."
Her eldest sibling did not reply and she gave up, letting out a whoop of joy as she waded into the sea. She paddled in the shallows for a good while, enjoying the sun on her bare shoulders as 'Senya picked her way around the shore and found herself a rock. Her sibling still had her back to her, instead watching the dragons as they lazed around in the deeper water.
The sun glinting off their scales made them breathtaking, gold and green and silver all gleaming and casting reflections across the water. 'Senya's gaze being drawn to them was not entirely feigned. Majestic as they were flying through the air, they did not lose a bit of that in the sea where one might think they'd be ungainly. Even the much smaller Vhagar seemed to dwarf the rocks around them.
Unseen by her sister, Rhaenys dipped her head down and swam forwards mischief in her eyes until she was beneath the rock 'Senya was perched on. Her sister did not see her nor hear her, lost in her own thoughts again. She waited a while, expecting her to notice and chase her for being a pest but the woman did not turn. Rhaenys' smirk grew into a grin.
Moments later, 'Senya was sputtering in shock and annoyance as Rhaenys sent a wave of water splashing towards her. There was a pause as both tensed, waiting for the other's reaction. Then 'Senya sighed and Rhaenys collapsed into giggles.
"Are you that desperate to see me naked?" asked 'Senya finally, sending Rhaenys' cheeks red. "You did drag me to quite the romantic place, Rhaenys, are you hinting at something?"
The spluttered and almost frantic denials were sweet as she seemed to come to some sort of decision, nodding to herself.
"Here it goes," she murmured, more to herself than the stammering mess Rhaenys had managed to work herself into. She tossed aside her cloak and sword belt, slipping out of her shoes.
"'Senya, wait- I do not- I am n-" She stopped dead when 'Senya peered at her, a mischievous grin of her own in place. She froze, mind going blank for a second as her sister quickly shucked herself out of her own clothes.
She had just about gotten her head around 'Senya teasing her in turn when her sister hit the water next to her, drenching her.
"Well then, Rhaenys," she chuckled a moment later, treading water. "You were so insistent I join you, what now?"
---------------
Poster's Note: This takes place during the three week time skip.
Chapter 3 of AQC is currently in production, fear not! Thanks go out to Leonie for writing this up for my birthday. Even if the idea was one we more or less worked on far in advance. She gets the credit for actually writing it down.
Chapter Three: Smoke On the (Black)Water
I idly stroked the shining green scales of Vhagar's head, looking out from my spot at the smallest hill towards the tallest hill of the future King's Landing. Even now, most of our men worked to erect a fortified camp there. Aegon's High Hill, I think? Is what it was called. I touched my braid with a mail-clad hand as I felt the sunlight being blocked out by black wings whose size could more than cover my Vhagar.
Aegon, who was sat upon Balerion, circled around the hills, followed by silver Meraxes ridden by Rhaenys, and then the two flew off across the bay again as they had since we arrived the hour before. I hope you're enjoying it, sister. I would not sully her happiness with my own complaints even if she found it alongside him. We all deserve to be happy about something so long as it doesn't hurt someone.
Not for the first time this day I balled my hands into fists fairly half-heartedly as I felt my heart ache.
"Is something amiss, Archontissa?" Came the voice of Vaeron from behind me.
I sighed, "No. I am merely bored." I replied, glancing over at the over eager boy who'd entered my own entourage after our first game of Four Corners at Dragonstone. When did I start thinking of eighteen year olds as that much younger than me? I remembered when I thought being his age made me an adult, and laughed softly to myself.
The shoulder length silvery hair of Vaeron, touched with some few strands of gold, flowed slightly with the strong breeze as he smiled again. I liked his smile, it was earnest and honest. "Father says the waiting is the worst part, and I agree. I know the Archon wants to establish himself here first, but I want to fight." He blew at a strand of hair that had gotten in his face.
"I would rather we not fight at all, Vaeron." He furrowed his brow at that, and I could more than see the confusion in his grey eyes. For a moment my thoughts turned again to his Clawman mother before I shrugged that off.
"Why is that so?" He asked me as he ran a bare hand through his hair.
"What right do we have to run in and just… conquer all of these lands? I could understand if Aegon wished to take the Riverlands and free them from the yoke of the Hoares and put them under our wing. Even taking the Stormlands after Argilac maimed and killed our messenger, but why the rest?" I sighed again, my thoughts on this topic again for what felt like the tenth time today.
"You might as well ask what right the men of the Sunset Lands have to rule as they do over their subjects or fight in their wars. Besides, Archontissa, would it not be better if all of it were under one crown and the wars of the Westerosi stopped?" Aegon's words, even if they came from Vaeron's mouth.
I shrugged, "Mayhap."
And that was that.
My eyes were drawn again to the bay, not to Rhaenys and Aegon flying about but instead to the ships that comprised our forward invasion force. Many smaller galleys and a number of larger ships with the lion's share coming from Driftmark. Not that Daemon would let us forget.
The largest ship was his Lord Laenor. With her pristine white sails, silver prow and sea-green coloring she certainly stood out among the rest. Only the Sweet Sister could compare, and she was a full eighty oars smaller, though black-painted and with scarlet sails and a golden dragon's head on the prow she managed to almost make up for the deficiency with sheer presence.
Sweet Sister indeed. Aegon had named her for m-.. For Visenya, after an argument. The real Visenya hadn't spoken to him for a week after that.
Humming softly, I thought back to the slapdash nature of the men of our host. From the few horsemen of Dragonstone, resplendent in their scale armor and their faces covered with mail stretching down from a cone-shaped helmet, their lance heads shining in the light of the springtime noontide sun, a holdover of the sparse cavalrymen of Old Valyria mixed with traditions learned in the century since. The men of Driftmark in their silvered-steel armor from fine mail to heavy plate and even shining mirrored lamellar, More Westerosi than Valyrian a part of me thought. The Celtigars brought men in both mail and heavy cloth armor, armed with long axes. Archers and men-at-arms from Massey's Hook made up the least of our host, and the men of Dragonstone and Claw Isle looked upon them with suspicion, but Aegon had ordered all of them to work together and so they had.
I envied him that. His ability to just say something and expect it would be done, without regard for the possibility or even the idea of failure. I hate that I envy you at all.
Snapping myself out of my thoughts I cleared my throat and spoke, "Ser Vaeron, please see to the men of this hill, you are in command of them while I am gone." Does that sound official enough?
"As you will, Archontissa!" He replied with a bright smile that helped clear my mood a little, walking off and gesturing at the men under my command and no doubt giving orders about trenches or some such thing while I commandeered a black courser for my own purposes.
Riding on horseback was one of those things I'd grown to enjoy in the past month, Visenya was good at it, and now I was. We? Maybe? I frowned at the thought, I was myself and that was all I needed to know. It's bad enough I answer to your name like a trained dog, can I not even enjoy something without you having a say in it? I gripped the reins, guiding the courser past the camp boundaries. Ruins dotted the lands around our landing spot here and there, I'd heard it said that there were a hundred forts for a thousand kings.
The hills were practically lush compared with my home of Dragonstone, with their rich green grass and foliage and abundant timber not far from the shore even as the fishing villages near to us continued about their daily lives after we'd informed them we were not there to slay them.
Even Driftmark was not this beautiful. White sands and blue seas were nice, but this place reminded me more of home. Along the side of a dark river, not too busy, not bustling and even with the differences it still felt closer to my old home than Dragonstone could. Save for the sea.
I rode on, Balerion and Meraxes flying over the hill I'd been on not long ago on their continual circuit. Balerion lagged behind, and Meraxes spun. The sight of that made me feel sick. How can Rhaenys feel comfortable with that?
Perhaps my sister was simply mad. Maybe she liked the thrill of it. Maybe that's what got her ki- She won't. Not here. As the two flew off, this time straight out into the north end of the camps I averted my eyes from the sea. It seemed wrong, that a body of water could be big enough I couldn't see the other side of it. I knew that oceans existed, of course, and seas and even massive lakes but that wasn't the same. So close to it, the water seemed large enough to swallow me whole.
It made my heart ache all the more for home.
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It begins in truth, now.
The Conquest had truly begun, the dragons were assembled, Meraxes and Vhagar nearest to us, and I and Rhaenys were to be the first to meet the enemy. To fight and kill just so Aegon could have a damn crown. He was willing to kill thousands just for his dream to rule over people who had never been asked.
And yet I remembered a little boy who came to the training yard at Dragonstone, a smile on his face and laughter easily coming from his lips even when covered in scrapes gained from an energetic 'duel' between him and me.. How father had fussed when he saw! I shook my head.
It was hard to reconcile that boy with the man I knew. What do you see in him, little sister?
I breathed in as the man broke from his embrace with my sister, both of them laughing happily. My heart ached at the sight. I wanted that. But never him. It isn't fair. I breathed out, my mail-clad hand no longer in a fist as I calmed myself.
"'Senya, come over here!" Rhaenys called, and I resisted the urge to shrug my shoulders as I walked over to her and Aegon. I would not shrug in public, it was not fitting for a woman of my standing.
"Yes, si-?" I asked simply, or, rather, tried to but before I could say anything I was cut off by Aegon's voice, clear and commanding as he spoke loudly at the men assembled at the high hill. From Vaeron to the sons of Lord Massey to my own cousins and the many men-at-arms and knights I did not know among them.
"Now is when this conquest of the seven kingdoms begins in earnest, and much as the blacksmith's work begins with a hammer stroke so too does that of my own great work. With the honor of the first blow going to my wives, my sisters, your queens!" With that last he grabbed a hand from Rhaenys and I in each of his hands and raised our arms.
I felt my heart race at his words, he spoke well, I can see why men might follow you. I wanted to blush and hide at the cheering his words stirred in the crowd. I almost didn't notice when he let our arms down.
"VICTORY TO THE ARCHON! GLORY TO THE ARCHONTISSAS!"
The words rang inside my head. I felt a smile form as I saw Rhaenys on the other side of Aegon. Her hair loose and free, readily smiling and looking as though she was born to this, despite her doubts about Aegon's ambitions. How does she do it?
She looked beautiful, even in armor, though maybe that was to be expected given the attire was more ceremonial and aesthetically pleasing than it was made for protection. What foe do we need to fear when we rule the skies? Rhaenys had said to me with a laugh when I brought up the idea of a helmet.
What foe indeed. My heart hurt when I thought of a scorpion bolt in Meraxes' eye, of Rhaenys dead or worse. I remembered the arrow wound the original Visenya took at the Field of Fire. I was drawn from my thoughts by the flash of sun reflecting off bright scales.
Rhaenys was already on Meraxes and ready to leave.
The fine bronze scales of the armor, the thinnish black undershirt beneath it matching the luxurious leather boots and trousers, and the scarlet cloak all served to provide a rather striking image. Atop Meraxes, her silver hair being blown in the breeze, she looked more a warrior-queen out of song than the warm sister I'd come to know better in the past month. That fierce image was broken for a moment by her waving down at us with a smile, even as she cracked the whip to get Meraxes moving.
Seeing Rhaenys fly off on Meraxes had me nervous, it was her task to bring Rosby to heel and my own was to put an end to any idea of Stokeworth resisting before they could even raise a levy. On the way we were to force the submission of the lesser lords and knights.
"I wish you luck, 'Senya." Aegon said, and though his words seemed sincere, I liked them not. You do not get to call me that. I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue. I hated that I didn't hate him as much as I did weeks before, I hated that I was unable to muster the same hate, and most of all I hated that I remembered the face of this vainglorious silver-haired heathen better than that of my own love or even my father. It's not fair that your faces are beginning to fade, and his is the one that haunts me.
"I will be back… at some time." I weakly replied. My voice sounded and felt oddly distant from me.
Grunting, I clambered onto Vhagar, whip in hand and shoved down the discomfort in my tummy at the thought of being in the sky again. Of being on the back of a beast larger than any animal I've ever seen aside from the other two dragons. Flashes of my first flight with Vhagar passed through my mind's eye. How can a girl of eight be braver than a woman of six and t-.. Twenty-six? She had picked the dragon because she was the smaller one, but she had still done more than I would have if I were her. And I am, now. I'm sorry.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and when I opened them I cracked the whip. Vhagar heard, and she knew by now what it meant.
Vhagar's movement as she pushed her powerful legs and beat her wings to achieve flight sent a shudder through me. It was less like riding a courser, let alone my palfrey Rochiril, and more like guiding a… I didn't even have words for it. It was like nothing I'd experienced before, a storm given form, a roller coaster gone off the rails, wild and yet controlled and it had felt like that the past three times I'd flown on her as well. The winds blew against my face and whipped my braid around and all I could think of was to not look down. Regardless of my curiosity. Which only made me do so.
Seeing the ground even for a moment from Vhagar's back had my stomach seeming to leap to my throat and then sink. Everything was so much smaller from high up, and the sky was vast and all I had supporting me was Vhagar underneath. Even the sea is safer than this!
Feelings of terror and comfort warred within me as I saw the passing farms, the rivers, and everything else dotted about as I got Vhagar to fly to Stokeworth.
In the end I clung close to the saddle, my face pressed to it nearly the whole time.
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The flight to Stokeworth, aside from my discomfort, was without incident and the few times I let myself peek out below I saw the lands fly past and would quickly hide my face once more as the queasiness and fear overpowered my curiosity. Don't look down.
My legs were tight against the saddle, as though it would somehow keep me better attached than the chains which were already there.
Riding a dragon was not like riding a horse at all, even with a whip it seemed more like I was guiding Vhagar with my mind more than with any rein or command. Perhaps there was some kind of genuine bond between dragonlords and dragons. It matched up with what the real Visenya remembered, certainly. But her knowledge of dragonlore was surprisingly non-mystical.
Why has Vhagar not eaten me, then? A dragon has only one rider, after all. I'm not her, is it because she's dead and Vhagar accepted me instead? Am I enough Visenya for her to accept me and whatever bond there is not to snap?
I did not know the answer.
As the castle came into sight from the horizon I realized Stokeworth's walls were nothing to write home about, and the castle itself wasn't so impressive really. It was sturdy, certainly, but I doubted it would take all that long to get the lord to submit.
Which was why I was surprised when not a few minutes later I had men trying to kill me when I swooped down on Vhagar, as I'd wanted a clean landing in front of the castle itself to accept the lord Stokeworth's surrender.
Men in chain byrnies, men with steel sallets covering their heads, men with crossbows and longbows loosing their bolts and arrows at me. My heart raced.
Damn them all. I thought to myself as a bolt nearly hit me square on the face, but instead whizzed past. Just barely missing me.
I saw red.
As though she felt my emotions, Vhagar roared and flew off eastwards from the castle, I did not care enough to avoid looking down, and all I felt was rage mingled with fear. My hands were close to shaking as I thought of the bolt. Dead. Dead with another woman's name and face. I breathed in and out, and strength filled my limbs again as I resolved to do what I had been afraid to do.
With Vhagar's wings beating powerfully I gave the command, and the bulk of this monster beneath me tensed as the fire built for release, I could almost swear I felt the heat rising from her scales and my heart clenched with dread.
Despite the arrows and the bolts and the men scurrying about, the moment seemed quiet, and I broke it in one breath. With a word that felt like bile in my throat just as it tasted like the sweetest Arbor gold.
"Dracarys," and the fire that had been held within the great beast erupted outwards from her terrible maw in one gout of flame, green with touches of gold swirling within it, and they coated the roof of that small castle and set ablaze the straw and the wood and the men who manned it.
Green flames danced and the stench of smoke and sulphur filled my nostrils, I thought the men would stink, but the fire was all I knew. The heat touching my cheeks, only countered by the light breeze which blew a few errant strands of hair across my face. I wanted to throw up.
Crossbowmen and archers who'd dared to stand against me screamed.
Valyria once ruled the world, it is time these dogs remembered who their masters are. A part of me took pleasure in it, and I realized that I had enjoyed it too and disgust mated with satisfaction all while my silver braid blew in the wind.
With Dark Sister drawn and raised in one hand and saddle-rein held in the other I laughed, laughed because it let out the complicated storm of feelings I had roaring inside me.
"Kneel to your betters, dogs!" By the gods, I wished for the secrets of my ancestors, to wield flame and set flame to running down the length of my steel blade. I would sound a horn and break their wills, I would gain power beyond that of any man alive, I wo- I would be a monster.
The thought haunted me even as I saw the men of the castle waving a banner of truce and desperately trying to put out the flames I had commanded Vhagar to set on them. The screams of the dead and dying were no longer glorious but horrible, and I wanted them to stop.
As the men walked out of the gates, another truce banner in hand, I flew off on Vhagar to make the rounds of the castle once more. In good shape, aside from the few light bits of fire damage here and there, it'll be fine soon enough. I was consoled by that knowledge, those men were active combatants, and the castle was not made an early Harrenhal.
That was the thought on my mind as I landed in front of the men to accept their surrender. Led by a plain looking man in his later years, his black hair peppered with grey and his brown eyes looking up at me upon Vhagar with a mix of fear and resignation, judging by his fine attire with the heraldry of Stokeworth clearly on it, I figured he must have been the lord.
I spoke first, loudly from Vhagar's back and as clear as I could.
"Kneel, and swear fealty to the Targaryens of Dragonstone. To I and my brother, and you shall remain lord over your lands." I gave the terms and saw the man I assumed to be the lord speak to a nearby man in gray robes, I assumed was his maester. A middle-aged man, and comically portly, but he held himself with pride as he spoke at me with a gravelly voice.
"My lord Stokeworth does not speak Valyrian, Lady Targaryen. If you know the Common, he would prefer that you spoke in it." The words made me wish I had a helmet, because I knew for sure my face must have been red with the mix of embarrassment and indignation I felt.
"M-my sincerest apologies, Lord. I only a-assumed that a man of means would at least know the language of culture and trade, rather than being limited to the tongues of the Andal barbarians." I wanted to kick myself at that last part, as the words left my mouth, I could see the men reacting poorly. Not violently, but they were clearly offended. Of course they are. Stammering and you insulted them. What a queen you are.
"Now, I will accept your fealty to my brother, and you will remain as lord of this land and be confirmed in your rights as your family has always held." Aegon's instructions, certainly, and I wished he hadn't given them.
The man knelt, his finery touching the dirt as he did, the truce banner dipping, and him offering his sword. I imagined it looked comical, given he was knelt before a dragon.
He gave oaths that I did not care enough to hear, aside from something about serving my family loyally from now until the end of time. I gave him a nod and spoke at him with a forced smile.
"Do you see? Not so difficult, is it?" I saw the men burning again in my mind's eye, "Now, you will go with your heir and your vassals and march south to give your fealty to my brother in person. He will accept your swords at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush, at the highest hill."
When he gave his final oaths, the smile I bore was no longer forced, and with a crack of a whip I sent Vhagar flying once more, her wings kicking up a small storm of dust and leaving men on the ground no doubt clearing their eyes.
We flew, this time back to the camp where this had begun. My heart light, and my entire being feeling warm as though I'd stepped into a hot bath. I'd done it, after all. I had made a proud man kneel, and with minimal deaths on his end. Did the original Visenya do so well?
I could not remember.
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Aegon, who was sat upon Balerion, circled around the hills, followed by silver Meraxes ridden by Rhaenys, and then the two flew off across the bay again as they had since we arrived the hour before. I hope you're enjoying it, sister. I would not sully her happiness with my own complaints even if she found it alongside him. We all deserve to be happy about something so long as it doesn't hurt someone.
Not for the first time this day I balled my hands into fists fairly half-heartedly as I felt my heart ache.
"Is something amiss, Archontissa?" Came the voice of Vaeron from behind me.
I sighed, "No. I am merely bored." I replied, glancing over at the over eager boy who'd entered my own entourage after our first game of Four Corners at Dragonstone. When did I start thinking of eighteen year olds as that much younger than me? I remembered when I thought being his age made me an adult, and laughed softly to myself.
The shoulder length silvery hair of Vaeron, touched with some few strands of gold, flowed slightly with the strong breeze as he smiled again. I liked his smile, it was earnest and honest. "Father says the waiting is the worst part, and I agree. I know the Archon wants to establish himself here first, but I want to fight." He blew at a strand of hair that had gotten in his face.
"I would rather we not fight at all, Vaeron." He furrowed his brow at that, and I could more than see the confusion in his grey eyes. For a moment my thoughts turned again to his Clawman mother before I shrugged that off.
"Why is that so?" He asked me as he ran a bare hand through his hair.
"What right do we have to run in and just… conquer all of these lands? I could understand if Aegon wished to take the Riverlands and free them from the yoke of the Hoares and put them under our wing. Even taking the Stormlands after Argilac maimed and killed our messenger, but why the rest?" I sighed again, my thoughts on this topic again for what felt like the tenth time today.
"You might as well ask what right the men of the Sunset Lands have to rule as they do over their subjects or fight in their wars. Besides, Archontissa, would it not be better if all of it were under one crown and the wars of the Westerosi stopped?" Aegon's words, even if they came from Vaeron's mouth.
I shrugged, "Mayhap."
And that was that.
My eyes were drawn again to the bay, not to Rhaenys and Aegon flying about but instead to the ships that comprised our forward invasion force. Many smaller galleys and a number of larger ships with the lion's share coming from Driftmark. Not that Daemon would let us forget.
The largest ship was his Lord Laenor. With her pristine white sails, silver prow and sea-green coloring she certainly stood out among the rest. Only the Sweet Sister could compare, and she was a full eighty oars smaller, though black-painted and with scarlet sails and a golden dragon's head on the prow she managed to almost make up for the deficiency with sheer presence.
Sweet Sister indeed. Aegon had named her for m-.. For Visenya, after an argument. The real Visenya hadn't spoken to him for a week after that.
Humming softly, I thought back to the slapdash nature of the men of our host. From the few horsemen of Dragonstone, resplendent in their scale armor and their faces covered with mail stretching down from a cone-shaped helmet, their lance heads shining in the light of the springtime noontide sun, a holdover of the sparse cavalrymen of Old Valyria mixed with traditions learned in the century since. The men of Driftmark in their silvered-steel armor from fine mail to heavy plate and even shining mirrored lamellar, More Westerosi than Valyrian a part of me thought. The Celtigars brought men in both mail and heavy cloth armor, armed with long axes. Archers and men-at-arms from Massey's Hook made up the least of our host, and the men of Dragonstone and Claw Isle looked upon them with suspicion, but Aegon had ordered all of them to work together and so they had.
I envied him that. His ability to just say something and expect it would be done, without regard for the possibility or even the idea of failure. I hate that I envy you at all.
Snapping myself out of my thoughts I cleared my throat and spoke, "Ser Vaeron, please see to the men of this hill, you are in command of them while I am gone." Does that sound official enough?
"As you will, Archontissa!" He replied with a bright smile that helped clear my mood a little, walking off and gesturing at the men under my command and no doubt giving orders about trenches or some such thing while I commandeered a black courser for my own purposes.
Riding on horseback was one of those things I'd grown to enjoy in the past month, Visenya was good at it, and now I was. We? Maybe? I frowned at the thought, I was myself and that was all I needed to know. It's bad enough I answer to your name like a trained dog, can I not even enjoy something without you having a say in it? I gripped the reins, guiding the courser past the camp boundaries. Ruins dotted the lands around our landing spot here and there, I'd heard it said that there were a hundred forts for a thousand kings.
The hills were practically lush compared with my home of Dragonstone, with their rich green grass and foliage and abundant timber not far from the shore even as the fishing villages near to us continued about their daily lives after we'd informed them we were not there to slay them.
Even Driftmark was not this beautiful. White sands and blue seas were nice, but this place reminded me more of home. Along the side of a dark river, not too busy, not bustling and even with the differences it still felt closer to my old home than Dragonstone could. Save for the sea.
I rode on, Balerion and Meraxes flying over the hill I'd been on not long ago on their continual circuit. Balerion lagged behind, and Meraxes spun. The sight of that made me feel sick. How can Rhaenys feel comfortable with that?
Perhaps my sister was simply mad. Maybe she liked the thrill of it. Maybe that's what got her ki- She won't. Not here. As the two flew off, this time straight out into the north end of the camps I averted my eyes from the sea. It seemed wrong, that a body of water could be big enough I couldn't see the other side of it. I knew that oceans existed, of course, and seas and even massive lakes but that wasn't the same. So close to it, the water seemed large enough to swallow me whole.
It made my heart ache all the more for home.
-------------------------------------------------------------
It begins in truth, now.
The Conquest had truly begun, the dragons were assembled, Meraxes and Vhagar nearest to us, and I and Rhaenys were to be the first to meet the enemy. To fight and kill just so Aegon could have a damn crown. He was willing to kill thousands just for his dream to rule over people who had never been asked.
And yet I remembered a little boy who came to the training yard at Dragonstone, a smile on his face and laughter easily coming from his lips even when covered in scrapes gained from an energetic 'duel' between him and me.. How father had fussed when he saw! I shook my head.
It was hard to reconcile that boy with the man I knew. What do you see in him, little sister?
I breathed in as the man broke from his embrace with my sister, both of them laughing happily. My heart ached at the sight. I wanted that. But never him. It isn't fair. I breathed out, my mail-clad hand no longer in a fist as I calmed myself.
"'Senya, come over here!" Rhaenys called, and I resisted the urge to shrug my shoulders as I walked over to her and Aegon. I would not shrug in public, it was not fitting for a woman of my standing.
"Yes, si-?" I asked simply, or, rather, tried to but before I could say anything I was cut off by Aegon's voice, clear and commanding as he spoke loudly at the men assembled at the high hill. From Vaeron to the sons of Lord Massey to my own cousins and the many men-at-arms and knights I did not know among them.
"Now is when this conquest of the seven kingdoms begins in earnest, and much as the blacksmith's work begins with a hammer stroke so too does that of my own great work. With the honor of the first blow going to my wives, my sisters, your queens!" With that last he grabbed a hand from Rhaenys and I in each of his hands and raised our arms.
I felt my heart race at his words, he spoke well, I can see why men might follow you. I wanted to blush and hide at the cheering his words stirred in the crowd. I almost didn't notice when he let our arms down.
"VICTORY TO THE ARCHON! GLORY TO THE ARCHONTISSAS!"
The words rang inside my head. I felt a smile form as I saw Rhaenys on the other side of Aegon. Her hair loose and free, readily smiling and looking as though she was born to this, despite her doubts about Aegon's ambitions. How does she do it?
She looked beautiful, even in armor, though maybe that was to be expected given the attire was more ceremonial and aesthetically pleasing than it was made for protection. What foe do we need to fear when we rule the skies? Rhaenys had said to me with a laugh when I brought up the idea of a helmet.
What foe indeed. My heart hurt when I thought of a scorpion bolt in Meraxes' eye, of Rhaenys dead or worse. I remembered the arrow wound the original Visenya took at the Field of Fire. I was drawn from my thoughts by the flash of sun reflecting off bright scales.
Rhaenys was already on Meraxes and ready to leave.
The fine bronze scales of the armor, the thinnish black undershirt beneath it matching the luxurious leather boots and trousers, and the scarlet cloak all served to provide a rather striking image. Atop Meraxes, her silver hair being blown in the breeze, she looked more a warrior-queen out of song than the warm sister I'd come to know better in the past month. That fierce image was broken for a moment by her waving down at us with a smile, even as she cracked the whip to get Meraxes moving.
Seeing Rhaenys fly off on Meraxes had me nervous, it was her task to bring Rosby to heel and my own was to put an end to any idea of Stokeworth resisting before they could even raise a levy. On the way we were to force the submission of the lesser lords and knights.
"I wish you luck, 'Senya." Aegon said, and though his words seemed sincere, I liked them not. You do not get to call me that. I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue. I hated that I didn't hate him as much as I did weeks before, I hated that I was unable to muster the same hate, and most of all I hated that I remembered the face of this vainglorious silver-haired heathen better than that of my own love or even my father. It's not fair that your faces are beginning to fade, and his is the one that haunts me.
"I will be back… at some time." I weakly replied. My voice sounded and felt oddly distant from me.
Grunting, I clambered onto Vhagar, whip in hand and shoved down the discomfort in my tummy at the thought of being in the sky again. Of being on the back of a beast larger than any animal I've ever seen aside from the other two dragons. Flashes of my first flight with Vhagar passed through my mind's eye. How can a girl of eight be braver than a woman of six and t-.. Twenty-six? She had picked the dragon because she was the smaller one, but she had still done more than I would have if I were her. And I am, now. I'm sorry.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and when I opened them I cracked the whip. Vhagar heard, and she knew by now what it meant.
Vhagar's movement as she pushed her powerful legs and beat her wings to achieve flight sent a shudder through me. It was less like riding a courser, let alone my palfrey Rochiril, and more like guiding a… I didn't even have words for it. It was like nothing I'd experienced before, a storm given form, a roller coaster gone off the rails, wild and yet controlled and it had felt like that the past three times I'd flown on her as well. The winds blew against my face and whipped my braid around and all I could think of was to not look down. Regardless of my curiosity. Which only made me do so.
Seeing the ground even for a moment from Vhagar's back had my stomach seeming to leap to my throat and then sink. Everything was so much smaller from high up, and the sky was vast and all I had supporting me was Vhagar underneath. Even the sea is safer than this!
Feelings of terror and comfort warred within me as I saw the passing farms, the rivers, and everything else dotted about as I got Vhagar to fly to Stokeworth.
In the end I clung close to the saddle, my face pressed to it nearly the whole time.
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The flight to Stokeworth, aside from my discomfort, was without incident and the few times I let myself peek out below I saw the lands fly past and would quickly hide my face once more as the queasiness and fear overpowered my curiosity. Don't look down.
My legs were tight against the saddle, as though it would somehow keep me better attached than the chains which were already there.
Riding a dragon was not like riding a horse at all, even with a whip it seemed more like I was guiding Vhagar with my mind more than with any rein or command. Perhaps there was some kind of genuine bond between dragonlords and dragons. It matched up with what the real Visenya remembered, certainly. But her knowledge of dragonlore was surprisingly non-mystical.
Why has Vhagar not eaten me, then? A dragon has only one rider, after all. I'm not her, is it because she's dead and Vhagar accepted me instead? Am I enough Visenya for her to accept me and whatever bond there is not to snap?
I did not know the answer.
As the castle came into sight from the horizon I realized Stokeworth's walls were nothing to write home about, and the castle itself wasn't so impressive really. It was sturdy, certainly, but I doubted it would take all that long to get the lord to submit.
Which was why I was surprised when not a few minutes later I had men trying to kill me when I swooped down on Vhagar, as I'd wanted a clean landing in front of the castle itself to accept the lord Stokeworth's surrender.
Men in chain byrnies, men with steel sallets covering their heads, men with crossbows and longbows loosing their bolts and arrows at me. My heart raced.
Damn them all. I thought to myself as a bolt nearly hit me square on the face, but instead whizzed past. Just barely missing me.
I saw red.
As though she felt my emotions, Vhagar roared and flew off eastwards from the castle, I did not care enough to avoid looking down, and all I felt was rage mingled with fear. My hands were close to shaking as I thought of the bolt. Dead. Dead with another woman's name and face. I breathed in and out, and strength filled my limbs again as I resolved to do what I had been afraid to do.
With Vhagar's wings beating powerfully I gave the command, and the bulk of this monster beneath me tensed as the fire built for release, I could almost swear I felt the heat rising from her scales and my heart clenched with dread.
Despite the arrows and the bolts and the men scurrying about, the moment seemed quiet, and I broke it in one breath. With a word that felt like bile in my throat just as it tasted like the sweetest Arbor gold.
"Dracarys," and the fire that had been held within the great beast erupted outwards from her terrible maw in one gout of flame, green with touches of gold swirling within it, and they coated the roof of that small castle and set ablaze the straw and the wood and the men who manned it.
Green flames danced and the stench of smoke and sulphur filled my nostrils, I thought the men would stink, but the fire was all I knew. The heat touching my cheeks, only countered by the light breeze which blew a few errant strands of hair across my face. I wanted to throw up.
Crossbowmen and archers who'd dared to stand against me screamed.
Valyria once ruled the world, it is time these dogs remembered who their masters are. A part of me took pleasure in it, and I realized that I had enjoyed it too and disgust mated with satisfaction all while my silver braid blew in the wind.
With Dark Sister drawn and raised in one hand and saddle-rein held in the other I laughed, laughed because it let out the complicated storm of feelings I had roaring inside me.
"Kneel to your betters, dogs!" By the gods, I wished for the secrets of my ancestors, to wield flame and set flame to running down the length of my steel blade. I would sound a horn and break their wills, I would gain power beyond that of any man alive, I wo- I would be a monster.
The thought haunted me even as I saw the men of the castle waving a banner of truce and desperately trying to put out the flames I had commanded Vhagar to set on them. The screams of the dead and dying were no longer glorious but horrible, and I wanted them to stop.
As the men walked out of the gates, another truce banner in hand, I flew off on Vhagar to make the rounds of the castle once more. In good shape, aside from the few light bits of fire damage here and there, it'll be fine soon enough. I was consoled by that knowledge, those men were active combatants, and the castle was not made an early Harrenhal.
That was the thought on my mind as I landed in front of the men to accept their surrender. Led by a plain looking man in his later years, his black hair peppered with grey and his brown eyes looking up at me upon Vhagar with a mix of fear and resignation, judging by his fine attire with the heraldry of Stokeworth clearly on it, I figured he must have been the lord.
I spoke first, loudly from Vhagar's back and as clear as I could.
"Kneel, and swear fealty to the Targaryens of Dragonstone. To I and my brother, and you shall remain lord over your lands." I gave the terms and saw the man I assumed to be the lord speak to a nearby man in gray robes, I assumed was his maester. A middle-aged man, and comically portly, but he held himself with pride as he spoke at me with a gravelly voice.
"My lord Stokeworth does not speak Valyrian, Lady Targaryen. If you know the Common, he would prefer that you spoke in it." The words made me wish I had a helmet, because I knew for sure my face must have been red with the mix of embarrassment and indignation I felt.
"M-my sincerest apologies, Lord. I only a-assumed that a man of means would at least know the language of culture and trade, rather than being limited to the tongues of the Andal barbarians." I wanted to kick myself at that last part, as the words left my mouth, I could see the men reacting poorly. Not violently, but they were clearly offended. Of course they are. Stammering and you insulted them. What a queen you are.
"Now, I will accept your fealty to my brother, and you will remain as lord of this land and be confirmed in your rights as your family has always held." Aegon's instructions, certainly, and I wished he hadn't given them.
The man knelt, his finery touching the dirt as he did, the truce banner dipping, and him offering his sword. I imagined it looked comical, given he was knelt before a dragon.
He gave oaths that I did not care enough to hear, aside from something about serving my family loyally from now until the end of time. I gave him a nod and spoke at him with a forced smile.
"Do you see? Not so difficult, is it?" I saw the men burning again in my mind's eye, "Now, you will go with your heir and your vassals and march south to give your fealty to my brother in person. He will accept your swords at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush, at the highest hill."
When he gave his final oaths, the smile I bore was no longer forced, and with a crack of a whip I sent Vhagar flying once more, her wings kicking up a small storm of dust and leaving men on the ground no doubt clearing their eyes.
We flew, this time back to the camp where this had begun. My heart light, and my entire being feeling warm as though I'd stepped into a hot bath. I'd done it, after all. I had made a proud man kneel, and with minimal deaths on his end. Did the original Visenya do so well?
I could not remember.
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Chapter Four: A Completely Pleasant Chat
The new scent of farmlands and orchards fat with fruit around various small towns seemed to fill my nostrils despite my only having landed near one an hour before to sate my curiosity.
I'd done naught but land yet my arrival had sent a number of people panicking and running toward the town gates. The people had been afraid.
Of me.
I hated it. So I left as quickly as possible.
Part of me enjoyed that fear, the knowledge that these backwards wretches at least knew how powerful I was when astride Vhagar. Another, what I felt like was the true me, only felt terrible about it and wanted to kick myself for not thinking before doing what I did.
Another part only remembered the dying men at Stokeworth. The screams of men burning alive.
Not that it mattered for long, as I had been back in the air soon after, and on my way back to the three hills. This time flying lower and trying to force myself to actually look down more often, if I was going to be a dragon rider, I couldn't just… be afraid of the skies. I can just see Rhaenys laughing at me if she knew.
It was hard, though. It wasn't just something I could snap my fingers and get rid of. That feeling of the sheer vastness of the open skies, of how insignificant I was on the back of Vhagar, of how the only thing keeping me from potentially falling to my death were the chains and my clinging to the saddle.
The feeling of my stomach sinking, then going up to my throat, the chill down my spine, how hard it was to breathe when I saw the ground from a great height… It just didn't stop. Will it ever? I tried to ignore that voice. I had to get better, I had to. What if I can't?
Instead of the passing lands, the height I was at, I thought of other happier things. It was nice to be lost in my thoughts. I barely even had to try to guide Vhagar to where I wanted her to go. I wondered how much of that was magic, and just dismissed it as not worth worrying about by the time I arrived back at camp.
In the late afternoon sun, a golden orb traveling the length of the partly cloudy reddish skies, I almost felt invigorated to return to somewhere familiar. It wasn't Dragonstone, and it certainly wasn't home, but it felt safe.
I took in the sights of the sun and skies over the sea. Of the ships in the bay, the villages in the shadow of old ruins and the hills. In an hour or two I could imagine there'd be a ruddy sunset over the green hills. If only I could use that banner. I would never see it in action now.
Men seemed to be done with their work for the time, and I swore that parts of the main camp were more built up than they had been when I left a few hours before. Meraxes was already there. Rhaenys finished first, then? Even if she hadn't, Meraxes was the faster flier and I was taking my sweet time getting back. Balerion was resting in the shadow of the high hill, and I felt a smile come to me at the sight.
Vhagar's bulk moved seemingly effortlessly with minimal need to guide her, I wasn't even sure if the whip crack and command did that much, as she seemed half in-sync with me, and while she flew to a clearing within the main camp I just idly swung my legs back and forth in the saddle, despite the chains. The movement calmed me, and while part of me wanted to shout that I had finished my task and done so with ease, another part just didn't feel in the mood to yell.
That part won out as I loosened and then removed the saddle chains. Already feeling mildly annoyed at the few men milling around asking if I required any assistance. What I wanted was for them to fuck off and let me be. That's not fair to them.
I wanted to ask if Aegon was busy, but the words wouldn't leave my throat. I didn't know whether it was because it was a dumb question, inappropriate to ask, or if I just didn't want to talk at the moment. So I didn't speak a word to the camp servants in their livery upon getting down from Vhagar.
Sunlight glinted off her green scales as I walked off to the outer 'wall' of the camp to find a place to think. I needed to figure things out, and unwind a bit. I yearned for the solitude of the skies, and yet the fear was still there. Mingled with the desire to fly. Why? Is this your fault, Visenya?
How much of me was even myself these days? I didn't want to become her. I didn't want to see others as lesser or to think burning castles or people was actually right. It's bad enough I'll die with your name on my gravestone.
At least I wouldn't have to worry about her rotting corpse being the last physical piece of me left in the world. We cremate our dead, after all. I wanted to laugh. We? I am not Valyrian! I tugged at my silver braid in frustration with a bare hand.
"Archontissa!" I wanted to scream at the man who'd spoken to me and I turned around to face him. He looked nervous, his eyes were a fairly vibrant blue, part of me noted.
"What is it? Tell me and go." I barely kept myself from yelling.
"Y-your brother, the Archon. He wished to see you upon your return." I felt my heart pump faster at his words, and balled my hand into a fist. I didn't bother replying, and calming myself with a breath or four, I walked off to the main tent.
I hadn't noticed just how busy and crowded the camps could be, with all the men brought over sea and others hired from among locals it seemed almost a small town of people scurrying about their tasks. The tents were houses, the palisades walls, the trodden dirt paths were roads and the soldiers were the town watch and guards.
Washerwomen went about their work the same as cooks and peasants selling their wares to soldiers. Though by this time in the day they were ready to leave for their homes, it seemed. No matter who was in my way, they quickly moved aside, and I was glad for it. I did not want them to make me snap.
My brother was waiting for me in the clearing I remember having taken off from earlier, guards flanking him and his hand resting easily on Blackfyre's hilt. My own hand went reflexively to Dark Sister, and I gulped ever so slightly.
He was clean-shaven as always, his silver hair neatly cut at the neck, and on his head he wore the leather fillet of a man at war, adorned with garnets and topaz gems catching the light of the sun such that I had to avert my eyes slightly. With his easy smile and fine features, part of me acknowledged that he was handsome, even if said smile was dimmed upon my arrival. I don't like you either.
A man who hadn't fought a single battle but he was garbed for war. His armor a blackened steel scale, like and yet unlike the bronze which Rhaenys and I wore, and it was worn over a black long-sleeved undershirt and short dark grey tunic trimmed with red. The stockings he wore were a similarly dark grey, complemented by black leather boots studded with red jewels. The outfit tied together by the cloak he wore, the same one he'd worn to our dinners, though with a different single-headed clasp and held together below the neck rather than at the shoulder.
I barely kept myself from stepping away when he stepped toward me, and then placed a hand upon my shoulder. You don't get to touch me! I feigned a smile, and I imagined his was just as false as mine. His hand moved to my arm and gripped firmly but not with too much force.
Reflexively, I balled my hand into a fist for a moment.
"Sister, you have returned. I am most glad that you claimed Stokeworth with haste!" He smiled wider, "And Rhaenys took Rosby with greater haste still! Come, we must feast together tonight. We have not spoken together since we left Dragonstone." I wanted to slap him, for comparing the speed of my conquest to that of Rhaenys. You should be glad you have me to help you at all. For a moment I saw a man, half covered in green flame, who'd jumped from the battlements of Stokeworth to his death on the ground below.
Not for the first time I wondered if perhaps I might just fly off somewhere else. Not for the first time, I realized I had no idea of what to do after that.
"Where is Orys?" I asked, hoping it might get him to talk about something else and let me go.
His grip loosened and I slipped from it. His hand resting back on Blackfyre's hilt once more. I started walking toward my own tent. He followed me, dismissing his guards and his next words were spoken in a more even tone.
"He is directing the men at the smallest hill, I sent him off when Rhaenys returned." My hill, then. I sighed. My tent, scarlet and gold in color, felt more to me like a home than anywhere else at the moment.
"Why did you send him there?" I asked, frustrated and breathing in and out softly.
As we stopped in front of the 'doorway' of my own tent he frowned, as if confused, "To save you the trouble of having to inspect the work of the men under your command. It is quite hard to dine with you and Rhaenys if one of you is busy elsewhere."
"So I do not have a choice, then? You have already decided for me. That you wish to eat with us, and that we will just do it because you want that." I wanted to say more, but bit my tongue.
"Do not be like that, 'Senya. I o-" I saw red.
"You do not have the privilege to call me that. Only Rhaenys, do you understand?" I was not his love, and I did not love him. I did not even care for him. Regardless of the tolerance I'd built up.
"Are you well, dear sister? You have been like this since we shared a bed at Driftmark." A sharp intake of breath was my way of trying to close out what I remembered. "You seemed even less enthusiastic than usual. Did I fail to satisfy you then?" He did not even wait for a response, shaking his head, "Perhaps..." He trailed off for a moment, then he smiled softly, his purple eyes staring straight into my own. I did not know a smile could seem cruel. "Might you be with child?" He asked, placing a hand on my mid-section.
I felt ill, the ghost of another touch flickered in my memory, he was only an inch taller, but he was larger than I, I remembered. How can you say this with a smile, you vile uncut mongrel.
"No, do you need to see my bloodied wraps?." Not that it was his business. The words made my skin crawl, admitting that to him. I feigned a neutral expression.
"That is a pity." Taking his hand off my belly, he frowned before that changed to the slight smile I was familiar with, "I am sure I will give you a child soon." He moved to touch my cheek and with nary a thought I gripped his wrists like a vise.
Blissfully, I caught sight of silver-scaled Meraxes flying in from the south over the horizon. South? I imagined that meant Rhaenys had gone for a bit of a joyride.
"Our sister is returned." I forced a smile, letting his wrists go, and he turned to face the skies with a wider smile than he'd graced me with as he saw Meraxes. Her silver scales were brilliant even from where we stood.
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I'd done naught but land yet my arrival had sent a number of people panicking and running toward the town gates. The people had been afraid.
Of me.
I hated it. So I left as quickly as possible.
Part of me enjoyed that fear, the knowledge that these backwards wretches at least knew how powerful I was when astride Vhagar. Another, what I felt like was the true me, only felt terrible about it and wanted to kick myself for not thinking before doing what I did.
Another part only remembered the dying men at Stokeworth. The screams of men burning alive.
Not that it mattered for long, as I had been back in the air soon after, and on my way back to the three hills. This time flying lower and trying to force myself to actually look down more often, if I was going to be a dragon rider, I couldn't just… be afraid of the skies. I can just see Rhaenys laughing at me if she knew.
It was hard, though. It wasn't just something I could snap my fingers and get rid of. That feeling of the sheer vastness of the open skies, of how insignificant I was on the back of Vhagar, of how the only thing keeping me from potentially falling to my death were the chains and my clinging to the saddle.
The feeling of my stomach sinking, then going up to my throat, the chill down my spine, how hard it was to breathe when I saw the ground from a great height… It just didn't stop. Will it ever? I tried to ignore that voice. I had to get better, I had to. What if I can't?
Instead of the passing lands, the height I was at, I thought of other happier things. It was nice to be lost in my thoughts. I barely even had to try to guide Vhagar to where I wanted her to go. I wondered how much of that was magic, and just dismissed it as not worth worrying about by the time I arrived back at camp.
In the late afternoon sun, a golden orb traveling the length of the partly cloudy reddish skies, I almost felt invigorated to return to somewhere familiar. It wasn't Dragonstone, and it certainly wasn't home, but it felt safe.
I took in the sights of the sun and skies over the sea. Of the ships in the bay, the villages in the shadow of old ruins and the hills. In an hour or two I could imagine there'd be a ruddy sunset over the green hills. If only I could use that banner. I would never see it in action now.
Men seemed to be done with their work for the time, and I swore that parts of the main camp were more built up than they had been when I left a few hours before. Meraxes was already there. Rhaenys finished first, then? Even if she hadn't, Meraxes was the faster flier and I was taking my sweet time getting back. Balerion was resting in the shadow of the high hill, and I felt a smile come to me at the sight.
Vhagar's bulk moved seemingly effortlessly with minimal need to guide her, I wasn't even sure if the whip crack and command did that much, as she seemed half in-sync with me, and while she flew to a clearing within the main camp I just idly swung my legs back and forth in the saddle, despite the chains. The movement calmed me, and while part of me wanted to shout that I had finished my task and done so with ease, another part just didn't feel in the mood to yell.
That part won out as I loosened and then removed the saddle chains. Already feeling mildly annoyed at the few men milling around asking if I required any assistance. What I wanted was for them to fuck off and let me be. That's not fair to them.
I wanted to ask if Aegon was busy, but the words wouldn't leave my throat. I didn't know whether it was because it was a dumb question, inappropriate to ask, or if I just didn't want to talk at the moment. So I didn't speak a word to the camp servants in their livery upon getting down from Vhagar.
Sunlight glinted off her green scales as I walked off to the outer 'wall' of the camp to find a place to think. I needed to figure things out, and unwind a bit. I yearned for the solitude of the skies, and yet the fear was still there. Mingled with the desire to fly. Why? Is this your fault, Visenya?
How much of me was even myself these days? I didn't want to become her. I didn't want to see others as lesser or to think burning castles or people was actually right. It's bad enough I'll die with your name on my gravestone.
At least I wouldn't have to worry about her rotting corpse being the last physical piece of me left in the world. We cremate our dead, after all. I wanted to laugh. We? I am not Valyrian! I tugged at my silver braid in frustration with a bare hand.
"Archontissa!" I wanted to scream at the man who'd spoken to me and I turned around to face him. He looked nervous, his eyes were a fairly vibrant blue, part of me noted.
"What is it? Tell me and go." I barely kept myself from yelling.
"Y-your brother, the Archon. He wished to see you upon your return." I felt my heart pump faster at his words, and balled my hand into a fist. I didn't bother replying, and calming myself with a breath or four, I walked off to the main tent.
I hadn't noticed just how busy and crowded the camps could be, with all the men brought over sea and others hired from among locals it seemed almost a small town of people scurrying about their tasks. The tents were houses, the palisades walls, the trodden dirt paths were roads and the soldiers were the town watch and guards.
Washerwomen went about their work the same as cooks and peasants selling their wares to soldiers. Though by this time in the day they were ready to leave for their homes, it seemed. No matter who was in my way, they quickly moved aside, and I was glad for it. I did not want them to make me snap.
My brother was waiting for me in the clearing I remember having taken off from earlier, guards flanking him and his hand resting easily on Blackfyre's hilt. My own hand went reflexively to Dark Sister, and I gulped ever so slightly.
He was clean-shaven as always, his silver hair neatly cut at the neck, and on his head he wore the leather fillet of a man at war, adorned with garnets and topaz gems catching the light of the sun such that I had to avert my eyes slightly. With his easy smile and fine features, part of me acknowledged that he was handsome, even if said smile was dimmed upon my arrival. I don't like you either.
A man who hadn't fought a single battle but he was garbed for war. His armor a blackened steel scale, like and yet unlike the bronze which Rhaenys and I wore, and it was worn over a black long-sleeved undershirt and short dark grey tunic trimmed with red. The stockings he wore were a similarly dark grey, complemented by black leather boots studded with red jewels. The outfit tied together by the cloak he wore, the same one he'd worn to our dinners, though with a different single-headed clasp and held together below the neck rather than at the shoulder.
I barely kept myself from stepping away when he stepped toward me, and then placed a hand upon my shoulder. You don't get to touch me! I feigned a smile, and I imagined his was just as false as mine. His hand moved to my arm and gripped firmly but not with too much force.
Reflexively, I balled my hand into a fist for a moment.
"Sister, you have returned. I am most glad that you claimed Stokeworth with haste!" He smiled wider, "And Rhaenys took Rosby with greater haste still! Come, we must feast together tonight. We have not spoken together since we left Dragonstone." I wanted to slap him, for comparing the speed of my conquest to that of Rhaenys. You should be glad you have me to help you at all. For a moment I saw a man, half covered in green flame, who'd jumped from the battlements of Stokeworth to his death on the ground below.
Not for the first time I wondered if perhaps I might just fly off somewhere else. Not for the first time, I realized I had no idea of what to do after that.
"Where is Orys?" I asked, hoping it might get him to talk about something else and let me go.
His grip loosened and I slipped from it. His hand resting back on Blackfyre's hilt once more. I started walking toward my own tent. He followed me, dismissing his guards and his next words were spoken in a more even tone.
"He is directing the men at the smallest hill, I sent him off when Rhaenys returned." My hill, then. I sighed. My tent, scarlet and gold in color, felt more to me like a home than anywhere else at the moment.
"Why did you send him there?" I asked, frustrated and breathing in and out softly.
As we stopped in front of the 'doorway' of my own tent he frowned, as if confused, "To save you the trouble of having to inspect the work of the men under your command. It is quite hard to dine with you and Rhaenys if one of you is busy elsewhere."
"So I do not have a choice, then? You have already decided for me. That you wish to eat with us, and that we will just do it because you want that." I wanted to say more, but bit my tongue.
"Do not be like that, 'Senya. I o-" I saw red.
"You do not have the privilege to call me that. Only Rhaenys, do you understand?" I was not his love, and I did not love him. I did not even care for him. Regardless of the tolerance I'd built up.
"Are you well, dear sister? You have been like this since we shared a bed at Driftmark." A sharp intake of breath was my way of trying to close out what I remembered. "You seemed even less enthusiastic than usual. Did I fail to satisfy you then?" He did not even wait for a response, shaking his head, "Perhaps..." He trailed off for a moment, then he smiled softly, his purple eyes staring straight into my own. I did not know a smile could seem cruel. "Might you be with child?" He asked, placing a hand on my mid-section.
I felt ill, the ghost of another touch flickered in my memory, he was only an inch taller, but he was larger than I, I remembered. How can you say this with a smile, you vile uncut mongrel.
"No, do you need to see my bloodied wraps?." Not that it was his business. The words made my skin crawl, admitting that to him. I feigned a neutral expression.
"That is a pity." Taking his hand off my belly, he frowned before that changed to the slight smile I was familiar with, "I am sure I will give you a child soon." He moved to touch my cheek and with nary a thought I gripped his wrists like a vise.
Blissfully, I caught sight of silver-scaled Meraxes flying in from the south over the horizon. South? I imagined that meant Rhaenys had gone for a bit of a joyride.
"Our sister is returned." I forced a smile, letting his wrists go, and he turned to face the skies with a wider smile than he'd graced me with as he saw Meraxes. Her silver scales were brilliant even from where we stood.
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Chapter Five: Drinks and a Meeting
"To everlasting victory!"
I laughed as our glasses clinked together and I downed my fifth glass of wine. Tonight, I had let myself actually try wine, it was Rhaenys' idea to mix a fine undiluted Arbor red with a watered down yellow wine from New Ghis, and it tasted… sweet and sour at the same time. Rich like no juice I'd ever had, and part of me realized I'd missed this. My worries had flowed away with the wine as it went down. Sweeter than honey.
It had been two days since I arrived back at Aegon's glorified army camp he and his men called his "Aegonfort". Palisades had been raised, and though the beginnings of an actual central structure had been completed, the "keep" as we called it was just the command tent belonging to Aegon. Not far from my own, it was a pavilion of purple and scarlet and gold silk, with fine rugs and carpets and all the amenities one could have away from home while at war.
Even at night it was lovely inside, well-lit with lanterns and carefully placed candles casting our shadows and that of various objects against the walls and floor of the tent.
"Tell us about your plans, little brother! You'll have your lords here, and then what?" I laughed as he flashed a smile and raised a closed hand with the index finger pointing skyward. Then brought his hands back down and swept them forward and out, knocking over an empty wine glass.
"We'll have my coronation, here, on the mouth of the Blackwater. In full view of the Westerosi lords and peasants. A king needs an audience, after all." He laughed, and I laughed too. He seemed handsome enough tonight, I almost forgot what he was.
Rhaenys was tidying her hair a tad, brushing a stray strand from out of her face. "Kings need titles too." She downed a half-glass of wine, how many was that now? I couldn't recall. I probably had had more than her, though.
"King of Westeros, maybe. No, for certain." Aegon mumbled loudly.
I chimed in, "King of Kings, there's a fine title, brother!" In my mind's eye I saw him dressed like some kind of Sassanid shah, and I stifled a giggle.
"No, there will be no kings but me. Westerosi kings will bow to me and be lords or be slain and replaced with those who will behave, and that is that." He looked like he was keeping himself composed. I wonder if my face is as flushed as his. I giggled, unable to contain it this time.
"What's so funny, 'Senya?" Rhaenys asked, her long silver hair hanging freely in ringlets, she'd had her hair done today. I liked it a lot. It looked wonderful with the clothes she wore, a silken scarlet shirt with embroidered cuffs and black trousers in the Westerosi style. She wore red shoes with them.
"N-nothing. Just thought of Aegon dressed up like some Yi-Tish Emperor." I lied. When did lying become so easy? I frowned, feeling bad, so I drank a bit more wine.
Aegon looked like he was thinking about it, and laughed. His laugh wasn't so bad. Rhaenys laughed with him.
"I think you'd have looked better in a dress, little sister. Lavender, perhaps. It would fit your lilac eyes better." It really did, or so the image in my mind showed. Dazzling and radiant, I wished I could be like that.
I swirled my drink around and sipped at it. My head dizzier than I remembered it being. I'm probably just buzzed. Giggles burst from me again at the idea. Me. Buzzed. Me drinking at all was funny. What would he think if he could see me? I giggled even more, at the image of my father seeing me as I am now. It'd be awkward as hell.
"So, King of Kings?" I asked after calming myself down.
"No, Visenya, I can not let these Westerosi get ideas. King of Kings, would be saying they are Kings." He shook his head, as if dismissing the very idea completely. His hands at his side, dusting at his cloak, at something I couldn't see. Maybe he got food on himself?
"You do not have to make them kings, it is just a title. Great King, perhaps?" I thought of Cyrus the Great and other rulers from my home's history. G-d, my head felt fuzzy. "It sounds a fine title indeed. High King?" I hummed to myself.
"Why are you so set on this title, sister? I said no already, that should be that." I frowned at him, and breathed in and out slightly. Why does he make things so difficult?
"It is a good title, it is not my fault you could not find a good name even were it to bite you in the ass." I smiled, drinking more and enjoying every drop as they slid down my throat. "Aegonfort? Pfft, that sounds like the name of some little boy's hiding spot. Dumb as shit."
"That was not my name, the men came up with it, I only let them have it." He clenched his fist. A scowl clear on his face. I smiled at him, it felt good.
"So you let a bunch of workmen tell you what to do, but you won't let me give you an actually good name? Of course, what can I expect from you? Taking what you want, and not caring about what others say except when it suits you!" I wanted to slap him, and I didn't know when I'd stood up, the world felt uneven, and I felt slightly sick. Even worse when I felt a pair of hands on me, holding me, and saw they were Aegon's.
"Let go of me!" I frantically pulled, but his grip was stronger than my own, he was stronger than me. I remembered the brush of his lips from back then and I wanted to run, I felt like I was going to wet myself until another hand touched me, on my shoulder, and that calmed me.
It was Rhaenys, and Aegon had let go of me. Rhaenys was holding one of my hands.
I looked down at the glass and with my free hand knocked it off the table. "Your fault."
"'Senya, it is not the fault of the wine that you drank so much." I wanted to scowl at Rhaenys. How dare she take his side. "It is late, and we all need rest." She said, sounding exasperated. I sighed, and clung to the only stable thing in this wobbling world I found myself in.
She dragged me out of the tent, the starlight and moon in the sky lighting the way, I still couldn't get over how clear these skies were. It was truly beautiful. A thousand thousand little lights in the sky, and I felt tears come to my eye at it even as Rhaenys guided me by the arm.
"I'm sorry, I drank too much." I wanted to cry, I felt horrible, "I'm pathetic, Rhaenys. I c-can't even keep a promise not to drink, I'm s-so-" I sicked up, and then again.
Everything was a blur.
So it wasn't a surprise that I smiled when I found myself resting on what felt like the most wonderful thing after being taken to my tent. I assumed it was my own bed. My tummy still hurting slightly, and shaking my head felt uncomfortable.
I barely noticed when darkness claimed me.
------------------------------------
I woke up with the worst headache I could remember having. My tongue was as dry as sandpaper and hanging out and a foul taste on it. The dulled muffled sound of boots on the ground outside filled my head.
I didn't want to open my eyes. My cheeks were hot and my stomach felt as though if I were to move it would roll out on its own. I wanted to fucking die. It's only been two weeks… I can't be dealing with that again. It was different too. Instead of a cold hook in my stomach it was more like a little ship in a storm.
"What the fuck happened…" The words made my head hurt more, but I blew air into my nose, and wanted to throw up at the smell. My limbs felt like they were made of lead, but I dragged myself out from my covers and bed.
Naked? I didn't remember undressing myself the night before. I didn't remember much of anything about the previous night, and normally I dressed in some kind of sleepwear.
My feet touched the comfortable floor of the tent, the carpet and rugs helping sell an illusion that this was something other than a temporary abode. A scent reminded me that I had barely eaten the day before, as far as I could recall.
Opening my eyes I saw the silken walls of my tent. It was still strange to see, and on a nearby stand there was a pitcher of water. Beads of condensation covering its silvery surface. It looked like the finest drink in all the world. Especially when paired with the slices of beef roast, mullet fish, a wedge of cheese and a few thick slices of bread with a side of butter, all on a fine bronze tray.
If it weren't already dried out I imagined my mouth would be watering.
So I drank from a silver cup. Trying to let my head settle, I hadn't had a headache like this since before I'd woken up at Driftmark what seemed years ago right now. I missed my pills. Some thoughts flowed in, memories of what kind of herbs and powder mixes might be used to relieve pain. "I don't know what I'd do without your knowledge of medicine. Ask the physician I suppose." I laughed softly, even as the noise made the pain flare up.
Looking in a nearby mirror of polished silver I saw a woman who looked as bad as I felt. Her hair a mess, her cheeks tinged red and yet her face sickly pale, purple eyes barely focused. That's you. The thought that had come to me every time I'd seen my reflection. "Let's have you cleaned up." I mumbled, then letting more water go down my throat to wash down my meal after I was done.
A wash basin was set out and ready, and while it wasn't the equal of a bath by any means it worked well enough that I could at least clean myself up to face the world without feeling like a completely vile mess.
I summoned and let a servant, a pretty enough young woman, barely more than a girl really, handle my hair. Part of me was surprised at just how used to them aiding me in basic things like that I had become. You're a noblewoman, this is just how things are. I reminded myself, wringing my washed hands.
Dressed in a deep purple linen robe with gold banding below the neck, above the elbow, and the wrists, and gold-trimmed purple shawl draped over my shoulders, I left my tent, two men I didn't recognize guarding the entrance, though I paid them little mind. In the fine robe, I felt almost out of place at the camps. My red shoe clad feet made practically no noise with each step.
I squinted when the first rays of the midday sun hit my eyes, sending a new wave of pain like daggers stabbing behind my eyes. The only comfort was the cool breeze against my face.
The central camp had further walls erected, and the beginnings of a wooden castle were being laid at the center itself nearest Aegon's tent. That would be the Aegonfort itself, I think.
I frowned, I wouldn't let it take decades for a proper palace to be built, and if I had my way the city wouldn't be nearly as much of a mess. Maybe they'll remember me for it. Visions of wide main streets and open marketplaces surrounded by colonnaded buildings, grand aqueducts bringing in water and the city enclosed within strong walls white and gleaming beneath a warm sun filled my mind. For a moment I could see it as if it were truly there, before the familiar hiss of a dragon broke me from my daydream.
What seemed a hundred feet to my left Vhagar was eating some recently roasted bull, green scales reflecting the bright sun and that same distance to my right lay Meraxes content and sleeping, her scales even more dazzling than my Vhagar's.
I felt bad for admitting it. It is not as though Vhagar isn't beautiful. But like her rider compared to me, she just was… prettier, in a way I couldn't define.
As the men and women of the camp worked and went about their tasks, both in the center command camp and those I knew were going on in the other hills, it really did seem more a ramshackle town than a base for war, and though I knew it was not the first time I had noticed it, it was not something that was easy to really… grasp. That men who were doing drills and laughing when they were done, and eating and drinking like it was a normal day would gladly kill others tomorrow if it meant the chance for plunder and personal glory.
Soldiers are scum. I sighed. It is not as though I am any better. I burned men alive. I killed them. And for what? Because I was told to? I hate him, and yet I do as he orders me to. Why? I did not like the answer.
I glanced back to Meraxes. Rhaenys would normally be out flying at this time. At least, that's what she'd done the past few days. Is she well? Part of me thought she was probably with Aegon, then.
So I asked a man at Aegon's own tent if he had seen her with him today perhaps. I was informed that there was a meeting of the lords going on in Aegon's tent.
A meeting. That I hadn't been summoned to.
Part of me bristled at the insult, until I calmed myself. You were hung over. Asleep until well past dawn. Why would you be summoned? I wondered if I might have said something foolish, if I was so drunk the night before that I couldn't remember much of anything. Perhaps I wasn't invited because I had somehow angered everyone else.
My heart pounded in my chest. Did I tell that? I breathed in and out until my heartbeat slowed, even as I stood near to the entrance of Aegon's pavilion. No, if I had, I most certainly wouldn't have been left as free as I was. I'd be locked up. My feet dragged lightly on the grass, the sun hung in the blue sky, golden and shining. What if they do know? If I did say it. If they're discussing how to handle me right now. If I'm too valuable to throw away because of Vhagar. I could see the accusing stare of Rhaenys in my mind. I can't lose you. I felt tugs at the edges of my eyes.
Aegon's tent seemed to cast a larger shadow than it had before.
They might not be expecting you. If there's any clues to be had, you'll find them now. Better now, than when Aegon came and had me thrown in chains for killing his sister and traipsing about in her skin.
My hand on the curtain, I released a breath I hadn't known I had taken and entered into the dragon's den.
"-'s why I have you, Lord Velaryon. Your ships and those of our good Kasereon." Came the voice of Aegon. Smooth and confident as it always was.
The scent of incense was faint, but it was there. As well, candles lit the tent.
A moment later, I realized all eyes were on me and I wanted to hide under a rock. But the part of me that was the real Visenya refused to feel like a skittish child. I found myself standing proudly, tall, as if my head wasn't aching and I hadn't interrupted a meeting I hadn't even been invited to. My braid hung over my shoulder, and I turned a purple eyed gaze over the assembled group. Everyone from Vaeron to Orys was at the table.
Rhaenys was dressed for war as she had been when we had both left days before, though not wearing a scarf. Her expression was not one I could easily read. What did I say last night? I shoved down the feeling of unease.
My… Visenya's uncle, his lilac eyes untouched by any surprise, looked bored, as if my entrance was not worth noting beyond courtesy. Touching a knuckle to his forehead in lieu of bowing his head. You should be kissing the hem of my robe. A part of me wanted to say that out loud. I looked past him to my b- Aegon.
He seemed unphased, worse he seemed almost happy and beckoned me over to the table. On which was set a number of maps.
"Visenya, it is good that you are here." He said, as I walked over to look at whatever it was to sate my curiosity.
"Is that so?" I tried to keep my tone even and neutral.
He just gave me that smile again and laughed. "You have always had the better mind for strategy, sister. Tell me, what do you think our host should do?"
I tilted my head. "Why are you asking?"
He waved his hand almost absently, "A force of five-thousand swords rides to meet us. It seems these Westerosi think to drive us from their shores."
"I could handle five-thousand on Vhagar alone. Is that what your plan is?" Send me out to see if I'm loyal?
"No, Orys will lure them with a detachment from our host and I will show them the maw of Balerion himself." He smiled, looking almost excited at the prospect. Candlelight seemed to dance in his eyes. Just like… I almost dreaded it by now. How things had gone seemingly on-script.
"Lords Darklyn and Mooton?" I asked, and then wanted to kick myself when both recognition and confusion touched Aegon's features.
Aegon glanced at Vaeron with the slightest hint of annoyance, and the youngest Celtigar seemed to almost shrink where he stood. Left hand barely kept from tugging at his sleeve.
"It was not him, Aegon. Leave him out of this." I snapped, not caring that with how sharply I said the words it made my head hurt.
"Archon, I beg your leave." Orys' voice piped up as he bowed his head. He was all courtesies of course, with Aegon. Fucking toady.
My trueborn brother sighed and… shook his head.
"No, I will not have this meeting disrupted so. You will stay, and we will all speak politely. There will be no argument, this I say as Archon of Dragonstone and the lawful head of the Targaryen family." He raised his hand up and then directed me to stand beside our uncle.
I didn't have to listen, of course. So I stood nearer to Aethon instead. Noting that the cloak he bore seemed new, as I hadn't seen it when we were at Driftmark. Black silk, but with silver trim along the edges and embroidered with wave shapes at the bottom. One of these days, I'll get a new cloak.
The silence stretched on for what felt like a minute before my cousin glanced to my uncle, and then back.
"You want us to take the fleet to Duskendale and put it under a blockade while you and Orys put these Sunset lords to rout?" He offered.
"I will have Visenya go with you to deliver news of the defeat of this host to Duskendale, and you will take the ships that are there and return to us within the week." Before Aethon could say another word, Aegon raised a hand and spoke again, "You have ten days, if the winds are not favorable."
"I am not your errand-girl, Aegon." I don't want to do what she did. Why couldn't he have Rhaenys do it instead?
"You are, however, a Targaryen." And he was the head of our household, even if legally, it would be shared. Balerion put any real arguments to rest.
I sighed in response, and looked down at the map. It was fairly detailed, all told. I guess that makes sense, given the Painted Table.. And the fact that dragons exist. It wasn't a modern map by any means, but I could tell the rough area it was supposed to be between where we were and Crackclaw Point.
"Five-thousand swords, you said?" I frowned, and resisted the urge to sigh and wash my hands of this. I will not let him drive me from here, not in front of everyone. I could see how I would be mocked if I left. Aegon may have been Archon, but he was not my king.
"Two-thousand horse both heavy and light, in fact. Three-thousand footmen, or near as to not make a difference. I assume they hired mercenaries to supplement their numbers, no man would be so foolish as to leave his lands undefended." Aegon said casually, yet with a hint of expectation.
I ran my hand across the map's surface, not paying attention to others, trying to picture it; five-thousand men marching across the lands I'd seen from dragonback days ago. Names of castles and towns were written along the map in Common. Some I recalled, others I didn't know if they'd been mentioned in the books, or if knowing them was a case of Visenya knowing and not me. Nevton, Greyfort, Ramshorn, Hayford…
I bit my lip, and tried to avoid glancing up at anyone. The unshaved face of Orys flashed in my mind as I touched a stone meant to mark the presumed location of the enemy, maybe thirty miles south of Duskendale itself as of now.
"I would let them march to here." I pointed at an area north of Rosby, clear of trees, flat plains mostly not far from the coast. "Bring the Lords Rosby and Stokeworth into the fold through battle on your side, wield their men in addition to your own as a reserve. Especially the horses. Bring them in from the sides and north if possible."
"So you would have us… simply outnumber them, then? What then, would you surround them with our greater numbers?" I didn't know if it was Aegon or Aethon who spoke, they might as well have been the same half-buzz in that moment.
I shook my head in response. "No, not surround them. If they're surrounded they will get desperate, and fight all the harder. It might even incentivize our new vassals to turn on your men for the hope of an easy victory through surprise." I rubbed my thumb, index and middle fingers together out of habit. "Leave them a way out, and they will take it. Then close the trap when they are in disarray. Harry the retreating men with our lighter horse. Regardless, that is what I would do." Something about imagining directing a battle, was just… nicer, than having to fight one. If some dragon horns were used to control men, were they ever wielded for the purpose of directing them with a single will in battle?
"Not that it matters, truly. I have Balerion, and they do not. But were we to fight as beasts of the field do, I might indeed take that into advisement." Whatever pride I'd built up in the past few minutes deflated with that single pinprick.
My hands retreated slightly into the sleeves of my robe as I fought back the urge to verbally chew his head off.
"Still, your tactical acumen is why I trust you to return safely with our fleet and take Duskendale itself easily." I could almost feel the smugness radiating off him. "You will leave in the early morning." He said, with that damnable tone of finality. I wanted to punch him.
Looking up, I didn't even bother doing more than muttering a few niceties before leaving the tent to seek out my dragon. My Vhagar. I didn't care that I was afraid of heights, I only wanted to get away for a few hours.
And so I did.
I laughed as our glasses clinked together and I downed my fifth glass of wine. Tonight, I had let myself actually try wine, it was Rhaenys' idea to mix a fine undiluted Arbor red with a watered down yellow wine from New Ghis, and it tasted… sweet and sour at the same time. Rich like no juice I'd ever had, and part of me realized I'd missed this. My worries had flowed away with the wine as it went down. Sweeter than honey.
It had been two days since I arrived back at Aegon's glorified army camp he and his men called his "Aegonfort". Palisades had been raised, and though the beginnings of an actual central structure had been completed, the "keep" as we called it was just the command tent belonging to Aegon. Not far from my own, it was a pavilion of purple and scarlet and gold silk, with fine rugs and carpets and all the amenities one could have away from home while at war.
Even at night it was lovely inside, well-lit with lanterns and carefully placed candles casting our shadows and that of various objects against the walls and floor of the tent.
"Tell us about your plans, little brother! You'll have your lords here, and then what?" I laughed as he flashed a smile and raised a closed hand with the index finger pointing skyward. Then brought his hands back down and swept them forward and out, knocking over an empty wine glass.
"We'll have my coronation, here, on the mouth of the Blackwater. In full view of the Westerosi lords and peasants. A king needs an audience, after all." He laughed, and I laughed too. He seemed handsome enough tonight, I almost forgot what he was.
Rhaenys was tidying her hair a tad, brushing a stray strand from out of her face. "Kings need titles too." She downed a half-glass of wine, how many was that now? I couldn't recall. I probably had had more than her, though.
"King of Westeros, maybe. No, for certain." Aegon mumbled loudly.
I chimed in, "King of Kings, there's a fine title, brother!" In my mind's eye I saw him dressed like some kind of Sassanid shah, and I stifled a giggle.
"No, there will be no kings but me. Westerosi kings will bow to me and be lords or be slain and replaced with those who will behave, and that is that." He looked like he was keeping himself composed. I wonder if my face is as flushed as his. I giggled, unable to contain it this time.
"What's so funny, 'Senya?" Rhaenys asked, her long silver hair hanging freely in ringlets, she'd had her hair done today. I liked it a lot. It looked wonderful with the clothes she wore, a silken scarlet shirt with embroidered cuffs and black trousers in the Westerosi style. She wore red shoes with them.
"N-nothing. Just thought of Aegon dressed up like some Yi-Tish Emperor." I lied. When did lying become so easy? I frowned, feeling bad, so I drank a bit more wine.
Aegon looked like he was thinking about it, and laughed. His laugh wasn't so bad. Rhaenys laughed with him.
"I think you'd have looked better in a dress, little sister. Lavender, perhaps. It would fit your lilac eyes better." It really did, or so the image in my mind showed. Dazzling and radiant, I wished I could be like that.
I swirled my drink around and sipped at it. My head dizzier than I remembered it being. I'm probably just buzzed. Giggles burst from me again at the idea. Me. Buzzed. Me drinking at all was funny. What would he think if he could see me? I giggled even more, at the image of my father seeing me as I am now. It'd be awkward as hell.
"So, King of Kings?" I asked after calming myself down.
"No, Visenya, I can not let these Westerosi get ideas. King of Kings, would be saying they are Kings." He shook his head, as if dismissing the very idea completely. His hands at his side, dusting at his cloak, at something I couldn't see. Maybe he got food on himself?
"You do not have to make them kings, it is just a title. Great King, perhaps?" I thought of Cyrus the Great and other rulers from my home's history. G-d, my head felt fuzzy. "It sounds a fine title indeed. High King?" I hummed to myself.
"Why are you so set on this title, sister? I said no already, that should be that." I frowned at him, and breathed in and out slightly. Why does he make things so difficult?
"It is a good title, it is not my fault you could not find a good name even were it to bite you in the ass." I smiled, drinking more and enjoying every drop as they slid down my throat. "Aegonfort? Pfft, that sounds like the name of some little boy's hiding spot. Dumb as shit."
"That was not my name, the men came up with it, I only let them have it." He clenched his fist. A scowl clear on his face. I smiled at him, it felt good.
"So you let a bunch of workmen tell you what to do, but you won't let me give you an actually good name? Of course, what can I expect from you? Taking what you want, and not caring about what others say except when it suits you!" I wanted to slap him, and I didn't know when I'd stood up, the world felt uneven, and I felt slightly sick. Even worse when I felt a pair of hands on me, holding me, and saw they were Aegon's.
"Let go of me!" I frantically pulled, but his grip was stronger than my own, he was stronger than me. I remembered the brush of his lips from back then and I wanted to run, I felt like I was going to wet myself until another hand touched me, on my shoulder, and that calmed me.
It was Rhaenys, and Aegon had let go of me. Rhaenys was holding one of my hands.
I looked down at the glass and with my free hand knocked it off the table. "Your fault."
"'Senya, it is not the fault of the wine that you drank so much." I wanted to scowl at Rhaenys. How dare she take his side. "It is late, and we all need rest." She said, sounding exasperated. I sighed, and clung to the only stable thing in this wobbling world I found myself in.
She dragged me out of the tent, the starlight and moon in the sky lighting the way, I still couldn't get over how clear these skies were. It was truly beautiful. A thousand thousand little lights in the sky, and I felt tears come to my eye at it even as Rhaenys guided me by the arm.
"I'm sorry, I drank too much." I wanted to cry, I felt horrible, "I'm pathetic, Rhaenys. I c-can't even keep a promise not to drink, I'm s-so-" I sicked up, and then again.
Everything was a blur.
So it wasn't a surprise that I smiled when I found myself resting on what felt like the most wonderful thing after being taken to my tent. I assumed it was my own bed. My tummy still hurting slightly, and shaking my head felt uncomfortable.
I barely noticed when darkness claimed me.
------------------------------------
I woke up with the worst headache I could remember having. My tongue was as dry as sandpaper and hanging out and a foul taste on it. The dulled muffled sound of boots on the ground outside filled my head.
I didn't want to open my eyes. My cheeks were hot and my stomach felt as though if I were to move it would roll out on its own. I wanted to fucking die. It's only been two weeks… I can't be dealing with that again. It was different too. Instead of a cold hook in my stomach it was more like a little ship in a storm.
"What the fuck happened…" The words made my head hurt more, but I blew air into my nose, and wanted to throw up at the smell. My limbs felt like they were made of lead, but I dragged myself out from my covers and bed.
Naked? I didn't remember undressing myself the night before. I didn't remember much of anything about the previous night, and normally I dressed in some kind of sleepwear.
My feet touched the comfortable floor of the tent, the carpet and rugs helping sell an illusion that this was something other than a temporary abode. A scent reminded me that I had barely eaten the day before, as far as I could recall.
Opening my eyes I saw the silken walls of my tent. It was still strange to see, and on a nearby stand there was a pitcher of water. Beads of condensation covering its silvery surface. It looked like the finest drink in all the world. Especially when paired with the slices of beef roast, mullet fish, a wedge of cheese and a few thick slices of bread with a side of butter, all on a fine bronze tray.
If it weren't already dried out I imagined my mouth would be watering.
So I drank from a silver cup. Trying to let my head settle, I hadn't had a headache like this since before I'd woken up at Driftmark what seemed years ago right now. I missed my pills. Some thoughts flowed in, memories of what kind of herbs and powder mixes might be used to relieve pain. "I don't know what I'd do without your knowledge of medicine. Ask the physician I suppose." I laughed softly, even as the noise made the pain flare up.
Looking in a nearby mirror of polished silver I saw a woman who looked as bad as I felt. Her hair a mess, her cheeks tinged red and yet her face sickly pale, purple eyes barely focused. That's you. The thought that had come to me every time I'd seen my reflection. "Let's have you cleaned up." I mumbled, then letting more water go down my throat to wash down my meal after I was done.
A wash basin was set out and ready, and while it wasn't the equal of a bath by any means it worked well enough that I could at least clean myself up to face the world without feeling like a completely vile mess.
I summoned and let a servant, a pretty enough young woman, barely more than a girl really, handle my hair. Part of me was surprised at just how used to them aiding me in basic things like that I had become. You're a noblewoman, this is just how things are. I reminded myself, wringing my washed hands.
Dressed in a deep purple linen robe with gold banding below the neck, above the elbow, and the wrists, and gold-trimmed purple shawl draped over my shoulders, I left my tent, two men I didn't recognize guarding the entrance, though I paid them little mind. In the fine robe, I felt almost out of place at the camps. My red shoe clad feet made practically no noise with each step.
I squinted when the first rays of the midday sun hit my eyes, sending a new wave of pain like daggers stabbing behind my eyes. The only comfort was the cool breeze against my face.
The central camp had further walls erected, and the beginnings of a wooden castle were being laid at the center itself nearest Aegon's tent. That would be the Aegonfort itself, I think.
I frowned, I wouldn't let it take decades for a proper palace to be built, and if I had my way the city wouldn't be nearly as much of a mess. Maybe they'll remember me for it. Visions of wide main streets and open marketplaces surrounded by colonnaded buildings, grand aqueducts bringing in water and the city enclosed within strong walls white and gleaming beneath a warm sun filled my mind. For a moment I could see it as if it were truly there, before the familiar hiss of a dragon broke me from my daydream.
What seemed a hundred feet to my left Vhagar was eating some recently roasted bull, green scales reflecting the bright sun and that same distance to my right lay Meraxes content and sleeping, her scales even more dazzling than my Vhagar's.
I felt bad for admitting it. It is not as though Vhagar isn't beautiful. But like her rider compared to me, she just was… prettier, in a way I couldn't define.
As the men and women of the camp worked and went about their tasks, both in the center command camp and those I knew were going on in the other hills, it really did seem more a ramshackle town than a base for war, and though I knew it was not the first time I had noticed it, it was not something that was easy to really… grasp. That men who were doing drills and laughing when they were done, and eating and drinking like it was a normal day would gladly kill others tomorrow if it meant the chance for plunder and personal glory.
Soldiers are scum. I sighed. It is not as though I am any better. I burned men alive. I killed them. And for what? Because I was told to? I hate him, and yet I do as he orders me to. Why? I did not like the answer.
I glanced back to Meraxes. Rhaenys would normally be out flying at this time. At least, that's what she'd done the past few days. Is she well? Part of me thought she was probably with Aegon, then.
So I asked a man at Aegon's own tent if he had seen her with him today perhaps. I was informed that there was a meeting of the lords going on in Aegon's tent.
A meeting. That I hadn't been summoned to.
Part of me bristled at the insult, until I calmed myself. You were hung over. Asleep until well past dawn. Why would you be summoned? I wondered if I might have said something foolish, if I was so drunk the night before that I couldn't remember much of anything. Perhaps I wasn't invited because I had somehow angered everyone else.
My heart pounded in my chest. Did I tell that? I breathed in and out until my heartbeat slowed, even as I stood near to the entrance of Aegon's pavilion. No, if I had, I most certainly wouldn't have been left as free as I was. I'd be locked up. My feet dragged lightly on the grass, the sun hung in the blue sky, golden and shining. What if they do know? If I did say it. If they're discussing how to handle me right now. If I'm too valuable to throw away because of Vhagar. I could see the accusing stare of Rhaenys in my mind. I can't lose you. I felt tugs at the edges of my eyes.
Aegon's tent seemed to cast a larger shadow than it had before.
They might not be expecting you. If there's any clues to be had, you'll find them now. Better now, than when Aegon came and had me thrown in chains for killing his sister and traipsing about in her skin.
My hand on the curtain, I released a breath I hadn't known I had taken and entered into the dragon's den.
"-'s why I have you, Lord Velaryon. Your ships and those of our good Kasereon." Came the voice of Aegon. Smooth and confident as it always was.
The scent of incense was faint, but it was there. As well, candles lit the tent.
A moment later, I realized all eyes were on me and I wanted to hide under a rock. But the part of me that was the real Visenya refused to feel like a skittish child. I found myself standing proudly, tall, as if my head wasn't aching and I hadn't interrupted a meeting I hadn't even been invited to. My braid hung over my shoulder, and I turned a purple eyed gaze over the assembled group. Everyone from Vaeron to Orys was at the table.
Rhaenys was dressed for war as she had been when we had both left days before, though not wearing a scarf. Her expression was not one I could easily read. What did I say last night? I shoved down the feeling of unease.
My… Visenya's uncle, his lilac eyes untouched by any surprise, looked bored, as if my entrance was not worth noting beyond courtesy. Touching a knuckle to his forehead in lieu of bowing his head. You should be kissing the hem of my robe. A part of me wanted to say that out loud. I looked past him to my b- Aegon.
He seemed unphased, worse he seemed almost happy and beckoned me over to the table. On which was set a number of maps.
"Visenya, it is good that you are here." He said, as I walked over to look at whatever it was to sate my curiosity.
"Is that so?" I tried to keep my tone even and neutral.
He just gave me that smile again and laughed. "You have always had the better mind for strategy, sister. Tell me, what do you think our host should do?"
I tilted my head. "Why are you asking?"
He waved his hand almost absently, "A force of five-thousand swords rides to meet us. It seems these Westerosi think to drive us from their shores."
"I could handle five-thousand on Vhagar alone. Is that what your plan is?" Send me out to see if I'm loyal?
"No, Orys will lure them with a detachment from our host and I will show them the maw of Balerion himself." He smiled, looking almost excited at the prospect. Candlelight seemed to dance in his eyes. Just like… I almost dreaded it by now. How things had gone seemingly on-script.
"Lords Darklyn and Mooton?" I asked, and then wanted to kick myself when both recognition and confusion touched Aegon's features.
Aegon glanced at Vaeron with the slightest hint of annoyance, and the youngest Celtigar seemed to almost shrink where he stood. Left hand barely kept from tugging at his sleeve.
"It was not him, Aegon. Leave him out of this." I snapped, not caring that with how sharply I said the words it made my head hurt.
"Archon, I beg your leave." Orys' voice piped up as he bowed his head. He was all courtesies of course, with Aegon. Fucking toady.
My trueborn brother sighed and… shook his head.
"No, I will not have this meeting disrupted so. You will stay, and we will all speak politely. There will be no argument, this I say as Archon of Dragonstone and the lawful head of the Targaryen family." He raised his hand up and then directed me to stand beside our uncle.
I didn't have to listen, of course. So I stood nearer to Aethon instead. Noting that the cloak he bore seemed new, as I hadn't seen it when we were at Driftmark. Black silk, but with silver trim along the edges and embroidered with wave shapes at the bottom. One of these days, I'll get a new cloak.
The silence stretched on for what felt like a minute before my cousin glanced to my uncle, and then back.
"You want us to take the fleet to Duskendale and put it under a blockade while you and Orys put these Sunset lords to rout?" He offered.
"I will have Visenya go with you to deliver news of the defeat of this host to Duskendale, and you will take the ships that are there and return to us within the week." Before Aethon could say another word, Aegon raised a hand and spoke again, "You have ten days, if the winds are not favorable."
"I am not your errand-girl, Aegon." I don't want to do what she did. Why couldn't he have Rhaenys do it instead?
"You are, however, a Targaryen." And he was the head of our household, even if legally, it would be shared. Balerion put any real arguments to rest.
I sighed in response, and looked down at the map. It was fairly detailed, all told. I guess that makes sense, given the Painted Table.. And the fact that dragons exist. It wasn't a modern map by any means, but I could tell the rough area it was supposed to be between where we were and Crackclaw Point.
"Five-thousand swords, you said?" I frowned, and resisted the urge to sigh and wash my hands of this. I will not let him drive me from here, not in front of everyone. I could see how I would be mocked if I left. Aegon may have been Archon, but he was not my king.
"Two-thousand horse both heavy and light, in fact. Three-thousand footmen, or near as to not make a difference. I assume they hired mercenaries to supplement their numbers, no man would be so foolish as to leave his lands undefended." Aegon said casually, yet with a hint of expectation.
I ran my hand across the map's surface, not paying attention to others, trying to picture it; five-thousand men marching across the lands I'd seen from dragonback days ago. Names of castles and towns were written along the map in Common. Some I recalled, others I didn't know if they'd been mentioned in the books, or if knowing them was a case of Visenya knowing and not me. Nevton, Greyfort, Ramshorn, Hayford…
I bit my lip, and tried to avoid glancing up at anyone. The unshaved face of Orys flashed in my mind as I touched a stone meant to mark the presumed location of the enemy, maybe thirty miles south of Duskendale itself as of now.
"I would let them march to here." I pointed at an area north of Rosby, clear of trees, flat plains mostly not far from the coast. "Bring the Lords Rosby and Stokeworth into the fold through battle on your side, wield their men in addition to your own as a reserve. Especially the horses. Bring them in from the sides and north if possible."
"So you would have us… simply outnumber them, then? What then, would you surround them with our greater numbers?" I didn't know if it was Aegon or Aethon who spoke, they might as well have been the same half-buzz in that moment.
I shook my head in response. "No, not surround them. If they're surrounded they will get desperate, and fight all the harder. It might even incentivize our new vassals to turn on your men for the hope of an easy victory through surprise." I rubbed my thumb, index and middle fingers together out of habit. "Leave them a way out, and they will take it. Then close the trap when they are in disarray. Harry the retreating men with our lighter horse. Regardless, that is what I would do." Something about imagining directing a battle, was just… nicer, than having to fight one. If some dragon horns were used to control men, were they ever wielded for the purpose of directing them with a single will in battle?
"Not that it matters, truly. I have Balerion, and they do not. But were we to fight as beasts of the field do, I might indeed take that into advisement." Whatever pride I'd built up in the past few minutes deflated with that single pinprick.
My hands retreated slightly into the sleeves of my robe as I fought back the urge to verbally chew his head off.
"Still, your tactical acumen is why I trust you to return safely with our fleet and take Duskendale itself easily." I could almost feel the smugness radiating off him. "You will leave in the early morning." He said, with that damnable tone of finality. I wanted to punch him.
Looking up, I didn't even bother doing more than muttering a few niceties before leaving the tent to seek out my dragon. My Vhagar. I didn't care that I was afraid of heights, I only wanted to get away for a few hours.
And so I did.
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Rhaenys Targaryen portrait
Have made 300 words of progress so far today. That's one tenth of a small chapter!
In celebration of the Fourth of July (Independence Day), have an art of the younger of the Two Queens!
I hope my readers, both American and otherwise, are enjoying their day!
In celebration of the Fourth of July (Independence Day), have an art of the younger of the Two Queens!
I hope my readers, both American and otherwise, are enjoying their day!
Chapter Six: The Sea Is a Harsh Mistress
Is this really what I'm doing?
I thought to myself not for the first time. Days before I had done as Aegon had asked, without so much as a fight. What would fighting him have accomplished? I sighed.
My gaze set on the shining moon. The stars bright and twinkling as I found constellations Visenya was familiar with. "Was there really another moon at some point?" I asked no one in particular, this late at night, or early in the morning, nobody was on deck save for myself… and Vhagar. I stroked her smooth yet hard scales.
Almost like coals, yet they do not burn. The starlight oh so barely was reflected in them. It was still amazing how many stars there were that I could see.
"You awake, girl?" There was my voice again, it sounded louder than it probably was. I forget, was that a phenomenon of human evolution? Or is it just so quiet in other ways that everything is louder? No answer from Vhagar, but why would there be? She needed sleep too, unlike me she wasn't suffering from a bout of insomnia. Could actually sleep comfortably at sea.
I had tried to sleep before. In a room set aside for my own use and if I were to be completely honest, it was fairly comfortable and pleasing to my eyes. I just couldn't feel comfortable not being close to an escape when at sea. I'd been kept awake by thoughts of the ship sinking while I slept, or of being trapped.
Yet I knew it was beyond irrational to think those things.
I snorted, "I'm a dumb girl, aren't I?" I mumbled in my native tongue. It was nice to speak it, when nobody was around. The ship was large too, probably one of the largest in the fleet, as it was made for allowing dragons to rest at sea. Like fucking aircraft carriers? I laughed a bit louder. It was a silly image.
I stretched my legs, covered by dark trousers. It felt good to stretch a bit after not moving them for a while.
"Did humans even evolve? Or were they just… did they have a more fantasyesque creation?" I felt silly asking, it wasn't as if I'd ever know. Visenya didn't. I liked to think G-d made men here too. Guided the creation of all creatures, in some way. Am I allowed to make a shrine at least? My sister, and the Bible said that He had outlawed any worship or altars to Him outside of Jerusalem and the Temple after its construction. But this world had never known His word, had never had a Temple, and part of me wanted to worship Him more than just… just in prayer. It's a silly idea.
Memories flickered, of a woman whose girlhood was partly spent memorizing the histories of a land that was dead and gone long before her grandfather's grandfather was even born. Of foreign gods who were once held close to the hearts of the exiles and those who shared the blood of Valyria. Hymns and prayers and ceremonies.
I wish I knew my G-d half as well as she seems to have known her own gods.
The wind that caressed my cheeks felt rather refreshing, the sounds of the night and sea and winds mingling in a pleasant manner. I missed the tents, though, the camps and even the stupid Aegonfort-to-be. At least there the ground was firm beneath my feet.
Again I was reminded of the fact that Aegon had ordered me here. I wished I'd been brave enough to tell him to fuck off.
A flash of my brother's face came to my mind. My true brother. His big dumb nose, and those ears that were so big when he was younger. He'd never let folks boss him around, from what I remembered. Is Aegon any less truly your brother? I clenched my fists.
"Miss you." A sigh escaped my lips as I toyed with the clasp of my purple and gold cloak, calming myself.
A few minutes passed, and I groaned as I continued to be unable to sleep despite my best efforts.
My best efforts? I'm the girl that slept on a plane easily, could fall asleep crammed between four people on a couch or cramped vehicle with ease.
I rested against Vhagar more, wondering if she could feel me, or if her scales kept her from really noticing such minor pressure. Or even if she just did not notice me because of sleep. I knew how to command dragons, how to ride and what they needed to eat and what temperatures were best for them, milestones of development and age and a thousand other things. Yet I didn't know the answer to this.
Folding my arms under my breasts I took several deep breaths, slowly and evenly, and I became more aware of the sound of the sea. Of the waves gently smacking against the ship, of the light creaking of the wood, of the night winds.
Doing so, focusing on those sounds and my breathing had done more to make me feel sleepy than anything else had. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier.
Breathing more, I turned my gaze upward to the skies once more, my head tilted to the side. My heart skipped a beat.
Is that?
I looked again. Three stars in sequence. "Orion's Belt." I could not keep the awe from slipping into my voice, nor the feeling of wetness pricking at my eyes. Nor did I want to.
It made my heart hurt. At the same time it felt good. Back home I had always looked for it when I looked at the night skies. So many things were different here, but I had that at least now.
I rested my head on Vhagar, my cheek touching her warm scales, but they were a comfort to me.
What am I going to do with my life after all of this? I'll be Queen… and then what? Avoid Aegon's bed? Hide on Driftmark or Dragonstone? I wanted a city, a shining jewel of my own, to leave something good behind even if I had to do it wearing her face and answering to her name. I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything, to show that I was not Aegon's… that I was not just his wife. The original Visenya did it, sorta. But I want to be better than you, if I can. How do I do that?
I had no answer as sleep soon claimed me.
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I heard the sound of men moving about, of yelling. My back hurt slightly, and I realized my hand was asleep when I tried to move it and felt the sensation of needles.
My eyes opened, and for a moment I tried to recall where I was until I remembered after brushing my hand against my dragon's scales. A large, leathery green curtain surrounded me.
"Wait, that's not a curtain." I mumbled, realizing it was Vhagar's wing. I felt… touched. She'd concealed me with her wing while I slept. "Saving your rider's dignity, eh?" I joked. Rising to my feet and emerging from the cover of her wing.
My hair felt a bit messy, and I noticed the scent of burnt meat that I associated with Vhagar's meals at this point.
Part of me felt like I wanted to hide, because I knew that the moment I left the cover I'd be seen and then folks would know and I would be the center of attention. Another part did not care, and dared them to say one word of insult. I was Archontissa, I was Queen, and I was in command. The dragon does as she pleases.
I wore that part of me like armor as I moved past busy men on a ship's deck and down below into the chambers of the captain here, my chambers now, sparing only a glance for my dragon as her golden-eyed gaze rested on me, blood dripping from her maw as she ate her slaughtered ox, and that feeling, that pride felt more natural than anything else.
An hour later I had emerged freshly cleaned and clothed. Ready to face the world on my own terms.
With the sun shining down from clear skies and the ship, though the slowest in the fleet, making a steady pace with the favorable winds at work I looked out over the… bow? Whatever the fuck the sides of ships were called, I never could remember. I have sailors for that. My cousin's face flashed in my mind's eye. He's a good swordsman, but is that why the original Visenya made him her Kingsguard Lord-Commander? Or what?
The dark waters, though fairly calm, put me ill at ease. I could not help it. I did not know if I would ever be truly comfortable with being at sea, though I found the water beautiful from land if somewhat overwhelming.
Men moved about their business, and Vhagar slept as she had most days recently, though I wondered if she was merely napping. I glanced down at my glove-covered hands, flexing the fingers and being more aware of the feeling of my braid on my shoulder than I had been of late.
"Are you well, Archontissa?" Came a curious yet frustratingly chipper voice from behind, almost startling me.
"Of course, Vaeron. Are you not supposed to be aboard the Sweet Sister though? I recall telling you to command it in my absence." I had left the Sweet Sister to be closer to Vhagar, and away from the few men Visenya knew on the ship. The real Visenya.
Vaeron's grey-eyed gaze widened in confusion, "You were not informed?" He said, a frown gracing his features.
I squeezed my left hand with my right. "Informed of what, Ser Vaeron?" I felt a pang of dread. What happened?
"I was… that is to say…" Vaeron glanced at his feet for a moment, looking every bit the young man of eight-and-ten that he was, and I felt a touch of sympathy for him mixed in with my annoyance.
"Tell me, Vaeron." The words came out more harshly than I had meant. I was not mad at him, I hoped he would not think I was.
"The Admiral, your lordly uncle, he removed me from the post you placed me in. My Archontissa, he put your cousin, the lord Aethon, in command of the Sweet Sister." I was no longer listening, all I could see was red, my hand had moved to Dark Sister's hilt without my noticing.
How dare he. How dare he!
I barked out orders to men to have Vhagar's saddle readied, and Vhagar herself seemed agitated though not wild.
It was half an hour later when I left, and I had calmed a little. There is no use in being angry, I need to use my words, I need to… remain calm enough to talk. I feared for a moment, of losing my temper. It was one thing to argue with and give my brother a bloody nose in a stupid fight in my old life. Quite another to stab one's kin in a fit of rage. No matter how much I wish they weren't. They are now.
I breathed deeply as I climbed the saddle and chained myself in. I may have been dressed for a casual dinner, but I felt ready for a war.
The sound of a whip cracking, a whip I knew I cracked but did not think of doing it before I did so as I had on previous flights.
The sea wind was in my hair and blowing my braid as great leathery wings flapped. Almost as if in time with the beat of my heart, almost. From the skies the dozen large ships were easily discernible just by the layout of their decks. Though I was not so high as to truly be in the skies, a few hundred feet above the ships was more than enough as the painted sails and hulls and the masts of the many smaller ships seemed almost a small forest themselves.
I cared not for the smaller ships, only for the largest in the fleet, the one at the head. The Lord Laenor.
My uncle's pride and joy. The thought came to me to torch one of the masts, just to frighten the man a little, to remind him of his place. That he had no right to control me. I was his Archontissa. I was a dragonlord. My hands gripped the mostly decorative reins as I resisted the urge.
A warmth spread in my chest as I completed my circuit of the fleet and Vhagar hovered above the Lord Laenor. Retrieving my war horn from my belt I sounded it to announce my arrival. Men moved out of the way as Vhagar's bulk landed on the deck of the largest ship in our fleet. Sure, it wasn't made for this sort of thing, but I was certain they would manage.
Hardly had I gotten my chains loosened that my uncle made his way to me flanked by two guardsmen in silvered-steel scale armor, his silver hair past his shoulders, wearing a teal cloak with silver trim over the dark velvet clothing he adored so much. His lilac eyes hard as he looked up at me.
"Dearest niece, to what do I owe the honor of your presence on my vessel?" He asked, his voice even and tinged with none of his usual amusement.
He removed me from my post, Archontissa. The one you placed me in. I remembered the words and something in me burned again.
"You will order your son to leave my ship immediately. And you will do this within the next hour. And from now on you will not command my appointed commanders. Do you understand me, Lord Daemon?" I spoke the words as clearly as possible. Pointing at him, shaking my fist to emphasize my words.
My uncle merely shook his head after a moment, a confident smile forced on his features that did not reach his eyes as he met my gaze with his own directly. For the briefest of moments I wanted to look away, but I did not.
"Your brother-husband, the ruling Archon of Dragonstone gave me command of the fleet, dear niece. I may command any other than yourself, and should you not be on your brother's flagship I am free to appoint any I wish to its command. You left it to stay on t-" I interrupted.
"My brother is not within a hundred miles of where we are, and from where I stand I could turn your ship to cinders if you do not do as I say. Do you understand? Write a letter ordering him to leave, hand it to me, and I will give it to your son myself! I do not care what Aegon said was in your rights as admiral, this entire expedition is under my command!" I almost screamed.
I will not be some tame dragon kept on a leash! I am his future queen. I am his Archontissa!
I barely resisted the urge to crack my whip.
Daemon bowed his head, and muttered something I couldn't hear from where I sat before he walked off, his stride as graceful as Rhaenys', and a short time later he had returned. Parchment in hand, and neatly folded. He passed it to a man of his before it made its way to me with some small effort.
I unfolded it and read the contents. I found nothing wrong with it, he had done as I said, and so I graced him with a smile.
"Your cooperation will be remembered, uncle." I placed the parchment in a satchel before cracking my whip, and Vhagar and I were in the skies once more. The coastline was a scant few miles away from us. We'd passed many fishing villages and several small towns on our way up the coastland so far. I wished we could have traveled on foot, that I could have had my feet on firm ground instead of on wooden ships that creaked in the night.
Vhagar's wings beat steadily, and I took the time to make another circuit of the fleet. Allowing the men to see my dragon in flight closely. I did not take my time as much as I had with the first circuit however, as Vhagar and I landed on the Sweet Sister after a ride of a mere few minutes. Or so I assumed, I wasn't keeping track of how many seconds passed but it felt like a few minutes.
I smiled as we landed on the deck of the flagship.
"Retrieve my cousin, the lord Aethon. I have a message for him directly from his father the admiral." My hand rested on the satchel containing the letter from my uncle, the message I had ordered written.
The men, a mix of some silver-haired and others dark haired and even some fair-haired quickly sent one of their own scurrying off to retrieve him. A young one with dark brown hair and skin that was clearly used to life at sunny seas.
As I drummed my fingers against my thigh, the wait began to feel unbearable, I did not know whether two minutes or ten had passed. Only that time stretched almost intolerably. Hurry up!
I must have said it out loud, as several sailors turned their heads to me almost as if in response. I did not care. Though I wondered if Aethon had somehow heard it, as he was on the deck in seemingly no time at all after that.
His silver hair was not short like Aegon's, but his face was like that of my baby brother. Not so alike as Orys, but there was a resemblance, and part of me was repulsed by it. Another merely angry, he had Daemon's damned eyes and Aegon's face in my mind. He even dressed like his father, save that he wore more traditional dress where his father had his beloved dark velvets in a Westerosi style. His hat like the one Corlys had worn. Damn you.
"Sweet cousin, your father has ordered your departure from my ship. You are to leave immediately and return to the Pride of Driftmark. Should I find you on my flagship without leave by the time the sun has set, I will cast you over the Sweet Sister myself and you can swim to whatever other ship will have you. Do you understand?" I tossed the satchel at him, containing little other than the letter itself. "You will find your father's orders in here, Aethon."
I watched as he retrieved the message with uneasy hands, glancing at my Vhagar and then up to myself several times. It felt nice.
He neatly folded the message up after he was finished reading. Though the expression on his face was one I couldn't read as he spoke, "I will leave at once, Archontissa. Allow me to gather my belongings and make preparations." I dismissed him with a wave of my hand and flew off on Vhagar once more, to return to the ship that was meant to be where Vhagar stayed while we were at sea.
As the winds whipped my braid, it felt almost like it cooled my temper, and I felt a gnawing feeling at my heart. Like what I had done was wrong. It was wrong, you stupid fucking idiot! I had threatened my uncle's ship with a dragon, I had threatened to toss Visenya's cousin overboard to maybe drown. I wanted to hit myself. The feeling only got worse as I landed back at the ship I had favored this entire trip. Not even the beauty of the light of the sun glittering off the waters could soften it.
The surge of energy and purpose I'd felt slipped away once I'd made it back and removed the chains that kept me held in the saddle securely. As I climbed down I felt a twinge of something achy and empty.
Vaeron's nervous smile lifted that slightly. His hair worn loosely, and the top of his head covered by a circular hat made of a red dyed felt. His grey eyes mostly warm. He wore the traditional style cloak covering, though his was a darker blue with red crabs sewn into the fine linen and the trim a white. His sandals were made of dark leather, and were tall with open toes. The sleeves of his tunic were fitted and embroidered, and the tunic itself was dark green with a yellowish scrollwork at the hem and went down past his knees.
A few moments of near-silence passed between us, only the gulls and waves and wind really breaking it.
"I... " I breathed deeply, "Ser Vaeron, you may return to the Sweet Sister if you so wish. My uncle will not interfere again." I forced the words out of my mouth. Though my heart hurt a bit when he seemed to frown slightly before laughing and shaking his head.
"If you wish me to, my lady. I-" I raised an eyebrow.
"My lady?"
"I, that is, you, Archontissa… It's no-" He stammered, blushing a red to match the crabs on his family's heraldry. I couldn't keep myself from giggling.
"Vaeron, no need to be so flustered! You can call me what you wish, within reason of course. Archontissa, lady, queen, most beautiful woman in three hundred miles…" I blushed myself at that last one. It sounded so stupid, and vain and arrogant.
"W-well then, Archontissa. I… I wanted to say that I do not think I should be in command of your brother-husband's flagship. I was not raised to sail ships as my elder brothers were. I know a little, but…" He chewed on his lip for a brief moment before continuing, "I think your uncle was right to give your cousin the captaincy whilst you were away."
He must have seen the glare I tried to conceal, that slipped for a moment, or maybe the probably obvious look of disappointment.
"It is just… The Sweet Sister. She is a fine ship, and needs a better captain at her helm." He finished, the last words barely above a nervous mutter. It hurt that I agreed with him. He was right.
My un-.. Daemon was right. I was putting an inexperienced boy in charge of Aegon's greatest ship. It might have been a power move on his part, a snub at me, but it could also just have been him taking precautions.
"We could play a game of cyvasse. I am certain there should be a board on this ship." Vaeron offered.
I frowned for a moment.
"That sounds nice." I replied, "I think there is a board in the captain's quarters. I may be misremembering, but it is worth checking." I forced a smile, and led the way.
I didn't win a single game that afternoon. It did help pass the time, however, and we had arrived near Duskendale before nightfall.
The guilt had not stopped gnawing at me.
I thought to myself not for the first time. Days before I had done as Aegon had asked, without so much as a fight. What would fighting him have accomplished? I sighed.
My gaze set on the shining moon. The stars bright and twinkling as I found constellations Visenya was familiar with. "Was there really another moon at some point?" I asked no one in particular, this late at night, or early in the morning, nobody was on deck save for myself… and Vhagar. I stroked her smooth yet hard scales.
Almost like coals, yet they do not burn. The starlight oh so barely was reflected in them. It was still amazing how many stars there were that I could see.
"You awake, girl?" There was my voice again, it sounded louder than it probably was. I forget, was that a phenomenon of human evolution? Or is it just so quiet in other ways that everything is louder? No answer from Vhagar, but why would there be? She needed sleep too, unlike me she wasn't suffering from a bout of insomnia. Could actually sleep comfortably at sea.
I had tried to sleep before. In a room set aside for my own use and if I were to be completely honest, it was fairly comfortable and pleasing to my eyes. I just couldn't feel comfortable not being close to an escape when at sea. I'd been kept awake by thoughts of the ship sinking while I slept, or of being trapped.
Yet I knew it was beyond irrational to think those things.
I snorted, "I'm a dumb girl, aren't I?" I mumbled in my native tongue. It was nice to speak it, when nobody was around. The ship was large too, probably one of the largest in the fleet, as it was made for allowing dragons to rest at sea. Like fucking aircraft carriers? I laughed a bit louder. It was a silly image.
I stretched my legs, covered by dark trousers. It felt good to stretch a bit after not moving them for a while.
"Did humans even evolve? Or were they just… did they have a more fantasyesque creation?" I felt silly asking, it wasn't as if I'd ever know. Visenya didn't. I liked to think G-d made men here too. Guided the creation of all creatures, in some way. Am I allowed to make a shrine at least? My sister, and the Bible said that He had outlawed any worship or altars to Him outside of Jerusalem and the Temple after its construction. But this world had never known His word, had never had a Temple, and part of me wanted to worship Him more than just… just in prayer. It's a silly idea.
Memories flickered, of a woman whose girlhood was partly spent memorizing the histories of a land that was dead and gone long before her grandfather's grandfather was even born. Of foreign gods who were once held close to the hearts of the exiles and those who shared the blood of Valyria. Hymns and prayers and ceremonies.
I wish I knew my G-d half as well as she seems to have known her own gods.
The wind that caressed my cheeks felt rather refreshing, the sounds of the night and sea and winds mingling in a pleasant manner. I missed the tents, though, the camps and even the stupid Aegonfort-to-be. At least there the ground was firm beneath my feet.
Again I was reminded of the fact that Aegon had ordered me here. I wished I'd been brave enough to tell him to fuck off.
A flash of my brother's face came to my mind. My true brother. His big dumb nose, and those ears that were so big when he was younger. He'd never let folks boss him around, from what I remembered. Is Aegon any less truly your brother? I clenched my fists.
"Miss you." A sigh escaped my lips as I toyed with the clasp of my purple and gold cloak, calming myself.
A few minutes passed, and I groaned as I continued to be unable to sleep despite my best efforts.
My best efforts? I'm the girl that slept on a plane easily, could fall asleep crammed between four people on a couch or cramped vehicle with ease.
I rested against Vhagar more, wondering if she could feel me, or if her scales kept her from really noticing such minor pressure. Or even if she just did not notice me because of sleep. I knew how to command dragons, how to ride and what they needed to eat and what temperatures were best for them, milestones of development and age and a thousand other things. Yet I didn't know the answer to this.
Folding my arms under my breasts I took several deep breaths, slowly and evenly, and I became more aware of the sound of the sea. Of the waves gently smacking against the ship, of the light creaking of the wood, of the night winds.
Doing so, focusing on those sounds and my breathing had done more to make me feel sleepy than anything else had. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier.
Breathing more, I turned my gaze upward to the skies once more, my head tilted to the side. My heart skipped a beat.
Is that?
I looked again. Three stars in sequence. "Orion's Belt." I could not keep the awe from slipping into my voice, nor the feeling of wetness pricking at my eyes. Nor did I want to.
It made my heart hurt. At the same time it felt good. Back home I had always looked for it when I looked at the night skies. So many things were different here, but I had that at least now.
I rested my head on Vhagar, my cheek touching her warm scales, but they were a comfort to me.
What am I going to do with my life after all of this? I'll be Queen… and then what? Avoid Aegon's bed? Hide on Driftmark or Dragonstone? I wanted a city, a shining jewel of my own, to leave something good behind even if I had to do it wearing her face and answering to her name. I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything, to show that I was not Aegon's… that I was not just his wife. The original Visenya did it, sorta. But I want to be better than you, if I can. How do I do that?
I had no answer as sleep soon claimed me.
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I heard the sound of men moving about, of yelling. My back hurt slightly, and I realized my hand was asleep when I tried to move it and felt the sensation of needles.
My eyes opened, and for a moment I tried to recall where I was until I remembered after brushing my hand against my dragon's scales. A large, leathery green curtain surrounded me.
"Wait, that's not a curtain." I mumbled, realizing it was Vhagar's wing. I felt… touched. She'd concealed me with her wing while I slept. "Saving your rider's dignity, eh?" I joked. Rising to my feet and emerging from the cover of her wing.
My hair felt a bit messy, and I noticed the scent of burnt meat that I associated with Vhagar's meals at this point.
Part of me felt like I wanted to hide, because I knew that the moment I left the cover I'd be seen and then folks would know and I would be the center of attention. Another part did not care, and dared them to say one word of insult. I was Archontissa, I was Queen, and I was in command. The dragon does as she pleases.
I wore that part of me like armor as I moved past busy men on a ship's deck and down below into the chambers of the captain here, my chambers now, sparing only a glance for my dragon as her golden-eyed gaze rested on me, blood dripping from her maw as she ate her slaughtered ox, and that feeling, that pride felt more natural than anything else.
An hour later I had emerged freshly cleaned and clothed. Ready to face the world on my own terms.
With the sun shining down from clear skies and the ship, though the slowest in the fleet, making a steady pace with the favorable winds at work I looked out over the… bow? Whatever the fuck the sides of ships were called, I never could remember. I have sailors for that. My cousin's face flashed in my mind's eye. He's a good swordsman, but is that why the original Visenya made him her Kingsguard Lord-Commander? Or what?
The dark waters, though fairly calm, put me ill at ease. I could not help it. I did not know if I would ever be truly comfortable with being at sea, though I found the water beautiful from land if somewhat overwhelming.
Men moved about their business, and Vhagar slept as she had most days recently, though I wondered if she was merely napping. I glanced down at my glove-covered hands, flexing the fingers and being more aware of the feeling of my braid on my shoulder than I had been of late.
"Are you well, Archontissa?" Came a curious yet frustratingly chipper voice from behind, almost startling me.
"Of course, Vaeron. Are you not supposed to be aboard the Sweet Sister though? I recall telling you to command it in my absence." I had left the Sweet Sister to be closer to Vhagar, and away from the few men Visenya knew on the ship. The real Visenya.
Vaeron's grey-eyed gaze widened in confusion, "You were not informed?" He said, a frown gracing his features.
I squeezed my left hand with my right. "Informed of what, Ser Vaeron?" I felt a pang of dread. What happened?
"I was… that is to say…" Vaeron glanced at his feet for a moment, looking every bit the young man of eight-and-ten that he was, and I felt a touch of sympathy for him mixed in with my annoyance.
"Tell me, Vaeron." The words came out more harshly than I had meant. I was not mad at him, I hoped he would not think I was.
"The Admiral, your lordly uncle, he removed me from the post you placed me in. My Archontissa, he put your cousin, the lord Aethon, in command of the Sweet Sister." I was no longer listening, all I could see was red, my hand had moved to Dark Sister's hilt without my noticing.
How dare he. How dare he!
I barked out orders to men to have Vhagar's saddle readied, and Vhagar herself seemed agitated though not wild.
It was half an hour later when I left, and I had calmed a little. There is no use in being angry, I need to use my words, I need to… remain calm enough to talk. I feared for a moment, of losing my temper. It was one thing to argue with and give my brother a bloody nose in a stupid fight in my old life. Quite another to stab one's kin in a fit of rage. No matter how much I wish they weren't. They are now.
I breathed deeply as I climbed the saddle and chained myself in. I may have been dressed for a casual dinner, but I felt ready for a war.
The sound of a whip cracking, a whip I knew I cracked but did not think of doing it before I did so as I had on previous flights.
The sea wind was in my hair and blowing my braid as great leathery wings flapped. Almost as if in time with the beat of my heart, almost. From the skies the dozen large ships were easily discernible just by the layout of their decks. Though I was not so high as to truly be in the skies, a few hundred feet above the ships was more than enough as the painted sails and hulls and the masts of the many smaller ships seemed almost a small forest themselves.
I cared not for the smaller ships, only for the largest in the fleet, the one at the head. The Lord Laenor.
My uncle's pride and joy. The thought came to me to torch one of the masts, just to frighten the man a little, to remind him of his place. That he had no right to control me. I was his Archontissa. I was a dragonlord. My hands gripped the mostly decorative reins as I resisted the urge.
A warmth spread in my chest as I completed my circuit of the fleet and Vhagar hovered above the Lord Laenor. Retrieving my war horn from my belt I sounded it to announce my arrival. Men moved out of the way as Vhagar's bulk landed on the deck of the largest ship in our fleet. Sure, it wasn't made for this sort of thing, but I was certain they would manage.
Hardly had I gotten my chains loosened that my uncle made his way to me flanked by two guardsmen in silvered-steel scale armor, his silver hair past his shoulders, wearing a teal cloak with silver trim over the dark velvet clothing he adored so much. His lilac eyes hard as he looked up at me.
"Dearest niece, to what do I owe the honor of your presence on my vessel?" He asked, his voice even and tinged with none of his usual amusement.
He removed me from my post, Archontissa. The one you placed me in. I remembered the words and something in me burned again.
"You will order your son to leave my ship immediately. And you will do this within the next hour. And from now on you will not command my appointed commanders. Do you understand me, Lord Daemon?" I spoke the words as clearly as possible. Pointing at him, shaking my fist to emphasize my words.
My uncle merely shook his head after a moment, a confident smile forced on his features that did not reach his eyes as he met my gaze with his own directly. For the briefest of moments I wanted to look away, but I did not.
"Your brother-husband, the ruling Archon of Dragonstone gave me command of the fleet, dear niece. I may command any other than yourself, and should you not be on your brother's flagship I am free to appoint any I wish to its command. You left it to stay on t-" I interrupted.
"My brother is not within a hundred miles of where we are, and from where I stand I could turn your ship to cinders if you do not do as I say. Do you understand? Write a letter ordering him to leave, hand it to me, and I will give it to your son myself! I do not care what Aegon said was in your rights as admiral, this entire expedition is under my command!" I almost screamed.
I will not be some tame dragon kept on a leash! I am his future queen. I am his Archontissa!
I barely resisted the urge to crack my whip.
Daemon bowed his head, and muttered something I couldn't hear from where I sat before he walked off, his stride as graceful as Rhaenys', and a short time later he had returned. Parchment in hand, and neatly folded. He passed it to a man of his before it made its way to me with some small effort.
I unfolded it and read the contents. I found nothing wrong with it, he had done as I said, and so I graced him with a smile.
"Your cooperation will be remembered, uncle." I placed the parchment in a satchel before cracking my whip, and Vhagar and I were in the skies once more. The coastline was a scant few miles away from us. We'd passed many fishing villages and several small towns on our way up the coastland so far. I wished we could have traveled on foot, that I could have had my feet on firm ground instead of on wooden ships that creaked in the night.
Vhagar's wings beat steadily, and I took the time to make another circuit of the fleet. Allowing the men to see my dragon in flight closely. I did not take my time as much as I had with the first circuit however, as Vhagar and I landed on the Sweet Sister after a ride of a mere few minutes. Or so I assumed, I wasn't keeping track of how many seconds passed but it felt like a few minutes.
I smiled as we landed on the deck of the flagship.
"Retrieve my cousin, the lord Aethon. I have a message for him directly from his father the admiral." My hand rested on the satchel containing the letter from my uncle, the message I had ordered written.
The men, a mix of some silver-haired and others dark haired and even some fair-haired quickly sent one of their own scurrying off to retrieve him. A young one with dark brown hair and skin that was clearly used to life at sunny seas.
As I drummed my fingers against my thigh, the wait began to feel unbearable, I did not know whether two minutes or ten had passed. Only that time stretched almost intolerably. Hurry up!
I must have said it out loud, as several sailors turned their heads to me almost as if in response. I did not care. Though I wondered if Aethon had somehow heard it, as he was on the deck in seemingly no time at all after that.
His silver hair was not short like Aegon's, but his face was like that of my baby brother. Not so alike as Orys, but there was a resemblance, and part of me was repulsed by it. Another merely angry, he had Daemon's damned eyes and Aegon's face in my mind. He even dressed like his father, save that he wore more traditional dress where his father had his beloved dark velvets in a Westerosi style. His hat like the one Corlys had worn. Damn you.
"Sweet cousin, your father has ordered your departure from my ship. You are to leave immediately and return to the Pride of Driftmark. Should I find you on my flagship without leave by the time the sun has set, I will cast you over the Sweet Sister myself and you can swim to whatever other ship will have you. Do you understand?" I tossed the satchel at him, containing little other than the letter itself. "You will find your father's orders in here, Aethon."
I watched as he retrieved the message with uneasy hands, glancing at my Vhagar and then up to myself several times. It felt nice.
He neatly folded the message up after he was finished reading. Though the expression on his face was one I couldn't read as he spoke, "I will leave at once, Archontissa. Allow me to gather my belongings and make preparations." I dismissed him with a wave of my hand and flew off on Vhagar once more, to return to the ship that was meant to be where Vhagar stayed while we were at sea.
As the winds whipped my braid, it felt almost like it cooled my temper, and I felt a gnawing feeling at my heart. Like what I had done was wrong. It was wrong, you stupid fucking idiot! I had threatened my uncle's ship with a dragon, I had threatened to toss Visenya's cousin overboard to maybe drown. I wanted to hit myself. The feeling only got worse as I landed back at the ship I had favored this entire trip. Not even the beauty of the light of the sun glittering off the waters could soften it.
The surge of energy and purpose I'd felt slipped away once I'd made it back and removed the chains that kept me held in the saddle securely. As I climbed down I felt a twinge of something achy and empty.
Vaeron's nervous smile lifted that slightly. His hair worn loosely, and the top of his head covered by a circular hat made of a red dyed felt. His grey eyes mostly warm. He wore the traditional style cloak covering, though his was a darker blue with red crabs sewn into the fine linen and the trim a white. His sandals were made of dark leather, and were tall with open toes. The sleeves of his tunic were fitted and embroidered, and the tunic itself was dark green with a yellowish scrollwork at the hem and went down past his knees.
A few moments of near-silence passed between us, only the gulls and waves and wind really breaking it.
"I... " I breathed deeply, "Ser Vaeron, you may return to the Sweet Sister if you so wish. My uncle will not interfere again." I forced the words out of my mouth. Though my heart hurt a bit when he seemed to frown slightly before laughing and shaking his head.
"If you wish me to, my lady. I-" I raised an eyebrow.
"My lady?"
"I, that is, you, Archontissa… It's no-" He stammered, blushing a red to match the crabs on his family's heraldry. I couldn't keep myself from giggling.
"Vaeron, no need to be so flustered! You can call me what you wish, within reason of course. Archontissa, lady, queen, most beautiful woman in three hundred miles…" I blushed myself at that last one. It sounded so stupid, and vain and arrogant.
"W-well then, Archontissa. I… I wanted to say that I do not think I should be in command of your brother-husband's flagship. I was not raised to sail ships as my elder brothers were. I know a little, but…" He chewed on his lip for a brief moment before continuing, "I think your uncle was right to give your cousin the captaincy whilst you were away."
He must have seen the glare I tried to conceal, that slipped for a moment, or maybe the probably obvious look of disappointment.
"It is just… The Sweet Sister. She is a fine ship, and needs a better captain at her helm." He finished, the last words barely above a nervous mutter. It hurt that I agreed with him. He was right.
My un-.. Daemon was right. I was putting an inexperienced boy in charge of Aegon's greatest ship. It might have been a power move on his part, a snub at me, but it could also just have been him taking precautions.
"We could play a game of cyvasse. I am certain there should be a board on this ship." Vaeron offered.
I frowned for a moment.
"That sounds nice." I replied, "I think there is a board in the captain's quarters. I may be misremembering, but it is worth checking." I forced a smile, and led the way.
I didn't win a single game that afternoon. It did help pass the time, however, and we had arrived near Duskendale before nightfall.
The guilt had not stopped gnawing at me.
Chapter Seven: The Fall of Duskendale
The city's walls stood firmly against us. Thirty feet in height and we had heard nearly thirteen thick. Almost mocking our lack of numbers with their stoutness, their strength and their height. The pre-dawn light shimmered on the pale stone of them.
It was the second day of the siege, and I stood in a small hastily assembled council of men.
Daemon Velaryon, my uncle, his attire as prime and maintained as ever. This time even wearing a cloak matching that of his sons, though finer in make, and with more silver thread and intricate designs. Both waves and seahorses, and even a dragon on the hem. He looked more awake than I felt by far. Wretched man. He had called this meeting early. I wanted to throttle him. He had no right.
Vaeron stood beside me, dressed as he had most days, but this time he wore a finer clasp. With garnets set in the silver. A gift from his mother. I recalled. I was glad the young man was here.
"I am glad that you have all come to our Archontissa's war meeting." Daemon's voice, smooth and authoritative, carried through the deck of the Lord Laenor, the same deck we had cleared for our use at this moment. Even in the Westerosi Common tongue he had no issues making himself heard and understood.
I bit my tongue. Now was not the time to yell at him for calling a meeting without first consulting me, and using my name in it. I had just barely patched things over with him the day before, through his son, as I had no wish to apologize to him directly.
"We cannot win like this." The voice of Aethon was as if he were trying to imitate my brother and his father at once, and not quite managing either. He could give orders, but there was no real strength or charisma to it. He was dressed not unlike my brother, though in silvered-scale rather than blackened, and wore the same cloak as his brother.
"We have a thousand swords, many more if we press some of our rowers into service." Vaeron said, chipper and somehow energetic despite the early hour. "They have but eight hundred." He said with a smile, I could almost hear it.
"Eight-hundred on the walls, Ser Vaeron. That's worth eight thousand off of them, or more. We have not the men nor the time to take them. Our rowers would make for poor soldiers, we have few engineers, we cannot build siege equipment and even if we could we lack the fighting men to drive them from their position. Even if we did take the walls..." Lord Triston Massey replied, his words spoken in his queer Narrow Sea-Stormlander accent. He stroked the end of his long honey-blond mustache, as if in thought.
"And if we did take the walls, most like they would fall back to the Dun Fort." Aethon finished pithily. Lord Massey just offered a smile and nod.
It was strange, for the Visenya side of me at least. The man's clothing was a mix of both Narrow Sea and Stormlander fashions. He bore the cloak, though his was less ornate than our own, and a doublet where my kin would wear their tunics or shirts. Part of me resented his presence, but Aegon had insisted.
"Or worse, fight in the streets." I said, almost without thinking.
"Then why do we waste our time trying to besiege the city? We have not the men to encircle it, and if we tried to force our way through by sea, we would have to face them in the streets anyway." Corlys ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. The hat I had grown accustomed to seeing was not on his head.
Daemon's eyes rested on me, "Use Vhagar and we could be done in a matter of hours, niece." I wanted to scream. The image of men covered in green flame would not leave me.
"No, I will not burn a castle just to save time." I forced myself to sound as strong as I could.
"There is no other way, Archontissa. We do not have the men, supplies, or time to do this! Your brother wants us back in five days at most!" I scowled at Aethon, his words were like nails on chalkboard at that moment.
"I refuse to turn Vhagar's flame on a city, not unless there is no other option. I gave Darklyn's son the choice to bend the knee or die. He still has until this sunset before the surrender is no longer an option." I balled my hands into fists, my knuckles likely had whitened.
"And if he does not?" Asked Aethon
"Aethon, I will…" I bit my tongue, realizing I had been about to threaten him with dragonfire if he did not shut up.
I calmed myself slightly.
"I will burn the castle, and the men on the ships. But I will never turn Vhagar's fire on innocents." Five days. I shuddered to think of what Aegon might do if I failed. Lock me up? He doesn't need three dragons. I breathed in and out, before addressing the assembled men.
"If the city is not taken by the time the sun sets and rises, I will take Vhagar and I will force the way through. Until then, maintain the siege and blockade the port. Are you happy now?" I tugged at my braid. My kinsmen, and the others just bowed and gave their polite words and goodbyes. The meeting had obviously concluded.
Now what? I sighed, and made my way to Vhagar.
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The dawn was beautiful here, in a way even more beautiful than at Dragonstone. With the sun glinting off the chalk cliffs, and the more rugged bits of the landscape complementing the greener parts fairly well in a way that somewhat reminded me of a place I had been, but could not quite recall. Green-grey waters that were beautiful in their own way, despite lacking the sheer gorgeous blue of Driftmark.
Our men had camped close to the ships. Others close to that camp, but near to the walls. And yet a third group along the road.
Disciplined and orderly as the men at the main camp, with much the same armor, though a greater proportion were lighter foot. If I wanted someone dead, they would kill them. A part of me realized.
I had spent an hour circling the city looking for weaknesses. Seeing the camps from the skies as the cook fires were maintained and the men ate their breakfasts. When did flying become so comfortable? I wondered, it was not as if it was truly comfortable, but I was no longer feeling the urge to jump off, nor did the feeling of being more than twenty feet above the ground make me want to piss myself. Is this Visenya? Is it me?
I did not know the answer.
After a time I landed back on the Sweet Sister. Though her deck was not made for it, she would hold, if barely. The keening hiss noise that Vhagar was making, that whine, reminded me that she was hungry anyway.
My hand pressed against her muzzle, and I rubbed her green scales. "I'll have a fat sheep brought to you, how's that?" A low rumbling noise came up from her chest and I frowned. How much does she really understand? I had tried to ignore her once, but something in me… I just could not. It was more than the reasons I had come up with. It was something I did not understand. Am I going mad?
The sound of boots tramping on wood in my direction snapped me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see what it was. Vaeron, trailed by two guards. I smiled.
"Oh, good. Send word to the men on the other ships, Vhagar needs a sheep to eat. Or a load of fish." I laughed.
"Y-yes, Archontissa. But I must needs inform you, we have prisoners. Our soldiers captured them as they made their way up the road. The man in charge of it, he would be of little consequence, but h-he claims to be from Duskendale." I wanted to hit him.
I balled my hands into fists, "Our men captured a merchant caravan? Why? Let them go! They have done nothing wrong!" I barked, and then sighed. I felt like I had a headache coming on. "Actually, let me see their leader." The least I can do is apologize.
Within half an hour the man was brought aboard the Sweet Sister.
I looked at the captured man. He was old. Maybe fifty, judging by his graying hair and weathered features. But he was well-dressed, aside from the stains on his clothes likely gained from being roughed up.
I winced at the cut on his lip, and the bruise that had formed on his face.
"Search him for any hidden weapons, and…" I wanted to punch something, someone. "Have the man cleaned up, he'll be eating with me in an hour." The two men-at-arms looked confused.
"Did I stutter? Do as I command." I ordered, and a hissing sound from Vhagar was quick to get them to do as I said.
When I saw the prisoner again he was in… well, he was in better shape than he had been. I stamped out on my urge to immediately apologize. You are a daughter of Valyria, you do not show weakness. I schooled my features, and gestured for the man to sit.
He did so, taking a seat across from me, with food ready for both him and myself. Some kind of fish, white bread, a Dornish red wine along with cool water, and carrots all served on a silver tray and clay plates. It was… poorer fare than I had been used to, but I wasn't complaining.
"Your name?" I made sure to speak in the Common. I will not let Stokeworth be repeated.
He looked up at me, as if weighing his options for a brief moment before speaking, "Lothor, my lady."
"And you were heading up the road to Duskendale?"
"Duskendale is my home. We heard tell of dragons further south and wanted nothing to do with them, and returned home to be safe." He said the words almost tiredly. I wanted to comfort him.
"And now dragons have found you regardless. War and dragons both. For what it is worth, I did not intend to go this far north so quickly. My brother-husband, " The term made part of me want to spit, "Sent me. I want to take this city and be done with it. No bloodshed, I would wait for more men to reinforce this siege, but my brother demands we have the city by tomorrow." It was a lie, but a small one, how many more did I need to make? If lies stained, my tongue would have surely been black as night by now.
"I am no knight, lady, that honor belongs to my youngest son, but even I know you can not take the walls of Duskendale in a day with what few men I saw." He pursed his lips nervously immediately after, as if he realized he might have offended.
I sighed in response, I sipped at the water I had for myself before replying, "Truth be told, Lothar, I could have the city by nightfall, if I wished. Your lord's Dun Fort would melt under my dragon's flame. His soldiers would burn, the houses would go up in flame green as grass that would burn for an entire day." I said as though it were as simple a fact as the sun rising in the east. For Visenya, for me now, it almost was. As much as I hated it.
Happiness welled up in me as I saw him freeze up for a moment. He set down his fork.
"Why do you not simply take the city as you say, then?" He asked, his dark eyes avoiding my face. Is he afraid of me? The idea hurt.
"I told you, I do not want to kill more than is necessary. I do not want anyone to die if I can help it. I do not find any pleasure in dealing death, nor in war." I snorted, I imagined the real Visenya would have screamed. Hell, even Rhaenys would find it confusing I imagine. It was still strange that such a nice woman could find war fun. "When lords go to war, it's men like you who suffer." G-d, I sound like a cheesy politician. I meant it though. Even if part of me liked the idea of glory, war felt wrong.
Lothar's face went through expressions ranging from thoughtful to nervous and then to thoughtful again. "I might be able to help you." He looked like the words had been almost forced from his lips.
"Oh?" I tried to keep the surprise from showing. Could it be? Hope welled up. I forced my tone to be more even, harder, "How will you help?"
"My son is in the city watch. Without him I would have to pay more coming into Duskendale, my boy ha-"
"How does that help me, Lothar?"
He frowned, before nodding his head, "He commands one of the gatehouses, my lady."
I could not keep myself from smiling. "You can get him to leave one of the gates opened, then?" I wanted to laugh.
"I will need gold for him to bribe men with." He seemed to be more comfortable now.
Something in me felt cold. Is he playing me? "What do you want?" I could not stop myself from speaking before I could say the words in anything other than an accusing tone. My hand on the hilt of my dagger.
Lothar looked nervous, "Promise me, you will not unleash your dragon on the town. T-that is all I wish. Do not let your soldiers sack Duskendale. For my family's safety."
A facepalm would have been appropriate. Of course he wants that. Not everybody is trying to take advantage of you. Old habits died hard after all. But I'd been burned enough in my life. Am I paranoid? I wanted to think the best of people, so I hoped that was enough.
I lied back in the chair, not enough to tip it back, but still. "Five silver crowns now, and three gold coins when we take Darklyn's coffers. I won't have them paid upfront only for them to weasel out of it. Tell your son that." I frowned as I realized something.
"How do you plan to get in? To contact your son? I doubt they will be opening the gates during a siege.
"They will let me in, no doubt. I may have to bribe a guard or three but they will let me into the city."
He explained his plan to me. He would enter the city, make contact with his son, and by night he would have the gates left open. The west gate, not the south. After that, marching straight down the main road and to the Dun Fort itself, as the only men there would be household guards. With a gate taken, there was the chance that they might surrender right then. Especially if I were to fly in on Vhagar. I promised I would reimburse him for money he spent bribing guards.
I took the plan, and the man himself to my uncle. And explained it to him in our mother tongue.
Daemon turned to Lothar and addressed the man, "Be on your way, merchant, You and your caravan will be unharmed, your horses, donkeys, servants and whatever goods you had will be returned. Remember the agreement, or your head will adorn a pike the sunset after the next." He waved a hand dismissively.
I felt my cheeks burn.
"Uncle! Until he leaves, he is a prisoner under my protection, you will not show him such disrespect." I kept my voice calm, if barely so.
"Of course, Your Grace." He said, with a flourish of his cloak as he made his way to where he'd be going below deck.
I wanted to chide him further for insulting a man I had tried to make comfortable. For not even using his name.
Not that it mattered, as Lothar was being escorted even as we spoke. It was not even late afternoon, and I felt far more tired than I should.
As Lothar was guided off the ship I followed Daemon below. Nearly bumping into a few deckhands on the way, and noting the presence of a single cat on the ship, I resisted the urge to pet it before arriving where I knew the captain's cabin would be. It was, like most things about my dear uncle, a mix of finery and comfort. With little in the way of keepsakes, from what I could tell, but I barely knew the man so I could have been wrong. My uncle was already sitting in a comfortable chair that put the one I'd used on the Sweet Sister to shame, and another chair already set out as if he'd expected I would come.
He tilted his head in amusement. "Please, sit with your uncle, Visenya. I do not believe we have ever spoken in private like this before." I tried not to meet his eyes as I sat down, and decided to speak before he could control the conversation.
"We'll need to make noise to keep the men of the south gate from finding out too soon that our men have taken the west gate. As well, we should not send in the young men, or the Westerosi. I do not trust them to follow orders in battle. I want the city taken, not sacked. It is more valuable to us unharmed. After all," I breathed in, I had been thinking on the idea for some time, "My most esteemed kinsman will be given the tariff rights for the port, and it will be richer if it is not first looted."
"And here I thought you hated me, sweet niece." He said with a smile, one that sent a chill down my spine, I could not remember him ever smiling so broadly at me before. It touched his eyes.
"I do not like you that much, no. You have never liked us either, uncle." He chuckled in response.
"You are my sister's children, for that I love you, but you are right. I like you little. And though Rhaenys may have Valaena's daring, I say you have her tongue as well as her face. Perhaps some of her boldness as well." Daemon smiled softly, part of me hurt to hear those words from him and yet craved it, "You insulted your husband thrice over, while in his presence. You even struck him from what I hear."
I froze up, "Where did you hear… any of this?" I had not struck Aegon at any point, but I had indeed insulted him. He deserved it.
"Servants talk, Visenya. As do men in the camps, if you know to listen. I heard a fair deal on Dragonstone, and more at the king's camps at the landing camps. I would recommend you stay away from wine, niece, without your sister the entire camp might have known about how you made a fool of yourself." I felt sick. How much do people know about what I do?
My black boot clad feet carried me out of the room and back to Vhagar, and a short time later, with the powerful beating of her wings we were soaring through the skies.
I realized I had forgotten to apologize to Lothar for him being roughed up.
Fuck!
------------------------------------
The morning air was heavy with mist as the son of the lord of Duskendale marched out to meet me in the first great courtyard of the Dun Fort. My guard of fifty heavy horse, his of a hundred footmen armored as well as any knight and twelve horsemen.
He had begged after a night of the keep under siege, after his city gate had fallen to us, and after my Vhagar had flown over their battlements with the early morning. I did not burn them as I did the men of Stokeworth.
Beside the son of the Lord Darklyn, another man carried his house's banner, black diamonds on a field of yellow below a single bar of black on which there were five gold crowns in sequence. He was… I did not imagine Robert Darklyn was any older than I. Maybe younger. His features were plain, but he held himself proudly despite his clear unease. Any man can look lordly on horseback.
On the back of my white courser, I felt just as tall.
"Your Grace, it is an honor to meet with you to discuss t-" I'd had enough. I just wanted this to end.
"Dispense with the pleasantries, Darklyn. Your city watch has abandoned you, and if you sit inside that keep of yours you will burn before noontide. You resisted, but though I will not allow you to keep your city or lands, save perhaps what might be reasonable for a poor landed knight, you will live." I spoke, with a confidence that part of me felt was unearned, but it felt wonderful to be giving commands like this.
"And if I were to tell you I have twelve crossbowmen ready to loose their bolts at my command, Your Grace?" His face seemed tired. My heart began to race.
"My dragon is outside, and she will be none too happy. Did you know that dragons frenzy on the death of a rider? It takes some time for them to come back under control." I lied. "And if you somehow managed to kill her, my brother is marching up the road with four thousand men alongside another dragon that makes mine look like a robin beside a hawk. And my sister as well, her dragon though not so great as his, is still older and stronger than my Vhagar." I smiled.
"Do you have any other questions?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, my braid touching my cloaked shoulder.
"No, it is over. I…" He got off his horse, and knelt before me, offering his blade. "Duskendale is yours, Your Grace."
It was the second day of the siege, and I stood in a small hastily assembled council of men.
Daemon Velaryon, my uncle, his attire as prime and maintained as ever. This time even wearing a cloak matching that of his sons, though finer in make, and with more silver thread and intricate designs. Both waves and seahorses, and even a dragon on the hem. He looked more awake than I felt by far. Wretched man. He had called this meeting early. I wanted to throttle him. He had no right.
Vaeron stood beside me, dressed as he had most days, but this time he wore a finer clasp. With garnets set in the silver. A gift from his mother. I recalled. I was glad the young man was here.
"I am glad that you have all come to our Archontissa's war meeting." Daemon's voice, smooth and authoritative, carried through the deck of the Lord Laenor, the same deck we had cleared for our use at this moment. Even in the Westerosi Common tongue he had no issues making himself heard and understood.
I bit my tongue. Now was not the time to yell at him for calling a meeting without first consulting me, and using my name in it. I had just barely patched things over with him the day before, through his son, as I had no wish to apologize to him directly.
"We cannot win like this." The voice of Aethon was as if he were trying to imitate my brother and his father at once, and not quite managing either. He could give orders, but there was no real strength or charisma to it. He was dressed not unlike my brother, though in silvered-scale rather than blackened, and wore the same cloak as his brother.
"We have a thousand swords, many more if we press some of our rowers into service." Vaeron said, chipper and somehow energetic despite the early hour. "They have but eight hundred." He said with a smile, I could almost hear it.
"Eight-hundred on the walls, Ser Vaeron. That's worth eight thousand off of them, or more. We have not the men nor the time to take them. Our rowers would make for poor soldiers, we have few engineers, we cannot build siege equipment and even if we could we lack the fighting men to drive them from their position. Even if we did take the walls..." Lord Triston Massey replied, his words spoken in his queer Narrow Sea-Stormlander accent. He stroked the end of his long honey-blond mustache, as if in thought.
"And if we did take the walls, most like they would fall back to the Dun Fort." Aethon finished pithily. Lord Massey just offered a smile and nod.
It was strange, for the Visenya side of me at least. The man's clothing was a mix of both Narrow Sea and Stormlander fashions. He bore the cloak, though his was less ornate than our own, and a doublet where my kin would wear their tunics or shirts. Part of me resented his presence, but Aegon had insisted.
"Or worse, fight in the streets." I said, almost without thinking.
"Then why do we waste our time trying to besiege the city? We have not the men to encircle it, and if we tried to force our way through by sea, we would have to face them in the streets anyway." Corlys ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. The hat I had grown accustomed to seeing was not on his head.
Daemon's eyes rested on me, "Use Vhagar and we could be done in a matter of hours, niece." I wanted to scream. The image of men covered in green flame would not leave me.
"No, I will not burn a castle just to save time." I forced myself to sound as strong as I could.
"There is no other way, Archontissa. We do not have the men, supplies, or time to do this! Your brother wants us back in five days at most!" I scowled at Aethon, his words were like nails on chalkboard at that moment.
"I refuse to turn Vhagar's flame on a city, not unless there is no other option. I gave Darklyn's son the choice to bend the knee or die. He still has until this sunset before the surrender is no longer an option." I balled my hands into fists, my knuckles likely had whitened.
"And if he does not?" Asked Aethon
"Aethon, I will…" I bit my tongue, realizing I had been about to threaten him with dragonfire if he did not shut up.
I calmed myself slightly.
"I will burn the castle, and the men on the ships. But I will never turn Vhagar's fire on innocents." Five days. I shuddered to think of what Aegon might do if I failed. Lock me up? He doesn't need three dragons. I breathed in and out, before addressing the assembled men.
"If the city is not taken by the time the sun sets and rises, I will take Vhagar and I will force the way through. Until then, maintain the siege and blockade the port. Are you happy now?" I tugged at my braid. My kinsmen, and the others just bowed and gave their polite words and goodbyes. The meeting had obviously concluded.
Now what? I sighed, and made my way to Vhagar.
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The dawn was beautiful here, in a way even more beautiful than at Dragonstone. With the sun glinting off the chalk cliffs, and the more rugged bits of the landscape complementing the greener parts fairly well in a way that somewhat reminded me of a place I had been, but could not quite recall. Green-grey waters that were beautiful in their own way, despite lacking the sheer gorgeous blue of Driftmark.
Our men had camped close to the ships. Others close to that camp, but near to the walls. And yet a third group along the road.
Disciplined and orderly as the men at the main camp, with much the same armor, though a greater proportion were lighter foot. If I wanted someone dead, they would kill them. A part of me realized.
I had spent an hour circling the city looking for weaknesses. Seeing the camps from the skies as the cook fires were maintained and the men ate their breakfasts. When did flying become so comfortable? I wondered, it was not as if it was truly comfortable, but I was no longer feeling the urge to jump off, nor did the feeling of being more than twenty feet above the ground make me want to piss myself. Is this Visenya? Is it me?
I did not know the answer.
After a time I landed back on the Sweet Sister. Though her deck was not made for it, she would hold, if barely. The keening hiss noise that Vhagar was making, that whine, reminded me that she was hungry anyway.
My hand pressed against her muzzle, and I rubbed her green scales. "I'll have a fat sheep brought to you, how's that?" A low rumbling noise came up from her chest and I frowned. How much does she really understand? I had tried to ignore her once, but something in me… I just could not. It was more than the reasons I had come up with. It was something I did not understand. Am I going mad?
The sound of boots tramping on wood in my direction snapped me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see what it was. Vaeron, trailed by two guards. I smiled.
"Oh, good. Send word to the men on the other ships, Vhagar needs a sheep to eat. Or a load of fish." I laughed.
"Y-yes, Archontissa. But I must needs inform you, we have prisoners. Our soldiers captured them as they made their way up the road. The man in charge of it, he would be of little consequence, but h-he claims to be from Duskendale." I wanted to hit him.
I balled my hands into fists, "Our men captured a merchant caravan? Why? Let them go! They have done nothing wrong!" I barked, and then sighed. I felt like I had a headache coming on. "Actually, let me see their leader." The least I can do is apologize.
Within half an hour the man was brought aboard the Sweet Sister.
I looked at the captured man. He was old. Maybe fifty, judging by his graying hair and weathered features. But he was well-dressed, aside from the stains on his clothes likely gained from being roughed up.
I winced at the cut on his lip, and the bruise that had formed on his face.
"Search him for any hidden weapons, and…" I wanted to punch something, someone. "Have the man cleaned up, he'll be eating with me in an hour." The two men-at-arms looked confused.
"Did I stutter? Do as I command." I ordered, and a hissing sound from Vhagar was quick to get them to do as I said.
When I saw the prisoner again he was in… well, he was in better shape than he had been. I stamped out on my urge to immediately apologize. You are a daughter of Valyria, you do not show weakness. I schooled my features, and gestured for the man to sit.
He did so, taking a seat across from me, with food ready for both him and myself. Some kind of fish, white bread, a Dornish red wine along with cool water, and carrots all served on a silver tray and clay plates. It was… poorer fare than I had been used to, but I wasn't complaining.
"Your name?" I made sure to speak in the Common. I will not let Stokeworth be repeated.
He looked up at me, as if weighing his options for a brief moment before speaking, "Lothor, my lady."
"And you were heading up the road to Duskendale?"
"Duskendale is my home. We heard tell of dragons further south and wanted nothing to do with them, and returned home to be safe." He said the words almost tiredly. I wanted to comfort him.
"And now dragons have found you regardless. War and dragons both. For what it is worth, I did not intend to go this far north so quickly. My brother-husband, " The term made part of me want to spit, "Sent me. I want to take this city and be done with it. No bloodshed, I would wait for more men to reinforce this siege, but my brother demands we have the city by tomorrow." It was a lie, but a small one, how many more did I need to make? If lies stained, my tongue would have surely been black as night by now.
"I am no knight, lady, that honor belongs to my youngest son, but even I know you can not take the walls of Duskendale in a day with what few men I saw." He pursed his lips nervously immediately after, as if he realized he might have offended.
I sighed in response, I sipped at the water I had for myself before replying, "Truth be told, Lothar, I could have the city by nightfall, if I wished. Your lord's Dun Fort would melt under my dragon's flame. His soldiers would burn, the houses would go up in flame green as grass that would burn for an entire day." I said as though it were as simple a fact as the sun rising in the east. For Visenya, for me now, it almost was. As much as I hated it.
Happiness welled up in me as I saw him freeze up for a moment. He set down his fork.
"Why do you not simply take the city as you say, then?" He asked, his dark eyes avoiding my face. Is he afraid of me? The idea hurt.
"I told you, I do not want to kill more than is necessary. I do not want anyone to die if I can help it. I do not find any pleasure in dealing death, nor in war." I snorted, I imagined the real Visenya would have screamed. Hell, even Rhaenys would find it confusing I imagine. It was still strange that such a nice woman could find war fun. "When lords go to war, it's men like you who suffer." G-d, I sound like a cheesy politician. I meant it though. Even if part of me liked the idea of glory, war felt wrong.
Lothar's face went through expressions ranging from thoughtful to nervous and then to thoughtful again. "I might be able to help you." He looked like the words had been almost forced from his lips.
"Oh?" I tried to keep the surprise from showing. Could it be? Hope welled up. I forced my tone to be more even, harder, "How will you help?"
"My son is in the city watch. Without him I would have to pay more coming into Duskendale, my boy ha-"
"How does that help me, Lothar?"
He frowned, before nodding his head, "He commands one of the gatehouses, my lady."
I could not keep myself from smiling. "You can get him to leave one of the gates opened, then?" I wanted to laugh.
"I will need gold for him to bribe men with." He seemed to be more comfortable now.
Something in me felt cold. Is he playing me? "What do you want?" I could not stop myself from speaking before I could say the words in anything other than an accusing tone. My hand on the hilt of my dagger.
Lothar looked nervous, "Promise me, you will not unleash your dragon on the town. T-that is all I wish. Do not let your soldiers sack Duskendale. For my family's safety."
A facepalm would have been appropriate. Of course he wants that. Not everybody is trying to take advantage of you. Old habits died hard after all. But I'd been burned enough in my life. Am I paranoid? I wanted to think the best of people, so I hoped that was enough.
I lied back in the chair, not enough to tip it back, but still. "Five silver crowns now, and three gold coins when we take Darklyn's coffers. I won't have them paid upfront only for them to weasel out of it. Tell your son that." I frowned as I realized something.
"How do you plan to get in? To contact your son? I doubt they will be opening the gates during a siege.
"They will let me in, no doubt. I may have to bribe a guard or three but they will let me into the city."
He explained his plan to me. He would enter the city, make contact with his son, and by night he would have the gates left open. The west gate, not the south. After that, marching straight down the main road and to the Dun Fort itself, as the only men there would be household guards. With a gate taken, there was the chance that they might surrender right then. Especially if I were to fly in on Vhagar. I promised I would reimburse him for money he spent bribing guards.
I took the plan, and the man himself to my uncle. And explained it to him in our mother tongue.
Daemon turned to Lothar and addressed the man, "Be on your way, merchant, You and your caravan will be unharmed, your horses, donkeys, servants and whatever goods you had will be returned. Remember the agreement, or your head will adorn a pike the sunset after the next." He waved a hand dismissively.
I felt my cheeks burn.
"Uncle! Until he leaves, he is a prisoner under my protection, you will not show him such disrespect." I kept my voice calm, if barely so.
"Of course, Your Grace." He said, with a flourish of his cloak as he made his way to where he'd be going below deck.
I wanted to chide him further for insulting a man I had tried to make comfortable. For not even using his name.
Not that it mattered, as Lothar was being escorted even as we spoke. It was not even late afternoon, and I felt far more tired than I should.
As Lothar was guided off the ship I followed Daemon below. Nearly bumping into a few deckhands on the way, and noting the presence of a single cat on the ship, I resisted the urge to pet it before arriving where I knew the captain's cabin would be. It was, like most things about my dear uncle, a mix of finery and comfort. With little in the way of keepsakes, from what I could tell, but I barely knew the man so I could have been wrong. My uncle was already sitting in a comfortable chair that put the one I'd used on the Sweet Sister to shame, and another chair already set out as if he'd expected I would come.
He tilted his head in amusement. "Please, sit with your uncle, Visenya. I do not believe we have ever spoken in private like this before." I tried not to meet his eyes as I sat down, and decided to speak before he could control the conversation.
"We'll need to make noise to keep the men of the south gate from finding out too soon that our men have taken the west gate. As well, we should not send in the young men, or the Westerosi. I do not trust them to follow orders in battle. I want the city taken, not sacked. It is more valuable to us unharmed. After all," I breathed in, I had been thinking on the idea for some time, "My most esteemed kinsman will be given the tariff rights for the port, and it will be richer if it is not first looted."
"And here I thought you hated me, sweet niece." He said with a smile, one that sent a chill down my spine, I could not remember him ever smiling so broadly at me before. It touched his eyes.
"I do not like you that much, no. You have never liked us either, uncle." He chuckled in response.
"You are my sister's children, for that I love you, but you are right. I like you little. And though Rhaenys may have Valaena's daring, I say you have her tongue as well as her face. Perhaps some of her boldness as well." Daemon smiled softly, part of me hurt to hear those words from him and yet craved it, "You insulted your husband thrice over, while in his presence. You even struck him from what I hear."
I froze up, "Where did you hear… any of this?" I had not struck Aegon at any point, but I had indeed insulted him. He deserved it.
"Servants talk, Visenya. As do men in the camps, if you know to listen. I heard a fair deal on Dragonstone, and more at the king's camps at the landing camps. I would recommend you stay away from wine, niece, without your sister the entire camp might have known about how you made a fool of yourself." I felt sick. How much do people know about what I do?
My black boot clad feet carried me out of the room and back to Vhagar, and a short time later, with the powerful beating of her wings we were soaring through the skies.
I realized I had forgotten to apologize to Lothar for him being roughed up.
Fuck!
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The morning air was heavy with mist as the son of the lord of Duskendale marched out to meet me in the first great courtyard of the Dun Fort. My guard of fifty heavy horse, his of a hundred footmen armored as well as any knight and twelve horsemen.
He had begged after a night of the keep under siege, after his city gate had fallen to us, and after my Vhagar had flown over their battlements with the early morning. I did not burn them as I did the men of Stokeworth.
Beside the son of the Lord Darklyn, another man carried his house's banner, black diamonds on a field of yellow below a single bar of black on which there were five gold crowns in sequence. He was… I did not imagine Robert Darklyn was any older than I. Maybe younger. His features were plain, but he held himself proudly despite his clear unease. Any man can look lordly on horseback.
On the back of my white courser, I felt just as tall.
"Your Grace, it is an honor to meet with you to discuss t-" I'd had enough. I just wanted this to end.
"Dispense with the pleasantries, Darklyn. Your city watch has abandoned you, and if you sit inside that keep of yours you will burn before noontide. You resisted, but though I will not allow you to keep your city or lands, save perhaps what might be reasonable for a poor landed knight, you will live." I spoke, with a confidence that part of me felt was unearned, but it felt wonderful to be giving commands like this.
"And if I were to tell you I have twelve crossbowmen ready to loose their bolts at my command, Your Grace?" His face seemed tired. My heart began to race.
"My dragon is outside, and she will be none too happy. Did you know that dragons frenzy on the death of a rider? It takes some time for them to come back under control." I lied. "And if you somehow managed to kill her, my brother is marching up the road with four thousand men alongside another dragon that makes mine look like a robin beside a hawk. And my sister as well, her dragon though not so great as his, is still older and stronger than my Vhagar." I smiled.
"Do you have any other questions?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, my braid touching my cloaked shoulder.
"No, it is over. I…" He got off his horse, and knelt before me, offering his blade. "Duskendale is yours, Your Grace."
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