Leaving the keep was more of a hassle than it had been at Dragonstone. When I left the castle there I required few guardsmen, but in Gulltown I needed many.
Was twenty enough? Surely few would dare assault a group of twenty.
I tried to ignore the feeling of self-consciousness as I rode on through the city. My hands rested uneasily on the reins of my palfrey, itching to touch at Dark Sister's hilt as my party made its way through the city's broader main streets, passing townsfolk in the street without so much as a glance given to them on my part.
At least in mail I was safe from being stabbed. I wished I did not have to wear armor to feel comfortable.
We passed smaller septs, wrought of stone and wood both, the larger ones often being nearest to the manses of the lords who'd paid for their construction, but those paled in comparison to the one I had come to see.
Near as fine as the Starry Sept itself. I had only seen that one in passing, and only from the outside a decade ago, but the sight of Oldtown's greatest temple to the Andal god, a structure of black marble with high vaulted windows. Reliefs of men and women and images of war and peace and love and death all carved into it. It was
gorgeous.
It was the largest sept in the world, I knew.
And Baelor outdid that, making the Starry Sept seem a hovel by comparison. A part of me remembered Daeron's part in it, but I ignored it.
Still, the White Sept, as I'd heard it called, was nearly as fine, if not as large or grand. It easily dwarfed any building around it in size, near the center of the building there was a white spire, near the top of which was a place which housed the bells of the sept, at least that was what I had been told by Lady Grafton when I had asked her. But it made sense I suppose, a grand set of bells in the highest place.
A sizable plaza lay before the seven-sided temple, that same sept which surpassed in height every other building in the city save for the secondary lighthouse at the port and the keep of the Graftons. The sounds of the city drowned out in the steady rhythm of my palfrey's hooves meeting the stone of the streets. I focused on the rhythm to calm myself..
The plaza was dotted with well-tended trees, saplings and great old oaks, ponds, gardens of flowers, and white marble fountains. Several of which stood before the entrance to the Sept proper. Gilded falcons in flight, their talons grasping crystal stars. Both the marble and the gold were polished to a fine gleam, reflecting the light of the sun in a way that the gilding and the prismatic light of the crystal seemed to mingle.
There were no walls surrounding the plaza.
Why would there need to be? A part of me thought, as I noticed the approach of more than a few dozen men before the polished bronze doors of the sept. Immediately to my right, my guardsmen had their hands on their weapons, and I had my hand on Dark Sister's hilt once more as the men left the shadow before the great doors of the sept.
Men in silvered-mail and helms, their cloaks of many colors shimmering in the sun. The fabric was not merely painted, but looked as though the rainbow of colors moved from one color to the next in seamless fashion, and then back, sometimes multiple colors mixing in the same place, almost metallic, changing their hue as they moved. While the pommels of their swords were crystal.
These men were the only walls the sept needed. They and their chapterhouse.
"Halt! What business have you in the house of the gods, that you do not even announce your coming, but ride so brazenly as though you own it. Answer quickly!" Came the voice of the man at the front, his face was lined, and if I had to guess he looked closer to sixty than to fifty. With a strong build and broad shoulders, though shorter than average. His helm was crested with a star-shaped crystal catching the light and bathing his clean-shaven face in a faint prismatic glow.
I kept my breathing steady, and my posture straight as I looked down upon the man from atop my horse.
"Are not all welcome to see the Sept?" A scowl creased his features as I spoke, and I continued, "I wish only to see the Sept, and the Septon in charge here, Ser."
Daemon, my uncle, spoke up, "And would you truly raise your sword against her? You are sworn to defend all women, I swore those selfsame vows not so long ago, and my sons took them when I knighted them."
What do those vows mean when a knight takes his plunder, when a lord looks the other way? But men valued their honor, and my unc-, Lord Velaryon, at least, knew that.
The man did not relax one bit, his hand still at the hilt of his sheathed sword, palm on the star-shaped crystal pommel.
"I am sworn also to defend those who cannot defend themselves, and my charges in the Sept are among those." His face was as hard as stone, his bright blue eyes meeting my purple.
"The Silent Sisters are at work preparing what few men have been fished from the waters of the bay, thanks to you and the dem-" He bit his tongue, and I gripped the reins of my palfrey almost reflexively, "Guests and supplicants to the White Sept of the Gull do not come garbed for war, and I would ask you to disarm. To hand your weapons over to I and my brothers in arms until such a time as you leave." His voice was even, and calm. But I gripped Dark Sister's hilt in response by reflex. I suddenly felt almost naked, even in the mail I bore.
If it came down to it, I could slay him, maybe another.
Could you? It made me sick to think.
Even if I could, there are hundreds of them nearby. If it came to a fight, I would have to hope I could make it back to the keep in time.
On Vhagar, none would be able to harm me.
Every man had their hands on their weapons, as far as I could see, and for several moments I knew not what to say, I wanted to say that I did not feel safe being disarmed, that I did not trust them, but before I could speak a word the doors to the Sept were flung open, and without thinking my attention was drawn to it.
The knights looked there as well, as five men stood in the doorway, and I could see that behind the large bronze gates were doors wrought of silver, and one man raised a hand and looked directly at the holy knight that seemed to be in charge.
"What cause is there for the conflict outside this holy place, my son?" His voice was kind, warm, like that of an indulgent grandfather. For a moment, I missed my own.
The knight bowed his head, and got down on his knees before the man. As though expecting to be chastised.
"Septon Elys, I have asked these… guests, to lay down their arms. As all pilgrims to the Sept must do. They came without notice, ahorse, as you see, and in a group of twenty." I was not looking at him, but I could
hear the distaste in his words, "One at least among them claims knighthood, but that does not allow the rest to bear their arms on these grounds."
"Peace, knight-captain." The man who spoke was garbed in white robes, with bands of rainbow colors at the cuffs and a seven-colored belt at his waist set with a crystal the size of a robin's egg. Both shimmering as the light of the sun touched them. His hair was like a lion's mane, long and white though with darker patches at the temples and near his ears.
Bearded, there were some few strands of grey and black in his beard which went down to his belly. His face was long, and creased by a gentle smile, and his deep-set eyes were dark, almost flint-like. A circlet of crystal rested atop his head, and a necklace of the same about his neck, taking in the sun, and seeming almost to come alive with the light, as if capturing it.
He looks almost a wizard out of a story. A part of me thought. I remembered that Aegon had liked those stories when we were children.
He placed a hand on the shoulder of the knight, "Rise, Ser Arnold, and allow me to speak with our guests, I would ask that you return to your duties with haste. You and your brother knights both."
"As you will." Came the voice of the holy knight, and he led the others with him toward the western end of the plaza, and I looked back at the septon.
When his eyes met mine, I felt for a moment as though only he and I were there, almost pinned by his gaze.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, your grace?" Septon Elys' voice was not so warm as it was with his knight-captain, closer to neutral, even disdainful, if anything. A part of me bristled at that.
I glanced for a moment to the west, at the backs of the knights, their vibrant cloaks almost glittering in the light of the sun.
Perhaps…
Meeting the eyes of the Septon full on, despite my discomfort, I breathed in, trying to bury the feeling of nervousness, I could almost feel every eye upon me.
If I keep you in mind, perhaps it will not be a betrayal. He knew my thoughts, after all. I hoped the words I said would not displease Him.
The words that came out of my mouth felt like poison, they felt like fire, my tongue leaden, "I do not know them, but I would like to know more of your gods, as those of my ancestors are not the gods I wish to worship."
Her ancestors, not yours.
I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, my heart feeling as though it was going to break from my chest as the Septon's expression turned from almost adversarial to seemingly delighted.
"Of course, all are welcome in the most holy sept. Come down from your horses, and let us speak further!"
----------------------------------------------
My gold-trimmed purple cloak shifted with each step I took further into the Sept, my coterie behind me, save for Daemon who stood nearest to me. I'd seen the sword belted at his waist, and from the way he moved he looked like he was ready to use it.
"I am not your guard," He had said before we left the keep "but with your tongue and insistence on not bringing your Vhagar... you may find need of me.".
He can't let his ticket to prosperity and greater prestige just be slain in a sept, after all. I frowned as I glanced around, more focused on what might be out of sight than what was in front of me. The septon's words as he guided us through were a mild buzz.
A part of me was worried that this was a trap, that at any moment the septon would call for his Swords, a hundred hidden behind some shadowy corners, and that would be the end of it. I would be imprisoned, or worse.
Another wondered if Aegon would care enough to threaten dragonfire if I were not freed. Both parts wondered if even
Rhaenys would. A woman who burned castles like they were just piles of leaves to be blown aside, a woman who was closer to Aegon anyway. In the story I remembered, Rhaenys' death had been a tragedy that had pushed her siblings to the brink, but would my death be an acceptable casualty of war?
But no men came out, and the sept was lit well enough that they could not hide even if they wished. As we entered the building proper and not only the entryway hall I had to keep from staring, mouth agape, even for a moment.
It was finer than any church I had ever seen in my life.
Churches from my home had been sparsely decorated at best. White walls, maybe some paintings here or there, nothing special. My memories of the only Basilica I had ever been inside were dim at best.
The image of a boy fussing at being anointed as part of baptism, red carpeting, white walls, bells, flashed in my memory for a moment. I shoved it away.
This sept, this White Sept, was adorned with decoration, which we saw as we were guided through the halls past the entrance, the silver doors when closed had shown the figure of a man holding a hammer, beside a man bearing a sword on the other door. Fine rugs stretched through the well-lit hallways, and the flooring was of polished stone.
My eye was drawn to the walls which were decorated with marble paneling, and painted scenes on which the seven-pointed star was always prominent. Whether they be scenes of men or women picking fruit, or of craftsmen at work, or of men garbed in shining steel defending crowds from a rampaging dragon.
I could not help but smile at that.
A man alone can not slay a dragon. A thousand men on foot could not slay one dragon in the skies. Let alone one guided by a rider.
But the works were lovely, and scents of incense, though dull, were easy to pick up on as I, and those with me walked through, deeper into the building and up a few raised steps of white marble, and the Septon ordered another set of doors opened by the young men serving as doorwardens. These doors were of some white wood I did not know, and gilded and painted. A man with an upraised hand, his head nearing the top of the ten foot tall door, looking down upon all who saw him. He was bearded, and robed like a king.
I felt my breath catch in my throat for a moment as a multi-colored light seemed to cover areas of the room, though it was faint. Golden-rimmed mirrors covered most corners of the chamber, near to the high-placed and large windows beneath the vaulted ceiling. In many places there were also crystals.
Of course… the crystals. And the mirrors must…
I could not keep my lips from curling in a smile, and the Septon Elys seemed to take that as an invitation to speak.
"At mid-day, and during the service when the Sept is lit with the light of a thousand candles and all are singing, when the light of the sun is turned just in the right manner by the mirrors, it bathes this chamber in the light of rainbows, such that you would feel you are caught almost in a vision of the Visitation, no, a slice of the seven heavens themselves. Alas, that you are late for it, the old king gave much and more to our fair Sept, and his wife completed that work not so long ago."
"Hmmph. It is not so different in some other septs. In that which I had built at Driftmark there are crystals nearest the west windows that turn the light which pours in to the sept into rainbows." Daemon sounded amused and intrigued.
Septon Elys merely smiled at my uncle, and laughed softly, "Lord Velaryon, that is but a paltry trick compared with the wonders wrought within a great sept such as my own."
"Or the Starry Sept, I visited it once in my youth, and within that sept the light was bent in such a way that a vision of the heavens as though beneath a twilight sky, aglitter with golden stars under its black dome and reflecting down onto the black marble floor. The pillars of gold-flecked black marble there held the statues of the Seven-Who-Are-One within their gold-ridged plinths save for the Father alone." My uncle's voice was almost bored, and yet there was a barb to it that I had never heard before.
Is… is he.. Trying to provoke.. I opened my mouth to command him to stop but the septon spoke before I could.
"Their idol of the Father, wrought in the image of Hugor Hightower and sat upon a golden throne beneath the starry skies. Yes, I am well aware of the inside of the Starry Sept, and I dare say I knew it when your father was but an accomplice in the less savory deeds of his lord." Septon Elys' voice was kind still, but the tone was sharp, "But the Septon of Oldtown holds no sway in these halls, nor should his seat be of any concern on this day."
I caught a hint of what looked like surprise in my uncle's features, or at least… what I assumed was surprise. I hoped it was at least, I needed to read people better if I was going to be interacting with them more.
A Queen can't be at the mercy of every socially adept creative liar.
Whatever it was, it was gone in a flash.
"Any stories you might have heard of my father were rumors and drunken sailor's stories, I assure you of that." I did not need to see my uncle's face to hear the slight smirk which no doubt 'graced' his features. I wondered how much of it was forced. "I am glad to know you have heard of my family, however. Well enough to know our name at the least."
And of course, he failed to mention my grandfather when dismissing those 'stories'.
"I know the names of every house for every castle of import from Breakwater to Stonedance, Lord Velaryon, of course I would know of you and yours. It gladdened me when your family embraced the Seven, for it was proof that even the proudest of the blood of godless Valyria could be brought into the light, but do not test my patience. Nor mistake my kindness for weakness." Elys sighed, and held himself straighter, "It is your queen for whom this visit is allowed, and it is to her that I will speak."
Turning his gaze to me, he stroked at his beard, looking nothing so much like the wizard I had first thought of when I saw him. "I must ask you to wait here, your grace. There is something to which I must attend." I took a breath, and nodded my head, my silver braid moving slightly.
"Of course, Septon Elys. Do as you must." He merely smiled before walking toward the left end of the chamber, toward another set of doors and surely another set of rooms. His right foot dragged all the while, and I watched until he was gone.
Looking up to the crystals and the mirrors in their high places, I felt a slight downward tug of my lips.
Who was the old king he's speaking of? Sharra's husband? A pang of distrust went through me as I wondered if perhaps he'd run off to fetch some guards, loyalists to the Arryns. Men in blue and white, bearing the falcon and full moon upon their shields and ready to sink steel into my flesh.
I tried to quash the feeling.
He was speaking history, not some current alliance to bring you down. A part of me felt almost soothed by that as I looked around, idly noting that some of those with me were doing the same.
Besides, I looked around, noting that others were doing the same,
if he wished, he could simply order the Swords and Stars and that would be the end of things. I wanted to laugh, and simply took to walking about the chamber.
A part of me just feeling tempted to find some dark corner to hide in as I watched those with me take to inspecting the place.
Others went to light a candle before one of the idols. Humming softly, I went to examine them closer. Each was made of some fine material, some polished stone or another, each with differently colored eyes of gemstones, and garbed in silks as though they were living.
The statues were wrought masterfully, looking almost as though they were living men save for the colored stone of their 'flesh'. Golden candelabra held seven candles each, all of the candles of different colored wax, and released soft, pleasant scents as they burned, lit by those in prayer.
Most of those with me who had gone to pray had lit candles before the Warrior. The sword of that idol was fitting for his giant-like stature, the blade at least seven feet in length, if I had to guess.
My uncle, at least, seemed to be away from the rest. Praying before the idol of the Father, the Father who was robed in white and gold, crowned with a circlet that was encrusted in gems of seven colors, bearing a white wood, perhaps weirwood, scepter topped with a crystal the size of a fist.
Who are you praying for? What? Did he want prosperity? Safety? Was it hope that his sons would come back to him alive?
I would have prayed for home, and a hug from… anyone that loved me, if G-d would have granted such a request. A part of me felt ashamed.
The L-rd is not a genie. He does not exist to serve my desires.
Looking again around the room, I calmed myself with a breath and focused on the walls. It was easy to miss them at first glance, but the carvings were superb. I wondered how many men had spent their days on this place, how many lives of men the Sept had stood for, and if anything I made would last as long.
I was saved from my brooding by the return of Septon Elys.
He and I were to speak, what was important enough to cause him to delay that?
----------------------------
There is more wealth in this Sept than in all of Dragonstone and Driftmark put together.
Even Lord Redwyne's halls were quaint compared to the lavishness on display, and Lord Redwyne was richer than all the Narrow Sea lords combined. It stung at some part of me, to realize that. Dragonstone had its own wealth, but it was old wealth, not wealth that represented the circumstances of her… of my house, as it was in these days.
"Are you well, your grace? I have brothers skilled in healing that could lay hands upon you, or mayhaps you might wish the service o-" I cut the Septon off.
My cheeks were burning, I realized.
Fool girl.
"I am fine, Septon Elys." I wanted to cringe, as I had not meant to use so harsh a tone, "I am merely…" I bit my lip for a moment, "Lost in the beauty of the Sept. No temple I have been inside could match it."
That was the truth at least, the Starry Sept was grander on the outside, but I had only ever seen it in passing while ahorse, or on dragonback. It was a truth that seemed to satisfy Septon Elys at least, as he simply smiled broadly, and led me through another set of doors, these ones of ebony wood, and carved with the image of a woman with a creased face and bearing a lantern in one hand, beckoning the viewer with another.
A part of me wanted to turn back. I had not even wanted to enter into this Sept much if I could help it at all. I had left behind all those who had come with me into the sept when Elys had asked for a private meeting, and I felt less safe than ever.
I touched Dark Sister's leathery handle, and breathed out. I felt only slightly better.
"It is the chamber of the Crone, your grace. For decisions to be made in wisdom, and for privacy." Elys' voice was warm, almost soothing.
I forced a laugh, "Would not whatever chamber for the Stranger you have be more private?"
Elys frowned, and shook his head wearily as we entered the chamber itself, and closed the doors behind us, "None save the Silent Sisters are allowed within the House of the Stranger, for it is where they do their work of preparing the dead."
"It echoes, does it not, my brother?" I felt my heart nearly leap from my chest as my hand went to Dark Sister's handle, and I turned to face the man who had spoken. His hair was curly, and dark with reddish streaks.
Ghiscari?
He laughed, "Ahhh, you must be the guest of whom my brother in faith has spoken. I am Brother Lotho, of the most godly city east of the Sunset Lands."
"You are Braavosi." I recognized the accent, at least. It was fascinating, almost. A Faithful Ghiscari man from Braavos.
A true mongrel I shoved the thought away.
How many more are there like him in Braavos?
"My mother was, at least. My father was a rower from Volantis. Or so the Brothers told me, I was a foundling. But the only father I care to know is the Father Above." He rubbed at the seven-colored belt at his waist, standing beside Septon Elys his less fine though still well-made white robes contrasted with the ornate finery of the Septon of Gulltown. Behind them, at the end of the chamber was an idol of a woman with similar features to the one on the door, carved entirely of some sort of glassy-looking grey stone, the light of its held lantern reflecting off topaz eyes.
The idol was larger than those in the center chamber, and it made me uncomfortable.
I took a small breath, and relaxed, "You mentioned that there is an… echo?" My curiosity was piqued, and I felt the need to know.
Brother Lotho turned to the septon, and Elys, who looked more amused than anything, just went to sit on the only chair in the chamber. A cushioned seat of white wood, looking as though it were wrought for a man twice his size.
The brother seemed to take that as an approval as he spoke, his pearly white teeth reflecting the candle-light somewhat, and I noticed one was missing, a bottom front tooth, "I have heard tales from it even as far as my home, that even the faintest footstep becomes the thundering march of a thousand men within those hallowed halls of the dead."
"Some go so far as to call it the Chamber of the Mystery, for no man knows why it echoes as it does." Elys added, "It is a mystery for the gods alone to know."
I felt my interest waning, and stroked at the end of my braid. "Though echoes are not why you brought me here, I hope."
Elys smiled, and shook his head softly, "No, and I sense you are impatient. As all youths are."
I wanted to protest, for one I was a woman of seven-and-twenty. I was no youth.
My life is over a third of the way done, if the original Visenya is any indication. I only hoped I did not die as badly as she had.
Was it cancer, or poison? Either of them sounded awful.
But he wasn't wrong, I
was feeling impatient. I wanted to be done with this as soon as possible. Every second within this sept made me feel uncomfortable. Like I was lying to the world more than I already was.
You are not lying. You are her, and yourself. It felt easier to think that now.
I breathed deeply, and tried to ignore brother Lotho as I replied, "Then let us speak."
I knew why I had wanted to come here, but a part of me could not resist broaching the question, "I am but a woman born of the blood of Valyria, in our house we kept to whatever gods my father and his father held, and though I know little of the Seven… I have heard enough that I find myself confused, Septon." I did not know how to phrase it, and so I hoped I was not fucking this up overly much, my throat felt dry and I swallowed to try and speak more easily, "How can you have one god, but also seven?"
A part of me vaguely remembered something, and another part wanted to kick Visenya for not knowing more, I felt like I was wading into the deep end like some overeager child desperate to prove they were mature enough to swim unsupervised.
Lotho glanced Elys, and Elys merely waved him off and answered with a smile, stroking his beard all the while,
"It is not like your gods, or, from what said before the Sept, the gods your family held but you do not now?" He stopped for a moment before continuing, smiling ever wider, "In each of the Seven resides also the other aspects, and in truth all of the Seven could be split further or worshiped in that way and still all would be merely part of the same whole, indivisible. In the sword of the Warrior there is as much justice as is wielded by the Father, and in the Maiden death is as present as the Stranger if roused to fierceness. In the Smith's hammer one can find as much wisdom as in the Crone. " Every word now he spoke with greater enthusiasm, brother Lotho having to move out of the way as Septon Elys paced about, never once taking his eyes from me.
I wanted to leave, a tenseness in my legs seeming to grow ever more, and a discomfort that I quashed.
You are a dragon.
Septon Elys stopped beside me, resting a large, wrinkled hand on my armored shoulder, and I resisted the urge to slap it off, "Indeed, even in the gods of your ancestors there must rest a kernel of truth, and in that kernel one can find the Seven-Who-Are-One. No matter that the ways of the Freehold were misguided, and turned to wicked ends against their fellow man, all can find the light of the Seven if they try, and in that become close to God."
I frowned slightly, glancing back at the idol of the Crone, "And that," I pointed at it, "The gods, G-d, is meant to be beyond our understanding. We are mortal, we are limited, and yet those idols are… You frown on idolatry and yet there are those idols, are you not worried that men and women might be led astray? You divide the godhead to begin with, how many men and women might now think that there are seven gods rather than one? Or that they are separate rather than united? I am not versed in the mysteries of the Faith, but to me it seems odd to divide them at all. It seems one step from the worship of many gods, or just the worship of many gods while claiming they all are one."
My heart skipped a beat as I worried I might have gone too far.
Septon Elys laughed earnestly, and seemed to relish my questions as he toyed with the end of his beard, "Ahhh, there is that youthful fire! The gods, or god, made us curious and gave us the power to reason. All that we may come to the light of god all the more fully. Do you hear this, Lotho my brother? This is the sign of a healthy convert, she has thought her questions through and brought them to one who might answer them and correct them in their errors."
I forced a faint smile, glancing over every corner of the room, as the septon took his time.
"I am a shepherd, your grace. My task is to chastise those who break the laws of gods and men, to guide my flock, not to shackle those who have made not a single mistake." He shook his head, white hair shifting with every movement, "There is nothing against the idols, not in the Seven-Pointed-Star nor in any book I am aware of, nor has any septon preached against them." He continued, "Indeed, why should they? The idols, just as the aspects, make the godhead understandable for the average man and woman, for the fisherman at the pier to the washerwoman who toils for her mistress, and so long as it is clear that the godhead
is and that it is supreme, then what harm is there in allowing such things that beautify the Faith? For a man of craft to work with his hands and exercise the gifts that god has granted him is a work of worship and devotion in itself, and so those works you fear may cause the Faithful to stray will only help bring the light of the Seven-Who-Are-One into the hearts of every man and woman and child who gazes upon them."
Shaking his head, he followed up almost breathlessly, "To worship one thousand gods and not truly revere any, and to place oneself above the gods as did your ancestors is far worse than harmless idols." The last he said with his lips curled in a frown, like a saddened father.
Those words, and the way he had said them, with such certainty had only made a part of me want to yell. A part I had to suppress. A part that seethed at that claim.
The religion of the heartlands was not so simple as that. Not so base. A thousand heroes for dozens of families over the centuries, many gods both great and small, gods for the hearth, gods for the sword fresh from the forge, gods for the newly born as well as the long dead.
They were not gods for the Andals, not for anyone but the Children of Valyria!
A part of me, the part that I considered…
me… was surprised at how much feeling there was there. She may not have been a truly pious woman, but those were her gods… and I felt a connection to them too.
And I felt guilty that I did.
I sighed. There was a pulsating pain behind my eye, or to the right of it, and I simply quashed the protests I felt, and nodded, my braid shifting with my head movement, and a dull ache in my head for a brief moment.
"Of course, Septon." I had not the energy to argue, nor was I a rhetorician, not a trained theologian to argue with a man who had likely spent decades educating himself. It galled at me, I was a woman of seven-and-twenty, and if both of my years were added I could be over fifty.
But that's not how it works. You aren't fifty, you are yourself. No more, no less.
And right then, I felt like an ignorant child by comparison. I wished my sister were around, not Rhaenys, but the woman who I had considered a sister when I was…
before all of this. She would have known what to say, how to argue with someone like this. How to articulate my points better than I could.
I felt like an idiot, a failure, a child playing at being smarter than I actually was. My sister was always smarter than me. More articulate. The image of Rhaenys flashed in my mind, alongside a dim image of a darker woman, with dark hair and eyes.
My face burned with… humiliation? Fury? Fury at myself or the men before me. My vision narrowed with every moment, and my hands balled into fists.
Weak. Stupid. Girl.
If my hands had not been gloved then my nails would have surely broken skin
"We are
done, I am done here, I…" I breathed, and slowly.. Ever so slowly, the world seemed to come back into view. Wiping my forehead, I realized I had somehow managed to sweat slightly, and met the gaze of the expectant men, "I… apologize, for arguing when I should not have. It was unbecoming." Forcing the words out was an effort in itself.
Septon Elys' face betrayed a tiredness that he had not shown at all previously, and a part of me wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but he merely smiled and patted at my shoulder without a hint of discomfort, "You did not come here to be instructed in the mysteries of the Faith, your grace. I know that, mayhaps we should move on to what you came here to discuss with me, I suspect you wanted more from me than the instruction of some Septa that might be sent with you, and I believe we might be able to aid each other."
A part of me felt like a chastised child, caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Another part was just relieved to be finished with the conversation, and move onto what I had actually come to the Sept to talk about.
And so we did.
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Looking ahead, always ahead as the moon began its rise in the sky and first cool breezes of the night caressed my cheeks, I felt tired. I felt
drained. I had been more successful than I had even dared to hope, but all I wanted to do was sleep.
My stomach grumbled as if to remind me to do something else first.
"You certainly took your time, niece." Daemon's voice grated on my nerves, and I wanted to slap him as he rode closely beside me in the column. The burgeoning light of the rising moon mingled with that of the lanterns carried by my guardsmen and reflected off the sapphire pommel of his ivory-hilted sword.
A part of me did not want to so much as respond. There were nearly twenty with us, and the thought of people listening in on some casual conversation grated at me. Another part did not care, if my lessers wished to listen, let them. How many of them could understand High Valyrian?
"You are fortunate Septon Elys did not take umbrage with your blatant insults to his church."
As though I am any better. I couldn't keep my mouth shut, and if he had been a less kind man…
My uncle tilted his head slightly in confusion at that last, and I sighed when I realized what I had said. "Sept, uncle." I did not want to explain, and it did not matter either. "He is an important man, and if he were not so good-natured we would have been imprisoned or at the least banished from his sight."
The Lord of the Tides simply replied, "It is because he is an important man that you should not thank him, nor trust him."
"So you are saying I should not trust you, then?" The words were out faster than I could process them.
"
Do you trust me?" Daemon smiled lightly, looking almost young for a moment, the few lines of his face smoothing out. I glared at him and could almost feel my eyes straining.
He looked almost smug, like he was dangling something in front of me. I felt my vision narrow, and my face heat up.
"Out with whatever you have to say. You are acting like half a boy, worse than my brother." For a moment, I remembered the grin Aegon wore as he teased Rhaenys when we were children. For a moment, I missed the boy who had only ever wanted to play or ride with me, and who had viewed Rhaenys as a nuisance.
My heart panged at the memory of Rhaenys crying after an annoyed Aegon had kicked sand in her eyes.
She was five. And children are cruel. Another part was happy, at least, that Rhaenys was happy now.
A part of me just wished Balerion had eaten him whole.
"-e" I blinked, and shook my head as I realized I had lost track of… something.
Oh…
We were closer to the keep now, farther up the wide main road and its paved street, and I blinked again. Feeling my cheeks burn as I forced myself to meet my uncle's eyes.
"Are you unwell?" My uncle's pale face, illuminated by the early light of the moon, was flat in expression, as much as I could read anyway.
"I am fine, I merely am in need of some rest after speaking with Septon Elys and Brother Lotho for so long." A part of me wished I had not stopped at the Sept at all, but the rewards were worth the trouble.
Daemon snorted, "Septon Lotho, now. Or at least he will be when my ships take him to Braavos." I caught a flicker of a frown before it passed from Daemon's features, and decided to focus instead on my gloved hands, and the reins I held.
"Do you… dislike the decision I made?" I asked, sitting up as straight as I could, drawn up as much as possible, as I looked Daemon in the eye, despite the discomfort I felt at doing so, "Make no mistake, uncle. I would gladly sell five of your ships for even a tenth of what it gained us today."
"What did it gain you, truly?" He raised an eyebrow, sounding more curious, but also casually dismissive, "Five-hundred swords, under the Septon's command still, niece. And the assurances that
mayhap he will send messengers urging the septons east of the Mountains of the Moon to surrender to you and your family."
I gripped the reins of my palfrey tighter.
Forcing a smile, I replied, "Five-hundred swords, and the banner of the Warrior's Sons marching beside us will do much to help convince others to bend knee." I had hoped for men from the Poor Fellows, Stars as they were called, as well, but five-hundred Swords had been more than I had hoped for going in, "As well, that is five-hundred knights who are not in Gulltown to cause problems to those we leave behind. All that in exchange for sending the man he appointed to the Sept-Beyond-the-Water."
And authority over the Faithful in Crackclaw Point as well as the Narrow Sea. I frowned, it was yet another promise that might have been stepping on Aegon's toes. But I would cross that bridge when I came to it.
Speaking of stepping on the toes of proud men… I whistled at my uncle, and that got his attention well enough.
"Lord Velaryon, when we return to the keep, summon the lords. I do not care if they are asleep, we need to speak before the night is done."
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The night sky was beautiful from what I could see of it. Untouched by light pollution and the light of the moon streaming in through the window. Stars,
so many stars. It was beyond merely beautiful to me.
And no strain for my eyes. No strain from poor sight or a wandering eye at least, and that was a blessing.
I could not keep from smiling as I thought of it, resting in a comfortable chair certainly helped. But after a moment the euphoria disappeared like it had never been there to begin with.
My head felt heavy, like it was stuffed with cotton and someone was pressing down on it with their foot. My body was fine, and though the mail was a weight I had borne until a short time before, it was not anything I couldn't have worn all day with ease if it came down to it.
Not that armor would have been appropriate for eating in. I smiled at the dark blue linen sleeve of the tunic I wore, silver scrollwork at the cuffs and along the sides.
I was just tired.
Picking at the half-eaten fish with a fork, I sighed. It was not poor fare, not really. It had been prepared well enough, and cooked in such a way that it almost soaked in the taste of the spices used on it. I couldn't even think about eating, however, only about the meeting I had called.
Any minute someone could barge in and… I scowled, I had been thinking that for the past… it felt like half an hour. If I had just ignored that feeling I would have finished my meal by now. Grabbing the sole remaining pear from a wooden bowl, I bit down into the fruit, ripened and juicy and sweet.
A part of me just wanted to be back at Dragonstone.
At least there, I know what every day will bring. But if I went there, it'd just be to a skeletal garrison and people who would kiss my feet if I gave the order. Them and men like Haeron,
lickspittles and peasants.
I wanted to eat with Rhaenys, ride and talk and
do things.
G-d, I need someone to talk to. Vaeron was gone with Aegon, Rhaenys was in the south with Orys, and Corlys went with Aegon as well.
Just thinking about it made my heart hurt, and seemed to press down on me like a heavy weight.
A bed… G-d, sleep would feel wonderful…
A knock at the door brought me back to reality, and a rather uncomfortable looking man, perhaps in his thirties, dressed in the livery of the household, was standing before me beside the opened door.
"This had better be important!" The words came out far harsher than I meant them, but I couldn't find it in me to care enough to feel bad.
The man bowed his head, "T-the lord Velaryon has commanded that I inform you of the arrival of the lords of the host!"
Whatever short burst of energy I'd had from the anger faded like the morning mist, and sighing deeply, I stood up from my chair, my body felt fine, but my mind felt like I had been working for a week.
"Tell him I will be there shortly." I waved the man off, and did not bother to watch him scarper off as I rinsed my hands.
Once this is over, I can relax for a day.
It did not take long for me to prepare. When I left it was with Dark Sister belted at my waist, and my gold-trimmed cloak flowing behind me. A part of me felt uncomfortable without armor, in this place, at this time, but I ignored it.
A short time, perhaps longer than I'd thought, as the moments seemed to pass more quickly while I was guided through the keep's halls, past the tapestries and the works of art in the areas more meant to be shown off, and then through to one of the rooms I'd had set aside in one of the towers for this meeting.
There was an uncomfortable silence, not a man spoke as I arrived out from the doorway into the room.
Sparsely furnished, there was a table nearest the center where every lord was in attendance. From Lord Massey with his long honey-blonde mustache to the nephew of Lord Boggs dressed more for sleep than for a meeting.
"Our Queen deigns to honor us with her arrival!" Came the agitated, strained voice of Lord Brune.
I ignored that and simply spoke.
"I am glad that you have all come, despite the late hour." The hour of the bat, if I remembered the name the Westerosi used for it. The only Clawman to seem even remotely happy was Lord Crabb, the others, clad in either armor or clothing hastily thrown on were varyingly looking disgruntled or disinterested.
"I am grateful to you all, for you have come at my summons, and done so with haste. We will be discussing our plans for the Vale, as after tomorrow we will be leaving Gulltown. We have spent enough time here."
I felt a strain in my chest that wasn't normally there, and breathed softly though tried to ensure my tone was as clear and strong as I could make it.
"Most of you will be leaving for Redfort, and for the other keeps along the way. You will be marching slowly along the west road to secure the holdfasts and castles and towns, I will join you after I have dealt with the Royces and their nearby allies. I will be marching with some few of my Dragonstone and Driftmarker men, as well as five-hundred knights loaned so generously to our cause by the good Septon of this city. Others among your men shall be staying here to garrison the city. My uncle shall be sailing to Witch Isle to secure its submission."
Blinking, I tried to clear some of the bleariness.
"You are my lords, and if any of you have any concerns you should like to bring to my attention, let me hear them now." My father had always said to talk to underlings, know their problems. But part of me just wanted to be done with this.
"What will our shares be? If you are going to Runestone alone, the Royces are the richest here, and I wager that Redfort won't be nearly as splendid a prize." Came the mildly anxious voice of Lord Brune of Brownhollow.
For fuck's sake...
"You will get what you deserve, I promise you that. Some will be going back to the White Sept, but most of it shall be given to you who have kept faith with me."
I waited for less than a moment before the quiet was broken.
"It's a long march to Redfort, will you be supplying us or will we be forced to forage? I'm fine either way, I might even find some good coin in the foraging!" Laughed Elmar, Lord of Dyre Den.
My hands balled up into fists, and I drew myself to my full height. The image of men and women put to the sword just to fill the bellies of the men following me…
"No, most of the train will be going with you, and if you should somehow run out of food, or fodder for your horses I expect you to pay fairly for whatever you take. If I should find out that any of you have harmed my future subjects, there will be floggings. As well, any man who rapes a woman will be hanged, do you understand?"
I breathed again to try and calm myself.
"You expect us to wait for the richer prizes from Runestone, and you want us to spend our coin on fodder and food. Will you be expecting us to hire transport back home as well?" Brownhollow said.
Waving a hand, and forcing a laugh I replied.
"I will compensate you for any coin spent on food and fodder. Do not worry." I forced a smile, "War is tiresome business, and I understand if you do not like waiting. L-rd knows I do not. I will join you in Redfort after my business in Runestone is finished. We will meet Redfort in battle together."
Did I already say that? I did not remember.
Lord Dick Brune spoke, "I saw what a fight looks like for us when you unleashed your dragon upon the ships of the Valemen, you kill most of them and we come in and take the scraps. What glory is there in that?"
"There," Crabb pointed to the golden armband Brune wore, "There's your glory, Brune. That and a hundred more like it."
"Fuck your beggar's treasure, Crabb. We are allies for this war but the moment we are back in Crackclaw, I w-"
I cut him off, Dick Brune turning to face me as soon as I'd started talking. He was a stout man, and Rhaenys could have towered over him, I almost felt like a giant.
Scowling, I glared at him, "You will do nothing, Lord Brune. You are dragon's men now, if I hear one word that you have been fighting each other, I will not hesitate to flog you both. We are one crown, not ten, and march beneath one banner, not five."
The numbers did not matter, only the message itself.
"Is that why you have us march beneath your banner, your grace? That one you raise beside the king's own?" The words that came out of his mouth were tinged with annoyance. "All this talk of your banner, and only one in ten times do you speak of the king whom you had us swear to."
What does he care about Aegon? He has never even met him, he's only here for loot! Barely managing to keep the words from leaving my lips. I shoved that down, my face heating up.
I breathed softly, and resisted the urge to grind my teeth as I ground my pride, "The banner of my family is the highest. My personal banner below that, and yours below mine. I had thought that had made everything perfectly clear. You march in my column, but you are my family's sworn vassals."
He looked like he wanted to say something to that, but I cut him off before he could, "No, my lord, I do not think you understand. Very few of you do, it seems." I turned to every lord in attendance, and whistled, "Follow me, we will be going to the godswood. I think we should all think more clearly outside."
Before anyone could say a word, I laughed, "No, that is a command."
I walked out, and told one of the servants at the door to lead us to the godswood of the castle, and so we were, and in what seemed very little time at all to me, we arrived at the castle's godswood, lit only by moonlight and lanterns. Lord Velaryon immediately behind me, and Lord Massey beside him.
The cool night air invigorated me, though not so much as the sight of my Vhagar did, and as I made my way to her I only felt even more alive. Red shoes brushing against the soft grass of the godswood garden, Vhagar lifting her head ever so slightly, and slowly opening her eyes.
I could feel the eyes of everyone on me, from my uncle clad in his dark velvet to the nephew of Lord Boggs. All the way to the Dragonstone men at every corner of the garden, ready to act on my command.
None of those mattered as I reached into one of Vhagar's saddle-bags and retrieved her whip, then stood beside her head, stroking the scales near her eyes with a bare hand.
In the night, her eyes seemed more molten than metallic but no less beautiful for it. I wished the same could be said for her scales, the light of the moon did not bring out the color in them the way the sun could.
A part of me wanted to climb onto her back and crack the whip and fly right away.
"My lords, every part of this campaign is planned around my dragon. Without her, we would have
nothing. No chance of doing any more than perhaps raiding some poorly defended villages and towns on the coast. My Clawmen, without you, my brave and warlike and proud men, we would not have enough to take and hold the castles. Without my uncle, there is no return home save for by pushing through the high pass into the Riverlands."
I laughed, "But never forget, without Vhagar, we have nothing, and without
me, you do not have Vhagar. I did not call this meeting to hear complaints, I called it to tell you what is to be done, so that we may
all get what we came for."
The feel of Vhagar's whip in my hand made me feel powerful, as though everyone in the garden were nothing.
"But all I have gotten are complaints, and disobedience despite my best attempts to work with you, my lords." Moving beside Vhagar's head, I could
feel the heat from her nostrils, and the tendrils of smoke from her maw.
"My brother would burn men for less disrespect than you have shown to me tonight, and unlike him, I offer you more than your fathers could have dreamed of. But do not think that makes me a soft, weak, easily coerced child. One dragon broke Volantis," That it had been a smaller part of a larger coalition was something I did not care to say, "And one dragon can certainly break
you, if you insist on disobeying and starting trouble."
It was an effort and a half to keep standing properly. All I could think of was bed.
All I could hear was my own half ragged breathing, and the pounding of my heart in my own head.
Until there came the voice of Nestor Boggs, frail and sounding as old as Septon Elys had looked, "It is hard to work as one when we are so used to fighting one another, my queen. Yes, I say it now,
my queen. I am a man of the Claw, but I am
your man." With every word he sounded just a bit less frail, "When I return home laden with treasure, I shall build a sept! In your h-" He coughed,
hacked, his eyes watering as he gestured at his nephew, the reddish-brownish haired man frowning as he called for a servant to bring water for Lord Boggs.
Nestor's nephew, I could not quite remember his name, spoke up as Lord Boggs breathed small breaths, "My uncle spoke too loudly, and too forcefully. He is not an ill man, but an unfortunate one." A part of me felt guilty, if I had not called for the meeting when I did, then Lord Boggs would probably be resting soundly in bed.
I'll give him more than his share. He had spoken in my favor, and he was hurting for it. That deserved a reward at least.
It was another half-hour before things were finished.
"We have spent some time here, lords, and after tomorrow we will once more be on the march. Are there any objections?" I ended the meeting with a smile.
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Vhagar's wings beat in a rhythm I had come to be familiar with as we passed over the verdant hinterlands of Gulltown, farmlands watered by rivers which where themselves spawned from streams began as trickling snowmelt in the heights. These pasture lands were filled with herds of cattle and flocks of goats and sheep and horses. From above you could make out all the dirt tracks worn by the passing of countless feet and roads over the years, winding their way southward beneath us like ribbons. The west road forked into two parts, one bending northeasterly until it met the wider, well-paved north road leading to Runestone in an almost straight line.
Roads for farmers and travellers, but roads for soldiers too.
Roads for my soldiers.
I frowned, and shoved the feeling away. The land below was not particularly fortified. Large houses with hedges and walls dotting the landscape, but that was the extent of it. Enough to protect their fruit trees from children but not much more than that. Large inns cropped up every few miles along the roads and between the farmsteads and the townlands, in a way it reminded me of the lands along the Blackwater.
This is industrialized and rich land. Wine presses and grain mills rather than steam engines and textile factories, but the principle remains the same. I could see why so many people had interests here.
It was peaceful. A strong fleet to defend Gulltown, strong lords in the Royces, and to the west in the Redforts to prevent the passage of bandits and clansmen into the peninsula. This was the charm of the Vale. So long as their defenses held, they would know peace.
And soon it will all be mine…. But at what cost?
The image of farmlands, the golden wheat and fields of barley, the orchards laden with ripe fruit, the fields of summer flowers in bloom, the prosperous farmsteads with their little walls, all of them littered with corpses, ablaze beside the towns and markets, and broken men wandering the land without purpose filled my mind.
And you bring war to their doorstep. My heart felt like it was caught in a vise, and my vision narrowed.
I breathed in, and out. Letting the feelings and images flow out with my breath as the white walls of Gulltown came back into view over the horizon, I guided Vhagar without more than a command and basic physical motions. I wondered how much of it was my own thoughts doing so.
Do we need to even use the whip? I did not know, and I did not have the time to test anyway. So it was better to stick with the methods I knew. Rhaenys could make Meraxes do things I couldn't begin to do with Vhagar, but I could ride a horse better than her, and I was fairly sure that wasn't
magic.
Or if it was magic, it was of an everyday sort.
Wind whipped at my hair, and I tried not to look at the golden-red light of the setting sun as the clouds parted for a time.
You'll go blind, girl! Aerion had once said, when she, I, asked him about it. It was a constant temptation, a battle with myself, not to look at the sun.
So I closed the option to myself.
Closing my eyes, I could almost pretend I was back over Driftmark. The many scents of the sea drifted into my nostrils, and I exhaled, then touched at the linen scarf I wore before opening my eyes. Gulltown's walls gleamed, its many towers manned with my own fighting men.
We would leave tomorrow to march against Royce, and to secure our hold on the nearby minor lordships and of the towers and keeps of the landed knights. I had enough men, I had Vhagar, and if all else failed we could regroup at Gulltown.
Why am I still nervous, then?
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From atop my horse I could see the vibrant green of the dragon on my black banner, the silver-thread of the star glittering below, and the red dragon on black as both fluttered in the breeze beside. The morning sun made them all gleam as if alive.
Trumpeters had signaled our departure, the clear ringing of trumpeters mounted on horses giving the signal for the armies to leave, company by company, man by man.
A day for travel, but not for war.
It was early enough, almost, that I could still smell the morning dew as I broke off with my retinue and made for the docks. To the ships that waited, had not yet left, and my banner bearers continued their duties alongside Aron Celtigar in leading the train and the marching column of fifteen-hundred along the north road to Runestone. The Swords marched with them under the banner of their order and the seven-pointed star.
Green dragon men. Dragonstone men, Driftmarkers, and men from Duskendale all bore shields painted green. Aegon had sent me to the Vale with a handful of ships and a tithe of his men, but I had numbers now that were fitting for that task at hand.
Would you have liked these, love? He always did like the dramatic, the flourishes and the beautiful things, men at war, but their high banners prominent.
I hoped the men I left to keep the peace in Gulltown would be enough.
I am not Aegon, to command loyalty easily. At my urging, the horse picked up her pace and I felt a slight breeze touch at my hair, blowing a loose ponytail around like it was nothing.
Ahorse, the walls of Gulltown were intimidating. Tall and stout and sturdy barriers of stone that could withstand assault and siege. But they were my walls now, and I rode along the circuit to the docks without fear, ignoring travelers and guards alike.
I tried to ignore the buzzing in my ear. I rode faster, faster, enjoying every bounce and shift and movement in the saddle. My cloak flapped behind me and my heart bubbled with laughter all the way to my destination.
The guards and the officials of the docks paid me little mind, and I paid them even less mind as I rode in, the paved roads giving way to the slightly rougher work of the jetties and the port. Most of those with spears were my own folk anyway.Making the ride up to the decks of the carrier ship easy enough, and in no time at all I found myself before Vhagar.
Looking out from the ship, from beside the bulk of my dragon, my hands touching her warm scales, it was hard to believe that only days before men had died in sight of this place.
Harder to believe I killed them. I shook my head, and simply took in the warmth of the sun as I climbed up onto Vhagar's saddle, my whip in hand.
Idly, I noted Daemon's own fleet disappearing over the horizon.
If my luck held, Witch Isle would be ours in days at most. If my luck held, Redfort and Runestone would be ours in less than a week, and if my luck held… I would not have to fight much after Ironoaks was seized.
With a crack of the whip, I felt a familiar lurch as Vhagar began to soar, the wind whipping my hair in a way that horseback riding could not compare with, the land and sea both passing beneath me.
No, I thought,
With her, I will not need luck.
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