Siblings of the Scorned
Twenty Second Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
Daela Taelreon, Head of her House and one who had profited handsomely from taking risks and gained favor by it as much as any venturesome trade magnate or the numerous colorful personalities of martial bearing in the King's service, let the inches-thick facade of stoic resolution fade from her face the very moment she retreated from court politics in the stately halls of power among Archon's Palace, protecting her family's interests there had been for some time now wrapped up on some level with the unofficial 'alliance" she had struck up with House Targaryen, the better to keep them better abreast of matters in the city and to put a word in the right ear here or there when necessary. She knew in her mind that it was more charity on their part, on some level, but she tried to make herself useful lest they become more of a nuisance or worse, a liability.
It had like as not been disregarded by the King that his minor shows of favor were like currency, social capital at the least, which could not be extracted from the whipped backs of slaves or even by means of trade or pilfered off merchants. Many Tyroshi notables had not risen to the occasion, had not learned how to make their means of living viable in a changed world, and many had paid for it, either in blood or coin. Many of her first allies were among these, the ones with an ounce of reason or less likely sense, and from there she had managed to turn a precarious position on the edge of total ruination into one of security, even peace... in a manner of speaking.
She clutched the sealed letter in her hand, dithering over whether or not to send it.
Curse these shaking hands, she thought again, not for the first time, even after everything that had happened, after the madness had winded down nearly a year later, all the changes and the things she had learned, dozens of small kindnesses and words of encouragement from the man who had cast her father down could not erase the love she felt for him, she was
close to him, more so she out of all her siblings who could even stand to speak of him, or speak
at all, she could not understand the hate in his eyes then, the last look he ever gave her, the last words he ever spoke to her poison and bile. Like a dream one could not wake from.
How she wished with all her heart that things could be different, but she could not mend what had been broken any more than he could unmake his own mistakes, and it did her family no good to try changing it either.
Her sister was a shrinking thing now, hardly ever going outside, not even near fully recovered from the
things those men did to her. Daela was of gentle heart. She did not even consider a time where she would lift a hand to hurt someone, call them names or complain openly where it might bring shame on her father who was supposedly among the mightiest of Tyrosh's great families, though she had learned how hollow that had all been in the end. But she very much wished she could have taken a knife to each of their throats after the shock had worn off and being forced to live this life the only way she knew how, unable to help the people she cared about.
Daelon was...
different now. He wanted to become a soldier, no, a
knight, one of the sunset land's entrusted warriors, at least at first, but that had more to do with the fancy of a child who had been rescued from certain death by one. Rather than resent King Viserys for placing her over him in succession of Taelreon's remaining fortunes and holdings, he was relieved, because it meant he could chase whatever mad fancy took him next...
only was it really mad?
She didn't have as many excuses to keep him back from joining the local Scholarum branch if he wanted to learn magic, if he even could, not like when he begged her to go off to Sorcerer's Deep like so many others had. She had asked herself how much of her family she wanted to give up to King Viserys in order to keep the peace they had won, how much she was willing to sacrifice, not out of any resentment for the man who had unwittingly saved their family, given they would
not have survived had those cultists had their way in the end. But because she was just... so
very tired.
Daelon stood at the balcony of their palatial manse in the city, another thing that had changed. She kept hold of the estates in the countryside, it held too many fond memories to give it up and it was one of the few places that her sister Maraelle felt
safe, but this had been an acquisition that in her mind coincided with their turning fortunes. "What's wrong, Daelon?" She winced as he flinched, a guilty look flashing across his face briefly before it became impassive, something he had picked up over the years, the first tell that he had something to hide. He and Marae were as thick as thieves before the city had changed hands... before their lives were ripped apart and sewn back together again.
What would my mother do? She thought,
what would she say in my place?
She wasn't her mother, wasn't as smart or charming and full of life, she had her looks but that was all, that and her luck. How else could she explain everything else fortune had favored them with? A hollow laugh wanted to tear its way out of her throat at the thought. She couldn't even get her brother to look her in the eye anymore.
"Promise you won't be mad..." he spoke up, surprising her. He had never done that before. Usually he would just sulk if they argued even a little.
She clumsily stumbled through half an apology before interrupting herself. More firmly, she replied, "Daelon, never be afraid to speak your mind." She cut herself off before she said any more, seeing the beginnings of a scowl floating to his face as he likely imagined her next words, 'I just want to help you' or 'I would never be angry'. That seemed to imply she could only be disappointed by him, apparently, as it took the Queen Mother quite a bit of time to explain the one time she had run into them in the Palace on some task. Luckily she had the presence of mind to call her minders off, as they had more than likely seen off many a leech in the past, or she never would have gotten the advice that helped turned things around with her siblings.
"I want to go study, sister... plenty of other boys my age are already learning at their fathers feet or surrounded by wise men." He lifted his chin when she made to speak, likely remembering her offer to hire him some tutors. "People say things about you behind your back when I'm here... you're making things worse." The words were a knife through the heart, and she clammed up, nails digging red lines through small pale hands. Those shook, still, she noted distantly. "I hate it. I hate that they call you a thief and a... p-plenty of other bad stuff, and I can't do anything about it or they just laugh and turn it back on me, call
me weak. And because I'm here, you can't focus on helping Maraelle get better after... that." He cut himself off, amethyst eyes glaring through dark bangs, the last of the blue dye washed away from them.
She hadn't paid much attention to it before, but she realized he didn't want to be recognized for Tyroshi nobility.
And why should he, when he sees how much good the title and pomp had done him and others before, she thought darkly.
"Time for... Daelon I'm not trying to ignore either of you. I just want you to be happy..." she hated how pitiful that made her sound. If she had to choose, if it would make him happy, she would give the title back to him, make him Lord Daelon in truth and she just a fixture in the background, maybe helping things run smooth or coaxing him into finding a future wife, to both run his life and make him miserable. A weak smile graced her face at the thought, she was so distracted with her own misery she hadn't heard Daelon walk up to her. He wrapped her in an embrace and she sank into it, weak-kneed as ever. "I can't do this alone, Daelon," she whispered. "Please don't make me."
"I'm not getting rid of you and you're not getting rid of
me," he said with surprising strength. "But I think its best if we aren't together all of the time. I can always visit, far-striding stones don't cost that much, not when we're this rich. When
you're this rich.
You rule here. You can fix things for Maraelle, make her feel safe here, and if not I'll come back and help but this time with
magic. Or if I'm completely rubbish at that, I'll learn how to fight and trade and sneak or whatever else we need, and help that way." He seemed stuck on the idea that he had to be strong or resourceful to matter, but if she was being honest with herself, no more than she should he force that responsibility onto his own shoulders.
Father was supposed to rule here, she thought,
now if only he hadn't thrown it all away. She never thought 'what might Father do', anymore, she had learned enough of
that to guess at glance what it would be.
She looked out over his shoulder, to the dark of night cast away by the thousands of lanterns of witch-light and cold fire that glittered before them, Tyrosh never seeming so calm as now, the bustle of hundreds of thousands of freedmen mingled with the functionaries, the ones who worked later into the evening or just ending their shifts, to the greycloaks who kept everything in perfect order, or as near perfect as things could be in Tyrosh. As in practice that was more toward the eyes of the beholder than anything else. Men and women of status shrank away to closer and closer circles, no longer knowing how far they could throw their weight around with so many people with authority difficult to gauge, above or below them, they couldn't just order them about anymore,
they're King's Men, she thought, her closeness to his faction here had made her no stranger to the notion.
"...alright. You can go. But! Not yet." She nearly giggled when he stood back in affront, a protest dying on his lips as he considered that was the closest she had ever gotten to assent on the matter. "You're still really young, Daelon, and nothing those pests are saying about me matters, half of them need me!" She laughed at his surprise, and the fact perhaps he hadn't realized that many of those gossips were being
paid by her in one thing or another. "I can take care of myself, but you're not going to run off trying to solve all our problems before you're old enough to dress yourself without coming out as a mess."
He shuffled, offering a weak retort, "I don't need maids to get dressed... anymore. I've learned lots of things. "
"I know," she said fondly, settling down with him by the crystal lattice windows and taking in the view with him, the rich tiled roofs of the buildings below neatly arrayed row by row. "You're the only one who can coax Marae out of her shell now, though. Give her another six months, help me get her back to the way things were before, or closer to it. In the meantime, I don't even know if I have the political capital to get you a placement in the local Scholarum, who knows how far off we'll have to send you to get schooling? Volantis?" Her nose wrinkled at the thought of him not only being that far away but surrounded by strangers she couldn't trust. "You might be waiting awhile."
He scoffed, arms crossing mulishly, "It's not that hard to apply, I heard they have trouble finding enough applicants who know higher forms of script and can do sums on top of it. A proper noble is practically a steal for them, considering all the commoners who have taken up magic already." He shook his head for a wonder. "I guess the King was right when he told the Court to 'fuck off' when they complained about freedmen taking up magic here. Since if there's more people who can take up magic then they're not
that important, right?" He smirked at her scandalized expression, when had he started
cursing?
"Sorry," he murmured, laying his head on her shoulder after weathering five minutes of admonishment. "I just can't stand them."
"We'll get through this, somehow," she replied, and for a moment, there with each other and their own thoughts and worries set aside, she really believed it.
