Otto felt a strange discontent with the recent events. The discord between Viserys and Daemon was auspicious, and the penalties on the Stepstones and the Stormlands was likewise an aid to his cause. And yet, matters were not as well as they might be.
The Stormlands' diminishment is a boon now, but I'd hoped to ally with them; my hot-headed grandson has sundered that design.
He was uncertain what course to take with Aemond. The boy's dragon was indispensable – Vermithor, the greatest asset at his disposal and perhaps the sole counter to Vhagar's might. He still harbored hope that his assassins would see Laena slain when the time came, yet the enemy's heightened vigilance rendered success ever more tenuous.
Damn Elaena – of course she would act to thwart assassination. These new 'professional' knightly orders might prove an even greater obstacle than the Kingsguard.
Sending Rhaenyra to the Vale was a mixed blessing. The Vale was already inclined to support her, making its gain of little consequence. His true concern lay in the possibility that Viserys might follow through on his threat to bypass Rhaenyra's generation and name Jacaerys as heir. Such a move would shatter his strongest argument against a woman's ascension to the Iron Throne. Though it would bolster the charge of bastardy, the peril of voicing it openly was too great to ignore.
Viserys had relented on Daeron's exile, permitting his return to King's Landing – though not to Oldtown. With fortune, the boy had left a favorable impression upon the houses of Gulltown. There yet remained a chance to prevent a fully unified Vale when war inevitably came.
I must also consider what marriage pacts should be made. I have five potential pawns and should look to make use of them before Viserys finally perishes.
The first match he would push for would be his granddaughter, Daenora with Kermit Tully. Daenora was two years younger, and while Kermit Tully was only the grandson of the current Lord of Riverrun, he did stand to inherit once his grandfather and eventually his father passed. Getting Elmo and Grover Tully to agree may be a challenge, but a dragon-riding daughter of a King was a powerful match for any noble, even a Paramount Lord.
Another vexing reality was that Viserys had not waned in health, as all signs had once foretold. Otto had long been counseled that the King's excesses would see him to an early grave, yet now that fate seemed less certain. The timeline of his plans was askew.
He summoned Larys to give his report on suitable candidates for Aemond, Daeron, Uthor, and Baelon.
The man limped into the chamber and took a seat.
"I regret to inform you that I was unable to secure a marriage alliance with Lady Falwell. I would surmise that my own affliction soured our chances there," Larys stated matter-of-factly, devoid of rancor, though Otto wondered how he truly felt. "As for marriage prospects, there are some promising options."
Larys waited a few heartbeats until Otto was about to speak, and then continued.
"Dorne presents an intriguing opportunity. Aliandra Martell, heir to House Martell and future ruler of Dorne, is presently nine. Winning her hand may prove difficult, but success would secure a powerful ally. Should the Prince of Dorne refuse to betroth his heir, her younger sister, Coryanne Martell, aged six, remains an option. Aemond could suit Aliandra, though for Coryanne, we might propose Uthor, who is closer in age."
Otto stroked his beard in thought. With the Stormlands likely lost to their cause, an alliance with Dorne made sense. Though traditional enemies, they could serve as a potent counterbalance. Unfortunately, the Dornish appeared entangled in brisk trade with the Velaryons, rendering the match difficult to secure.
But if it comes from Viserys… yes, I can convince him that this would build a foundation for a more lasting peace to unite the Targaryen and Dornish lines. I believe the match with their heir to be unlikely, but Uthor would still be a tie and reason for the Dornish to aid our cause in the event we cannot resolve the succession quickly.
"Good, what else?"
"Lorra Bolton, she is Aemond's age and still unbetrothed. She has three brothers, so we cannot secure that house through marriage, but the Boltons have always chafed under the Starks. My view is that the Starks will honor their oaths," Larys mused, offering one of his enigmatic smiles. "As for the Boltons, they will follow their oaths only as long as it serves their interests. Aemond may deem the match beneath him, but if you can persuade him, the Boltons would welcome a connection to the royal family. And of course Daeron is another option, though he would chafe under being tied to a 'heathen' family."
Otto frowned. He did not believe the North held any true sway in the succession. Part of him longed to humble the arrogant youth, and the idea of forcing him to marry some frigid woman from the North had a certain appeal, but it was dangerous. Aemond knew his worth and the Green's dependency upon him.
"What other possibilities?"
"Alannys Blacktyde, she's a woman who fights and raids. A favored niece of Lord Blacktyde, we could win his support. Aemond may be convinced of the match if he is impressed by her martial abilities."
Otto wasn't sure he liked that idea at all. "She's twenty and still unwed? I'll not have another royal match that proves barren, why else would she not be wed?"
"My sources say she does not wish to wed, but an offer from a prince who rides a dragon? That may well sway her and her uncle."
Otto was dissatisfied with all these options for one reason or another, but alas, there were no perfect matches that would suit his needs.
"The final suggestion would be to seek allies in Essos. Prince Aemond values his Valyrian heritage greatly. A match with a prominent daughter from Essos could provide a counter to Daemon and Tyrosh. War nearly broke out before, and we could manipulate events to bring it about once more – something the King will surely lay at his brother's feet."
Now that is an idea, but it could also backfire and make him even stronger.
"If Aemond proves intractable, then I will consider an Essosi match. Until then, keep me appraised, but do not approach any as a potential match."
"As you wish, my Lord Hand."
Otto decided there was no sense in delay and found the King working on his ridiculous miniature city. He supposed it was a good thing the man had something to distract him from interfering in Otto's schemes, but it all seemed so childish to him. Pining for the glories of the past, when one could be seizing the glories of the future.
"Your Grace, do you have a moment to speak with me about a potential marriage alliance with one of your sons?"
"I do, my friend. Who is the lucky woman, and for which son? I have a number of them," he said proudly.
"For Aemond. His fostering with the Baratheons did not go well, but I believe that has more to do with Lord Borros than in any fault in your son. Recent events seem proof of that."
Viserys frowned. "Aye, you have the right of that! Who is the girl?"
"Princess Aliandra Martell of Dorne. As heir to Dorne, she would be worthy of a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. This would be a difficult match to win, yet it would secure peace between our realms. If you were to make it known to Prince Qoren how vital this is for lasting peace, I believe we may yet prevail through the union. And should he still not consent after suitable pressure, he will be tempted to grant his approval for an alternative match – his other daughter to Prince Uthor."
Viserys was nodding. "Well reasoned," the King smiled, delight shimmering in his eyes. "I do enjoy seeing my children married and happy. Can you believe my little Elaena will soon bear her own child? A joyous occasion that has me cursing the slow passage of time."
How I long to see both babe and mother perish in the birthing bed, yet the Gods have not seen fit to grant me such fortune. I doubt they will do so now.
"Yes, a truly auspicious moment." Otto moved the conversation back to the matter at hand. "So then shall we move forward? I will draft a letter with your signature, and believe it would be best to have it delivered in person by Aegon. He has become quite the diplomat and carries your legacy of peace and reason quite well."
Viserys nodded, smiling. "Aye, Aegon has impressed me. He possesses a good head on his shoulders. He may one day replace you as Hand of the King, should he stay on his present course."
No, not Hand, he will be King. You grooming him to be the next Hand can be misconstrued as you preparing him as an alternate heir.
"I bow before your wisdom, Your Grace. He is quite young and I have many years of service left in me, but we could begin to have him sit on the small council as an observer."
Viserys smiled again. "I am well pleased we are of like mind, my friend. Yes, go and send Aegon, and when he returns, regardless of Prince Qoren's answer, we shall add a chair and explain my eldest son's new duty to learn and observe."
Otto knew that no matter the impediments the Gods set before him, he would simply adjust his course and find a new path. Nothing would stay his hand from crowning Aegon, nothing.
***
Jessamyn Redfort dined with Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Jeyne Arryn. They did so every evening, even though Rhaenyra was sullen company. She had arrived a moon ago, and other than attempting to despoil the Eyrie's stores each night, there was little conversation.
I had hoped that seeing her husband again would lift her spirits, but it has proven to be the contrary.
Instead of sullen, she was wroth and had attacked the ham as a knight might a bandit. The Dark Storm had arrived in the morning and spoken with his wife. His appearance had been cordial and well-attired; save for his windblown hair, which was less-in-place than it had been at the great wedding two years prior, he had looked much the same.
His exit, however, was a furious one. Fortunately, his wrath had not manifested in any physical harm, save for some soiled breeches as he swept past terrified guards and servants. The relatively quiet meals were something Jessamyn could not long endure, and the deep desire to know consumed her wholly.
"Princess Rhaenyra, you quarreled with your husband. It is not my place to pry, but I have oft found that sharing a burden may lighten it. Would you tell us what is amiss?"
Rhaenyra's violet eyes snapped up. "What is amiss is that my husband fails to grasp that betrayal demands answer!"
Jessamyn's eyes met her lover's before Jeyne asked, "Betrayal?"
"My sister! She is the one who convinced my father to send me away from my family. And now she has the gall to ask for a dragon egg for the child she will birth? She cares more for her ledgers than for my happiness," frustration and hurt warred in Rhaenyra's voice.
Elaena was responsible for preventing Daemon's war? Fascinating…
Out loud, she said, "I am sorry – a sibling bond must be kept tightly knit. I can well imagine your grief and frustration over her actions, and yet I must ask, why then the anger toward Ser Laenor?"
Rhaenyra's face twisted with disgust. "Because he believes Elaena's transgression should be forgiven simply because she thinks first of the kingdom's good rather than her sister!"
Silence lingered as both other ladies attempted to parse that outburst. Considering even cursory implications of those words did not bring to mind much in the way of flattering interpretations.
After a moment of heavy breathing, Rhaenyra set down her fork. "I do not resent my sister for telling my father of Daemon's plans – I, too, tried to dissuade him. No, my wroth stems from her belief that time away from my most precious people would grant me clarity of thought. Her actions took my children from me. Temporary though it may be, I will never regain this lost time."
Jessamyn found this discussion fascinating. Rhaenyra was spilling her innermost thoughts and feelings, and Lady Arryn's Mistress of Whisperers was mentally cataloging it all. The princess's drinking throughout the day had likely contributed to her lack of poise and control.
"I cannot pretend to understand," Jeyne said, a sharp and shrewd look flashing across her eyes, "as I have no children of my own. But I can see how justifiably distraught you are. I have heard that those with child are oft known to be less stable, and with your sister carrying her first babe in her womb, may it not be possible that her normal manner of thinking is askew?"
Jessamyn had always found that sort of thinking ridiculous, as it had more to do with men seeking any excuse to place women lower in the social hierarchy, and she knew Jeyne felt the same. This was merely an attempt to calm Rhaenyra down and prevent any further divide between the two sisters. Unlike the King, both Jeyne and Jessamyn feared what would occur during the succession. They had long ago decided to support Rhaenyra's claim over anything the Greens might try, and losing the support of Elaena and the Leffords would be a mighty blow. Not only was she a dragon rider, her influence with the Dragon Bank was immense.
Immense enough, it would seem, to end wars before they could even begin. It was not only that a surely staggering amount of information must be available to Elaena for such a thing to be possible, but also that she had recognized and acted decisively on it. Investigating the larger truth of such influence had just jumped right to the top of Jessamyn's priorities.
Rhaenyra made a disgusted sound, pulling Jessamyn back to the present. "That may be, but my husband should side with me, not my sister. Nor should he tremble in fear of her potential anger at being denied."
Jessamyn had a hard time imagining the Dark Storm trembling in fear. More like he was struggling to stay his wrath at his wife's foolishness, as it seemed his efforts to preserve the support of Elaena's influence had gone wholly ignored by his wife. Jeyne, too, looked quite skeptical. Rhaenyra's own words painted an image of the infamous warrior's shrewd political acumen, and yet she did not even recognize the blunder he was attempting to avert?
If nothing else, hearing that the Dark Storm valued Elaena's support so heavily was but more confirmation of Jessamyn's own budding conclusions. And more worrying for the immediate conversation.
"I am sure Ser Laenor merely wants to maintain the sisterly love you have for each other." Jessamyn put on a face of concern and slight fear. "Oh, my, I had an ill thought, Your Grace. What if he fears Elaena's fate in the birthing bed? After what happened to your mother… I could well see his concern if you two were at odds and then something dire happened to your only full-blooded sister."
Rhaenyra recoiled as if struck. "I… I had not thought of that." Her eyes grew moist. "I won't even be there for the birth, thanks to my father's actions, which Elaena precipitated."
There was silence for a time, and then Rhaenyra shook herself. "Regardless, my sister must learn she cannot play with my life like this. Perhaps I will relent if she seeks my forgiveness for her actions, but not before. It isn't as if her children are certain to remain dragon-less by my decision. Silverwing or Dreamfyre may lay another clutch, or perhaps Viktoriya will prove to be fertile. I have made my decision, and I will not be like my father and go to and fro based on a whim."
Jessamyn nodded in sympathy, though there was a tightness behind her eyes. "You have every right; you are the heir to the Iron Throne. We just hate to see you and your husband upset with each other. Your match is a story of our time, the Realm's Delight and the Dark Storm, the wisdom and beauty matched with power and might."
Rhaenyra laughed bitterly. "Is it now? Laenor does not…" she stopped abruptly. "A stray thought, of no consequence, forget it."
Jessamyn pushed further, despite Lady Arryn's shocked expression. "He does not love you as a man does a woman, because he has other tastes, we know, and understand quite well that sort of situation."
Rhaenyra's full lips opened in surprise as her gaze swiveled from Jeyne to Jessamyn. "That is why you are unwed! You care for women more than men – ah, 'tis more frequent than I once thought then. I can well understand that desire," her eyes flashed with a hungry gleam, "and yet the feel of a strong man as he…"
Jessamyn listened with some embarrassment as the well-in-her-cups heir to the Iron Throne shared things not oft discussed at a dinner table! And especially ones she had no desire to imagine!
Rhaenyra appeared more relaxed now and less angry with Laenor. As the night wore on, she drank more and soon had to be taken to her chambers.
"That was risky, Jessamyn. You go too far at times."
Jessamyn smiled. "Nonsense, my love. Rhaenyra needs an outlet and a way to voice her frustrations. Garnering her trust as we sympathize with her situation can only strengthen us. We know our Lord Hand has designs on the Vale; why else place Prince Daeron with the Gilded Falcon? Should the Greens be triumphant after the King passes, your rule very well may come to an end. We must ensure Rhaenyra is our friend, and we must steer her away from her self-destructive nature. She grows thick of waist and wit with the excess drink and food she consumes."
Jeyne did not look convinced, and Jessamyn knew she would consider her counsel carefully. Lady Arryn did not like hasty decision-making; in that way, she was quite the opposite of Princess Rhaenyra. Regardless, the princess's presence here was both an opportunity and a danger – something they would need to navigate with great care.
***
Kevan paced back and forth, livid.
"How can your sister blame you for her own actions!? This is preposterous, and our child is innocent of any wrongdoing besides! Does she truly believe that our babe deserves no dragon egg for the cradle, after all you've done for her, for her husband's family?"
His wife regarded him serenely from her seat on the plush settee, a stack of ledgers set to her side. "She is agitated by my actions, but 'tis her right to deal with the eggs as she will. Should Dreamfyre, Silverwing, Tessarion, or my own dragon lay any eggs, I am certain our child will have one. And should it not be the case, there may be other options when the babe is older."
There was truth to these alternatives, Kevan knew, even while gripped by indignant ire, but all of them entailed years of planning or waiting. Most of all, such considerations failed to reach the heart of the matter.
Kevan shook his head. "I do not understand, why are you not upset? This is a betrayal, in my view. You have done so much to strengthen the Seven Kingdoms and aid her husband's family. To dismiss all your past support for the sake of petty grievance is so wrong that it beggars belief, Elaena. It pains me in mind and heart just to dwell on the idea."
His wife gave a slow nod of acknowledgement as she rested somewhat more into the upholstery behind her, taking a few sips of her favored tea before again setting it aside, picking up the next ledger. It gave Kevan time to settle his breathing and ease the strain out of his voice.
He knew Elaena had taken this pause for his own sake. It was her way of silently affirming his reaction and the reasoning behind it, but also a subtle insistence on the need for composure. A quiet sort of support, but firm of will and courtly in manner – and so very Elaena.
His wife was but a few months away from delivering their child, and she still moved with her regular grace despite the moderate swell of her belly. The dresses she wore of late now included softer silks, satins, or velvets, often in delightfully exquisite layers or thicker designs.
Day after day, the flowing of fabrics followed Elaena's elegant movements in such a way as to seem like she were gliding across the floor, both
concealing and accentuating in turn as if the weight of pregnancy were a mere suggestion or adornment upon her form rather than a burden, to the point where one could easily forget she was with child. Her balance as ever remained flawless, and the way she shifted her center and shoulders slightly back as she strode always resulted in her head being held high and proud.
Despite her condition and the typical expectations of it, Elaena cast an even more confident and authoritative visage when she moved about her business. Even when dealing with this latest foolishness from her family, she seemed almost peaceful and unbothered in her composure.
Her detached serenity was at odds with the infuriating news; for whatever reason, even such an egregious affront from her own sister did not seem to perturb her. As much as this confused him, it engaged Kevan's long-held instincts to stop, think, and observe.
Kevan wound down his pacing after having vented much of his ill feelings, shooting a grateful look towards his wife. She had closed her eyes, long lashes catching the light, seemingly content for all the world to wait for him as she thought over the ledger in her hands. She looked so mesmerizing even in such a mundane setting, long hair let loose in privacy and full lips pursed just so while she worked.
The bundled white, silver, and pale blue silks she wore today in the seclusion of her chambers conveyed a strong sense of softness about her frame and shoulders. Such luxurious fabrics and cloth supply were continual gifts from the many merchants and nobles owing Elaena their gratitude, while some fashions and styles were inspired by the passionate efforts of his wife's frequently-favored handmaiden, Lady Selene Falwell. If today's attire were one of those, then Lady Falwell had Kevan's utmost approval for garbing his wife so as to make Mother and Maiden both pale in comparison.
Elaena inspired everyone around her to be the best of themselves, her handmaidens and Kevan himself no exceptions. Rather, they were perhaps the most affected of all. So when Elaena was troubled by an excess of rare gifts, Lady Falwell had taken to them with a gleam in her eye and a mind for expanding her princess's wardrobe. The results had apparently been such a boon to both courtly fashion and his wife's personal comfort that Elaena barely grumbled at all about wearing them, and even gave Selene approving written reviews.
It was only when Kevan's pacing had come to a complete stop and his mind returned from wandering that his wife reopened her eyes, brushing silver-gold locks away from her cheek. Said silvery locks shimmered as the light caught and played all the way down their whole lengths to where they pooled at her waist. It passed by in but a single moment, yet such moments were treasures that enriched life most fully. When her gaze again met his own, her bright eyes felt both calm and understanding.
"All you have said is true, but the hope is that she will gain maturity and discernment while at the Eyrie. If it is successful, I have no doubt she will relent. If she does not relent, then we have a clue that her hoped-for growth has not occurred. A test such as that is useful. I am sure you can grasp the importance of such, no?"
Kevan let the matter drop from conversation. Elaena had made her decision to not be upset by the news, and so she was not. She trusted him to understand her viewpoint, just as she affirmed his own despite disagreeing. Trusting her in turn had become quite natural to Kevan by now, after the countless times she proved that such trust was beyond worth placing in her.
The reminder that he was perhaps the only person she held so highly in her confidences brought a pang of affection and joy to his heart.
It was probably for the best that she did not share his feelings about her sister, as anger and anxiety could cause harm, or so the Maesters said. Rhaenyra had been kind enough to him in the past, but this action of hers seemed a vicious cruelty. Elaena adored flying, and to be denied the chance for their child to have a dragon of their own was appalling. Was such a thing really worth enduring in Elaena's deeper political considerations?
"As you say, my love." Kevan ran a hand through his hair as he let out a long breath, "That aside then, Father wonders whom he can expect to come when the time nears."
"My mother is already making her way here overland. She trusts not dragonback, but my father will join her once my expected delivery time comes. My siblings, save for Rhaenyra, are most like to come, as well I suspect are Ser Laenor and Rhaenys. I have not heard from Lady Laena, and while I would not mind her company and the ability to make inquiries about Prince Daemon, I am grateful that he will not attend. My uncle aggravates me."
That last line was delivered with a sardonic hint to it, one which Kevan embraced.
He allowed himself to give several sagely nods while rubbing his chin. "Yes, I think he still mislikes me as well over that duel with Lord Selmy. Who would have thought?"
Elaena gave a small, musical laugh, the sound utterly delightful to Kevan's ears. "Perhaps. My uncle has many listed grievances; I am not sure how well you rank. Perhaps somewhere just below the entire population of the Vale?"
"All the better!" Kevan agreed in good humor, lips once again forming a fond smile at his wife's amusement. He was not bad with the blade, but Daemon could outmatch him even without his dragon.
Still, Elaena turned her once-again thoughtful gaze back to him. "I am reminded though, has there been more progress with the 'bunker' project I asked you to work on?"
Kevan nodded as his mind immediately turned to recalling details. "Yes, I still think it is excessive, but if it makes you feel safer, then I do not mind the excess. The diggers and miners have excavated the area. There are water sources secured and furnishings prepared. After you mentioned the idea last we spoke of it, scribes are copying various texts to store there for leisure or education. Clothing and bedding suitable for all seasons have been set aside, as well as some accessories convenient for disguise. Three hidden entrances exist, and the open primary one can be swiftly sealed. Dragons could not tear it down, though living underground for a time would be quite dreary."
"On that we are agreed, but there may come a time when I am away and our children must be kept safe. Golden Tooth is a formidable fortress, but it will melt just as easily as Harrenhal, perhaps moreso. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it," Elaena said simply, voice not bearing any hint of dread or concern.
Kevan could not help but shiver a bit. The security and contingencies Elaena sought would only be necessary if something awful took place. With Daemon squarely blaming Elaena for thwarting his expansion efforts, it could only be her uncle that worried her so. That she even pondered such extremes was in part both comforting and concerning. It seemed Kevan's own idle comments had reminded her of those worries, and for that he was regretful.
Would he go so far as to become a kinslayer? I truly do not know. But my wife will not lack for security or defenses on my watch. Doubtless that's the reason she asked it of me to oversee the 'bunker' personally.
Time had passed while Kevan was lost amidst his thoughts, and Elaena had finished reviewing the ledgers, now wearing a frown that managed to intensify the severity in her bright blue eyes.
"It seems we have someone pilfering from the construction fund. It is not large sums, but because we are using double bookkeeping, there are two or more individuals working together. I want to nip this in the bud."
Kevan suppressed a grimace. The price for theft like this only had a few potential sentences. Loss of a hand or head, or perhaps the Wall.
"I will have the results double-checked and then take care of it."
"No, I will do this myself."
His wife's calm declaration inspired some unease in Kevan. Looking upon her, an icon of beauty and motherhood, it felt wrong to have her oversee the handling of crime or bloody punishment in her state.
"Elaena, we spoke about this…"
"Yes, you all did speak of it, and I assured you that I am still perfectly capable of using my eyes and my mind while we wait for the birthing bed. Fraud is not something I can let go, it would be better to spend two stags to save one, if it means we eliminate treacherous thieves. The ones who do this create mistrust and require even more onerous accounting and triplicate checking. Few activities are fouler, and I will not suffer them lightly."
That statement silenced his half-baked objections.
Elaena's handmaidens and Kevan had all worked together to try to convince her to slow down a bit, to purely relax for herself and the child, but Elaena was not someone you could move when she did not wish to. Nor, in truth, did the Maesters say they had detected any harmful effects from her work. She and the babe seemed perfectly healthy at this juncture. Moreso even than most could reasonably hope for, as she hardly suffered any of the typical discomforts or pains of the condition.
Thank the Seven!
Every time the topic came up, there was only a faint sense of smug satisfaction in Elaena's smile, and she would calmly tell him that she was certain she knew her own body and condition better. But Kevan and the handmaidens kept a watchful eye nonetheless, always ensuring there was a convenient arm nearby should she ever need one to lean upon. Her skin and complexion seemed almost vibrant with health and life at times, so it was difficult to keep protesting too much.
The one occasion Kevan recalled her seeming more alarmingly tired than usual after a long day, he'd offered to carry her in his arms up the stairs and halls. He would treasure the brief look of pure, unguarded mortification in her expression for as long as he lived, as well the memory of it softening into a lopsided smile. She declined with graceful amusement of course, but she did lean upon his arm perhaps a bit more heavily as they walked. The closeness he felt with her in that moment remained strong in his heart.
No argument or persuasion they gave convinced her of much, but they had at least managed to surround her with more and more comforts or relaxing conveniences. If their princess would insist on working the hardest of all, then they resolved to have her do it in the greatest of comforts as possible.
Kevan seemed more stressed than she was. The new walk-in bath had been created and he regularly luxuriated in it as it soothed the tensions within his body, or bruises from the practice yard. What's more, some of the freed Tyroshi had been born and trained in Lys before being bought by slavers in Tyrosh, and some had valuable skills or experience with baths, steam-rooms, and various means of relaxation. All of which were received with particular enthusiasm by his wife. A young woman of Valyrian coloring was particularly favored by Elaena for her skills in massages of the feet, hands, or joints.
With the amount of work and writing Elaena and her retinue undertook, a position in Golden Tooth's expanded wings and bathworks was quickly secured for the masseuse, who now regularly attended the industrious lady of the castle and her diligent handmaidens. By all accounts, the young woman was reverently devoted and awed by the princess and her silver dragon. Understandable, really, given how Tyrosh fell.
And regarding their work, the new city had individual buildings completed, and the bones of the larger whole had been well set. The amount of planning that had gone into every aspect of the construction still astounded at times. It had yet another year or two before it could truly function as a city properly, but the speed was still mightily impressive.
But all that aside, if his wife wanted to punish those harming the projects she held so close to her heart, then so be it.
"As you say. I'd hoped to spare you these distasteful tasks, but I will have the knights detain and then bring them before you so you can glean what they have done."
Before Kevan left, he gave his stunningly beautiful wife a kiss on her lips and a careful embrace, the feeling of her frame hugged snugly within his arms staying with him throughout the day.
The work always seemed to continue, and it did make the time breeze by. The faster it progressed, the happier he was, for his hopes for his wife and child were still fraught with the uncertain terror of a calamity befalling them in the birthing bed. It was a battlefield he had no way of helping with, and that too frustrated him, so productive distractions were welcomed by all involved.
It is in the hands of the Gods and the good Maesters. I know not what I would do if something were to happen.
***
Aemond flew on Vermithor and pondered.
The very thought of his sister, Elaena, suffering in childbirth filled him with a cold, frustratingly vague fury. It caused a strange tightness and annoying clenching at the back of his throat just to think of it. At the same time, he knew that she could handle its perils. Others did not have that same optimism. Before, his mother had looked positively ill and fretted with worry. His father also paced relentlessly, and Aegon was taciturn. His other sisters, at least, seemed eager to meet their new nephew or niece.
The recent events and the shaming of Rhaenyra and Daemon were to the good of the Green cause, but in truth, Aemond welcomed war with Essos. It was one area where, for once, he did not share Elaena's opinion. After she recovered from childbirth, he looked forward to debating his reasons with her. Armed with logic, he believed he could change her mind. Essos should be ruled by his family, and while he didn't care about the slavery and suffering of its people, they would be useful arguments.
Naturally, he didn't want Daemon's own holdings to expand, but Aemond was the second son of a king. Daemon was a second son of a king's heir. Ruling an Essosi city was not a terrible destiny for second sons, and the creativity and wealth of Myr would make for a fine seat. Volantis, with the blood of Old Valyria coursing through it, would be pleasing as well.
His sharp eyes spotted another dragon below him. Aemond was within an hour's flight of the Tooth, and as he gazed at it, he decided it must be Vermax and his rider, Jacaerys. An amused grin crossed his features, and he angled Vermithor forward. The rider below noticed something had moved and blocked the sun, most likely looking up in startlement. Aemond was not even close enough to hear, but by the jagged lurch Vermax made, it was clear the pair had been unnerved.
They angled in a different direction, and Aemond matched them for a time. When Vermax went to wheel, Aemond redirected Vermithor onward to his destination. The thought of dragon-fear being inflicted on the arrogant boy who thought he would one day be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms was entertaining, but Aemond was anxious to see his sister.
Soon he arrived and there was a massive set of House Targaryen banners in an open field.
Ah, the place I am to land.
He landed with Vermithor and was escorted by two knights toward the Tooth.
"Welcome to the Golden Tooth, Prince Aemond. Quarters have been prepared for you, and after you have refreshed yourself, Princess Elaena would be pleased to see you."
Aemond knew there was still some time before the birthing, so he would be well pleased to speak with her. Footsteps came from behind and he half-turned.
"Aemond!" Jace yelled. "What in the Seven Hells was that? Do you think you can intimidate me?"
"Yes," Aemond said simply, with a bored expression.
Why would I not, when my mere presence is enough for you to divest yourself of dignity? That is, if you ever had any at all from the moment of your bastardly birth. Typical.
Jace balled his fists and stepped forward, but one of the silver-gilt knights bearing the blue and yellow heraldry of House Lefford strode betwixt them.
"There will be no conflict here," the knight said firmly.
"And who are you to say so?" Aemond drawled. "We are of House Targaryen and shall do as we will."
The knight looked at Aemond and met his gaze without any hesitation.
"You are guests, though not yet bound by guest-right, but guests nonetheless under the protection of Princess Elaena Targaryen."
Aemond shifted his head and noted what was said. The knight would appear to be sworn to House Lefford, but was clearly his sister's creature. The man had steel for a spine to not be intimidated by a prince of the realm, and knew that Elaena would not tolerate misbehavior.
She never had.
"I would never embarrass my sister by causing harm to another guest, unless they attempted to harm me. My young nephew may have a fight if he wishes it, but it will be he who strikes the first blow, not I. I have too much respect for Princess Elaena."
Jace gave a sharp jerk of his head. "I will not add to the stress Aunt Elaena must endure due to your recklessness, but we will have words anon."
I look forward to it, little nephew.
Later that day he saw Elaena waiting in the main hall. For some reason he had thought she would be laying in a bed. That was practically all Aemond could remember the Queen doing when with child.
The sight of Elaena with a hefty swell to her waist while wrapped in plush velvets and silk, looking at him with fondness in her bright blue eyes, stirred within him a strange impulse to protect or guard her.
"You are a bit early, brother, but 'tis good to see you." His dearest sister greeted.
Aemond dismissed his heart's sudden senseless hesitation as his mind conjured wry thoughts and commiserating words. He briefly considered offering a hug, before discarding the idea.
"You seem in fine spirits, though I know it is not the case. I feel, were I to embrace you wrongly, your belly would surely burst."
While his reluctance to cause discomfort was true, Aemond felt she bore her burden far better than those her lesser. When with child, Queen Alicent had ever looked miserable and drained, pallid or pained, as far as Aemond could recall. In contrast, Elaena looked to be a beacon of health, beauty, and motherhood, as if like in all else it was only natural that she excel.
A brief pang of something akin to loss flitted through him at the reminder of Elaena's superiority, her nature as a dragon among dragons.
Truly, Aemond wasn't sure what he was expecting, or that he should have expected anything less. Elaena's upright posture and relaxed ease gave no indication that she suffered any discomfort.
Elaena's lips quirked into a smile. "I get enough of that from my husband. I am with child and need to take caution, true, but I am not so fragile. I believe it shall be less than a fortnight before the labors begin."
Aemond nodded. He had come early, but he did not wish to miss being there for his sister in any case.
As they walked towards the residential quarters, he made light conversation in part for the joy of listening her smooth, confident voice again. They strolled at a sedate pace, and Aemond only realized after a short while that he was matching her slower, measured strides unconsciously. His trained eye for dueling soon noticed how her steps were a mastery in gracefulness.
She was constantly shifting in balance to remain poised, a perfect combination of holding her head high, shifting her weight to the back of her feet at the just right times, and using the momentum of her belly moving forward to avoid any ungainliness to her gait, leaving only the slightest of sway. Flawless posture and movements preserved her dignified and regal demeanor despite the challenge of doing so with both widened hips and the swell of a babe.
The stillness of her shoulders and the length of her dress hid most every movement to provoke the illusion of gliding, while the gentle billowing of her vibrant Valyrian hair helped conceal and distract from motion. She wasn't moving with particular speed, but Aemond could only describe it as a 'dignified' pace, like it was not that she could not move faster, but that she simply chose not to.
Elaena remained by far the most elegant, able, and courtly woman Aemond had ever seen, even heavily with child and on the cusp of her first birth.
"Since I arrived with time aplenty, care for a game of Cyvasse?" Aemond proposed, eager to offer entertainment and engage with Elaena's sharp mind.
"Tomorrow after breakfast, certainly. I have too much to do today." She demurred, but kindly.
Too much to do? Is your husband so inadequate, so inferior? Lefford, why is your wife still seeing to things this far along? By the gods, she's bearing your child!
He felt some faint twisting or tension in his chest at the thoughts before again dismissing them.
"Tomorrow then, if you need anything, sister, anything at all, just speak it."
His sister gave him an appreciative nod and another slight smile, then Aemond departed somewhat reluctantly to find his mother.
Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, and Daenora would be arriving in the next few days, but his mother should have already arrived. His father would be riding on Dreamfyre with Helaena. He wasn't certain how many of the Blacks would come, but he wondered if there would be another repeat of the dual weddings.
Daeron has hopefully learned to guard his tongue. As amusing as it would be, I would rather not cause Elaena grief. Not this near to the birthing.