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A Golden Path: Foundation 2.1 (ch. 10)
🕑 Added 2024-12-02 15:49:21 +0000 UTCRhaegar Targaryen was possessed by a nervous energy. It had possessed him since Steffon Baratheon claimed to have found a valyrian bride of worthy stock some months ago in Volantis. As a result, the situation was… less than ideal.
“I should have been married within the Seven Kingdoms,” Rheager uttered, a finger tapping at a table while he pinched a goblet of wine with white knuckles. He only dared to utter the words out loud in the presence of a few people, and only in locations that he knew he would not be overheard. The godswood was one such place -- too out in the open for clever spies to overhear without exposing themselves, and it was rarely visited.
His mother sat across from him, dressed in the finest of silks, wearing jewelry that was worthy of a queen. There was a time that such things would look natural upon her. Unworthy, almost. Rhaella Targaryen possessed the fine valyrian beauty that their house was renowned for, and yet…
Yet his mother looked haggard. Exhausted. Cosmetics his most of the evidence -- the dark bags that hung beneath her eyes, her cheeks sinking in as she had been eating less. His father was degrading and, like an anchor, he was dragging his mother down with him.
She tried to hide the evidence from him, and to spare her the shame, Rheagar pretended to not notice that she wore high collared dresses in the height of summer.
Yet, she still possessed that same noble bearing, simply reaching out and stilling his hand as she gazed at him with sharp violet eyes, “It would have been better for our house, yes.” She agreed, and the nervous energy bled out of him at the agreement. The reassurance that he wasn't going mad. “It would have been best if Steffon found no one in Volantis, but that isn't what happened. He did find someone, and the sooner you stop teetering over what could have beens, the better prepared you'll be to handle your promised bride.”
Rheagar did what he could to lean on Steffon, leveraging his position as heir to find no one of worthy status in Essos. Rheagar almost cursed the man for only having sons because his father was likely to approve of a match inside the Kingdoms then. “It would help if I actually knew anything about my betrothed, mother,” Rheagar said, taking a short tone that he regretted. Then, softer, he continued, “I only know her name.”
Elephant. That was the name of his intended. He thought he might be able to conjure a face with the name, but her face was undescript in his mind. Steffon’s letters gave him a handful of descriptors, but they were all equally worthless -- fine valyrian features, silver hair, violet eyes. Beauty had its uses, especially as Queen, but it told him precious little about the woman herself. The one who would bare him the three heads of the dragon.
Would she be an ally? Would she be an enemy? Would she help him in his endeavors to further unify the Seven Kingdoms, or did she possess petty ambitions that would resist the natural compromises that he would have to make to save the world.
“Volantis guards its velaryon stock highly, Rheagar,” her mother noted, bringing a goblet of wine to her lips. “By their standards, our own blood is too diluted to be recognized.”
“Yet, she's coming to the Seven Kingdoms,” Rheager pointed out.
“Precisely,” Rhaella agreed. “I know little of Essos, but I can't imagine that the politics there is much different than it is here in Westeros. There will always be those at the top, and those at the bottom… and those that fall so others may rise.”
Rhaegar's lips thinned, “Is that what it is, then? Her house falls from grace and the Seven Kingdoms is a consolation prize?”
“Not in so many words, but you're largely correct, I suspect,” his mother answered. “The story is a simple one. One that Tywin is dooming himself to repeat -- the previous leader of house Valis ruled the family with an iron fist. Powerful and daring. One of the few Tiger faction families within the city. She made enemies, but none dared to strike while she drew breath.”
Rhaegar knew the story well, “But she didn't live forever.”
“No, she didn't,” his mother agreed. “Like vultures, they began to circle. I imagine that they must have found purchase given that Aenessa has seen fit to abandon Volantis entirely.” It was a tale that resonated with Rheagar. Something he found that he could understand a little too well.
So much of his families power was connected to dragons. As dragon riders, a single one of them with a dragon aged more than a hundred years was worth all the armies the Seven Kingdoms could field. No castle could endure the wrath of a dragon. Fear kept the noble families in line. That, and their own self interest to climb to the top of the squabbling pile of nobles.
But as Tywin Lannister was so aptly proving, it was not a situation that would endure forever.
If the enemies of House Targaryen united enforce for the sole purpose of tearing them down… if they showed too much weakness…
“Now they come here,” Rheagar said, swallowing another sigh. The tale might resonate with him, but there was a lingering thought in the back of his mind that it would be best if the ship never arrived at port. “I never expected to marry for love, but I did think I would at least have a say in who would be my Queen.”
His mother offered him a humorless smile, “Your father didn't. Neither did I.” The words were without bitterness, but Rheagar knew that was for his sake. “Your father is convinced that it is the foreign blood in our veins that is to blame for the death of our dragons. Why the rituals to restore them fail. We are impure and we must be purified,” she said, a hand falling to her wrist to pull down her sleeve an extra inch.
Rhaegar swallowed a lump in his throat, knowing what lay underneath. A cold bitter anger settled in his heart, one he kept at bay with practiced ease. However, before he could reply, Arthur stepped into view, a warning that someone approached. Both he and his mother stilled, looking to the path through the godswood to see a servant approaching.
“My Queen, my Prince,” He greeted them both with a bow before his gaze flickered to his mother. “The King has requested his Queen's presence pertaining to the royal wedding.” Rheagar fought off a scowl, but it was a close victory when he saw his mother's expression tightened. An excuse was on his lips, but he was silenced when his mother gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“Then escort me to my husband,” Queen Rhaella commanded, standing up. She favored him a lingering glance before walking away and Rheagar watched her go mournfully. She quickly disappeared down the path and only then did a crack in his facade appear in the form of a long sigh that escaped him.
Powerless. He was Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, one of the most powerful and influential men in the Kingdoms, and yet before his father, he was still the same untrained boy. Any action was met with scorn, inaction was treated with suspicion -- the worse his father became, the riskier it was to challenge him on anything. More than once his father threatened him with the black cells, and Rheagar suspected that he would die within them if he ever pushed his father so far.
“Damn him,” Rheagar uttered softly under his breath, not even daring to say the words above a whisper.
“It is not safe to say such things, my Prince. Not even here,” Arthur admonished him all the same, as he was right to. Unfortunately, he was right. There was nowhere safe in King's Landing.
Rhaegar inclined his head to his friend before he set his goblet of untouched wine down. Standing, he left the godswood with Arthur right behind him as a second shadow. As much as it was his nature to dwell, he had no time to linger with his thoughts. “Has the invitation been accepted?” Rheagar asked as they walked, not needing to specify.
There was only one name on the list that Rheagar ensured was extended an invitation.
“It has, my Prince. He will join the Northern party. They've already likely begun their travels if they are to arrive on time,” Arthur answered and that released a knot of worry between his shoulders. If only he could do something about the dozen others.
“It can't be a coincidence,” Rheagar uttered, and not for the first time. Nor did he need to turn around to see the look of concern Arthur aimed at his back as they made their way through the halls of the castle. “Whoever Paul Atreides is… he is…” Rheagar wasn't certain how to finish the thought. Nor was he sure that he should.
The visions that plagued his dreams had always been infrequent. At times, he went years without receiving a vision. Sometimes, he could have two or three in as many days. He always kept careful notes, exploring his visions from all angles for a path forward. However, in the past few months alone, he had received enough visions of the future -- enough warnings of what was to come -- to fill up his journal.
So many of them seemed centered around a man with burning blue eyes.
At first, he was just a face without a name but as he sent agents, men loyal to him, to the Wall to inspect what transpired there… a wildling of the name Muad'Dib seemed a likely candidate. Information was scarce about the man. However, as time went by, Rheagar became convinced the man in his visions was another. Largely because of the timing.
Most lords had little interest in the North, seeing it as a frigid wasteland with barely civilized barbarians. And, perhaps, there was some truth in that view. However, as it would one day serve as the battlefield for the dead and the living, the northern most kingdom had his full attention. It was for that reason Rheagar had learned of the developments in the North first.
Simply because no one expected such fine trade goods to come from the North, it was the very last place many had looked.
His visions showed a blue eyed man bribing an old wolf with gifts of gold and knowledge. Them working alongside a direwolf, raising a mountain into a castle. An unassailable fortress in the far corner of the world. The timing was too perfect to not be the Stark's newest vassal, House Atreides. As was the suspicious timing of notable trade goods coming from the North.
The man in his dreams was Paul Atreides. He had to be. If he wasn't, then…
Then what else could he be wrong about?
…
The preparations for the royal wedding were extravagant. Lavish to the point of absurdity. A feast that would last for no less than a month, with each day of it possessing eighteen courses of decadent food -- turkey stuffed with duck stuffed which was stuffed with chicken which was stuffed pigeon which was stuffed with quail. All served with a wide assortment of other equally decadent and ludicrous dishes, each prepared by the greatest chiefs in the Seven Kingdoms.
As Arthur put it -- the kitchens were a battleground equal to any see in the War of Tenpenny Kings.
While that alone would ensure that the royal wedding would be remembered for a generation, it was combined with the largest tourney seen since before the Dance of the Dragons. The main attractions, such as the joust, melee, and archery were joined by many other competitions. From individual duels to wrestling, to poetry, to cyvasse, to horse races, to foot races, javelin throwing, riddle solving, and more. Each event marked awarding prizes for the top three winners depending on the scale of the event.
Something such as the joust would award ten thousand gold dragons for first place while something such as riddle solving would ‘only’ award first place with a thousand gold dragons. But, while the events were numerous as they were varied, what made it the grandest tourney in living memory was the sheer scale of it as there was not only a division for the trained knights, but for their squires as well. In some, even the smallfolk could participate.
In between both, they were linked with plays and circuses and performative singers. It was an affair months in the making. A massive expenditure of the royal treasury, but it was one of the few times that Rheagar found himself in agreement with his father -- the royal wedding and grand tourney was exactly what they needed. A way to project their power upon the lords of the realm. To make the tens of thousands that would come from across the Seven Kingdoms bear witness to the splendor of the House of the Dragon.
Yet, they weren't the only ones putting on a show.
From the Red Keep, Rheagar gazed out towards the dock where a small fleet of ships were docked, watching them be greeted with a growing crowd -- many of them coming far and wide to King's Landing in preparation for the celebrations, and now…
Now they gathered to meet their future queen.
“I should be down there,” Rheagar muttered to himself, his gloved hands curling around the railing.
“I think not, my Prince,” Jon Connignton replied dutifully. “They're here to project strength, even as they arrive in what amounts to exile.”
He was correct there -- each of the ships were larger than any Rheagar had ever seen coming to or from King's Landing before, and inside each ship was… extravagance.
From where he stood, he saw the moment his promised bride entered the city. A massive creature -- an elephant, Rheagar suspected, stepped down the planks of the ship with his bride seated on top. A pavilion was arranged on top of it, the large gray creature was covered in a colorful tapestry while its long tusks were engraved with gold and jewels.
Aenessa Valis strode through the city as if it already belonged to her, the way cleared by a small army of unsullied. Her elephant was the largest at a towering fifteen feet tall, making the other elephants that trailed in her wake seem almost small in comparison. Following them were a menagerie of beasts that Rheagar had read of but never seen with his own eyes -- lions, tigers, cheetahs, and others.
“She knows how to make an impression,” Rheagar admitted as he pulled back from the balcony, knowing that he needed to be in the throne room to greet his bride. To meet her for the first time.
“... yes, she does,” Jon agreed with him a tightness in his voice that betrayed his apprehension. Rheagar felt much the same. Most men hoped for a beautiful wife, but what Rheagar needed was a driven one. One who would support his efforts from the shadows, just as his mother did to his unworthy father -- not out of love or even like, but out of duty to her children to secure their future.
Pulling away, he glanced at both Jon and Arthur, checking their expressions. Both of them schooled theirs, their thoughts becoming unreadable. With a small nod, he began to move and they followed. It wasn't particularly far from the throne room, but it felt much longer as he approached it. A pair of servants opened the doors for him, and he saw those that his bride’s retinue.
There were rows of people lined up by importance before the Iron Throne -- of which there were only a true handful worth noting.
Robert Baratheon was difficult to miss. His cousin, though no one would guess as much by looking between them. While Rheagar knew he favored the slim build that most Targaryen’s favored, Robert was built like an ox with a mane of black hair and a neatly trimmed beard clinging to his cheeks. He was dressed in his house colors -- black and yellow, wearing them proudly as he awaited to be reunited with his father after a long absence. That, and the tourney, he suspected.
Alongside him was Tywin Lannister. His expression gave nothing away, but he radiated a silent menacing displeasure. It stood in contrast to his son, who joined him at his side along with his daughter. Jaime and Cersei Lannister. Twins, and while one was a young man and the other a young woman, there was a strong resemblance between them. Cersei’s gaze watched him while her brother only had eyes for Arthur -- the Sword in the Morning.
Rhaegar made a note to himself to introduce the two. Jamie, by all accounts, was a talented knight and it would be best to start fostering a relationship early. If he had the right temperament, then perhaps Tywin could be removed from the board earlier than Rheagar hoped.
But, it was the man beyond them that held Rheagar's attention. The man seated upon a monstrous pile of blackened swords half melted together -- the Iron Throne. It was hideous, but it was imposing. Those that saw it never forgot it.
“Why are you here?” Areys Targaryen asked, seated upon the throne and… he almost looked as he did. As he did in Rheagar's memories. Before Duskendale.
His raven-like talons for nails were cut back to form. His wild untamed beard was trimmed, as was his hair. A golden crown sat upon his brow, in one hand he rested on the arm of the Iron Throne but in the other, he cradled the skull of the last dragon. A skull of black bone that was no larger than that of a cat's.
He almost looked like a picture of a king. Almost.
His sunken in violet eyes were filled with venom and suspicion as he gazed upon Rheagar, as if he were the vilest of snakes that had just slithered into the room. The rough edges of his appearance were smoothed away, but that was all. He was still the same man.
“To meet my betrothed,” Rheagar answered simply, making his father’s lips curl. For a moment, Rheagar feared his father might cause a scene. Something the could scarcely before so many lords. He might have if it wasn't for his mother, who stood on the steps before the throne. She wordlessly reached out, placing a hand on Areys’ and giving it a small squeeze.
The sight of it made Rheagar’s stomach twist, but his father answered him with a curt nod. Accepting that he did, in fact, have a right to be here. Both as the groom, and as the crowned prince.
The suspicion was something Rheagar was getting used to. It didn't even sting that the Kingsguard were placed behind Rheagar, placing themselves between their King and Prince. He ignored it, simply gazing out towards the doors that his betrothed would enter from, lightly resting a hand on the sword at his belt.
Appearances mattered for men as much as they did women. Something he was keenly aware of the further his father slipped into madness and as more and more people looked to Tywin Lannister to solve their problems rather than the king. As such, Rheagar made sure he looked his best for their first meeting.
He wasn't waiting overly long for her arrival. A choir of young boys began to sing as the doors swung open once more, allowing for them to enter.
At the fore of the party were two people -- siblings with valyrian features. And, for a moment, Rheagar wasn't entirely sure who his bride was. Both of them were beautiful, wearing the traditional robes of essosian nobility of purple in patterned demasic. The only way he was able to tell which was the brother from the sister was Lucerys wore his silver white hair in a manner much his own -- swept back and just long enough to brush the nape of his neck.
Leaving the woman standing next to him his bride.
Their eyes met after a brief pause as her party approached the Iron Throne, and Rheagar found mirth in her dark gaze. It would seem his momentary confusion wasn't missed. Nor exactly the impression that he wanted to give, but Rheagar found that he had little say in the matter. Lucerys was androgynous with not so much as a hair upon his jaw. Not so much as clean shaven as Rheagar was, but more lacking a beard entirely despite being a similar age.
The singing came to a stop as his bride, her brother, and their retinue came to a stop before the Iron Throne. A herald then stepped forth and shouted out, “Presenting to King Areys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I introduce Aenessa Valis, head of House Valis, of the seventy-two unbroken bloodlines to the Valaryian empire.”
As the herald spoke, Aenessa took a step forward before raising her skirts in a curtsy, “I, Aenessa Valis, extend greetings to House Targaryen, Dragon Lords of Old Valyria. It is my hope that this union of blood between myself and Prince Rheagar, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, shall further preserve out peoples greatest legacy.” She spoke calmly, her tone carrying a hint of confidence.
From where Rheagar stood, he saw a number of tightened expressions though most did their best to hide their true thoughts. His father, however, was not one of them. He made no effort to adopt a royal and noble bearing, instead choosing to grin like a young boy who had been given a pocket full of sweets. “We, of House Targaryen, receive you with open arms and open hearts! Let our houses be joined and begin a new era for us both, and the Seven Kingdoms!”
There was applause at the proclamation that almost seemed genuine if one didn't know any better. Unfortunately, Rheagar did.
Hiding his thoughts from all, he put on a faint grin as he shared a look with his betrothed. She met his gaze evenly, taking the measure of him just as much as he was of her. Yet, there were no words shared between them as the introductions were made. At least not then as the party was relieved with all honors with a promised feast to act as a prelude to the celebrations to come.
Yet, Rheagar saw an opening and stepped forward. Aenessa tilted her head ever so slightly at his approach, but seemed open to it. “It would be an honor to escort you to your rooms,” Rheagar offered.
As it was, the only time they would find a private moment to speak would be the bedding a full month from now. Likely not even then given that spies would make sure that the marriage was consummated. They wouldn't have a private moment until then, but this would be their first opportunity to… speak. To take a more accurate measure of each other.
“It would please me, my prince,” Aenessa agreed easily, accepting the offered arm. Rheagar took note of those who joined them -- Lucerys was obvious, as were the guards, but there was an unexpected man joining them.
Rheagar found that he knew nothing of the man. Meaning that he had been beneath his notice. No lord or rich merchant that was attached to their retinue. Yet, all the same, he joined rather high company as Rheagar led them out of the throne room, pretending he wasn't aware of everyone's eyes following them. Two in particular that watched Rheagar like a hawk from his perch on the Iron Throne.
“I must say, I didn't expect to be escorted by a prince. Delighted, but unexpected,” Aenessa noted as they stepped into a hallway, also aware of the gazes that followed them. Her brother fell back, standing with Arthur who dutifully followed with that man lagging behind them. “My betrothed is a bold man.”
“I thought I might have to be, Lady Valis. In the coming days, I suspect we shall see a great deal of each other, but find that we rarely have a chance to have a… private conversation,” Rheagar replied.
“That does seem quite likely,” Aenessa agreed. “I take it that you trust your… kingsguard, was it?”
“Ser Arthur? With everything,” Rheagar admitted honestly, making Aenessa favor him with a glance from the corner of her eye.
“The Sword of the Morning?” She ventured, making an effort to sound as if she hadn't already known. “Your legend has reached far and wide, Ser Arthur. Even within the black walls of Volantis we have heard tales of the few chosen wielders of Dawn. You must be pleased.” A prodding remark, taking his measure as much as she was him.
“It pleases me to be of service to my King and Prince,” Arthur replied flatly, and Aenessa's lips twitched. She approved, evidently.
Reaching out, she patted the arm that her own was looped around. “Don't think yourself to be any less distinguished, my Prince. Tales of your skills with a harp and sending flocks of pure hearted maidens to tears with a sad song is every bit as famed.”
“That is less of a testament to my skill and more of my penchant for melancholic songs,” Rheagar replied, giving her a humble smile. He was starting get a feel for the woman that would soon be his bride and queen.
She wasn't displeasing. She seemed clever enough. Aware and attentive. She had a charm to her and could carry a conversation. It wasn't exactly a high bar that Rheagar had set, but she was a far cry from his worst fears.
Yet…
Aenessa didn't strike him as a woman that was fleeing from Volantis, else her house would be destroyed.
“I think I would have to hear you playing myself to make a judgment there,” Aenessa replied, her tone light and flirtatious. “In the gardens perhaps?”
“It would be my pleasure, Lady Valis,” Rheagar replied, spying their destination that arrived all too swiftly.
“Please, call me Aenessa. We are to be King and Queen, after all,” Aenessa said, coming to a stop at the door. She knew where her quarters were beforehand. It wouldn't be unexpected for a lord or lady of the Seven Kingdoms, but for a foreigner… it was something to take note of.
“Aenessa,” Rheagar said, feeling the name out. “In that case, please call me Rheagar.”
“Rheagar,” Aenessa did the same, offering him a dazzling smile. “I hope for another opportunity to speak during the feast.”
“As do I,” Rheagar agreed, offering a courteous bow before stepping back to allow Aenessa into her chambers. Her touch lingered ever so slightly, but she stepped inside and was followed by her brother. Rheagar offered him an apologetic look, but he smiled at him.
“It's quite alright,” Lucerys said, “I would hope you're far more interested in my sister than myself.” Rheagar wasn't entirely certain what to make of the remark, so he simply inclined his head as he and Arthur departed. Yet, not without taking another lingering look at Lucerys.
He was as beardless as a boy.
Rhaegar waited until they were down the hall to speak, “Who was that man that joined us?”
“I don't know, my Prince. He didn't strike me as a servant. I shall find out,” Arthur said and Rheagar nodded. It was likely nothing, but it could be something and that made it worthy of his attention. “Your thoughts on your betrothed, my prince?”
Rhaegar continued forward, lulling the question over for a moment before he spoke.
“I don't trust that woman in the slightest.”
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