Fandom Unbowed [Closed]

[KyloGlenn]

Ser Pyke. Saige recognized the man, she swore she’d seen him with Oberyn’s friend earlier. And now he wore a cloak of gold. That seemed to be a new addition, as was confirmed by the older guard. Saige had to chuckle, even if she was unsure of what had been going on beforehand.

Then her attention turned to her brother. If Elia could’ve gotten any redder, Saige would’ve said she flushed at Oberyn’s compliment. But as it were, she was as red as it got. And not because of the blush. Saige, meanwhile, laughed. Her brother never failed to make either of them laugh, really. Saige knew then that she’d miss his presence dearly. Things would be duller without him around, that was for sure.

“It’s never too late to join me, brother. We could be the talk of the Keep together!” Because Saige knew that her attire would be the scandal around the Keep for a little bit. Saige expected it. Didn’t care. She was sure they’d get used to her dress in time. “And I wish I could take credit for Elia. But really, all I did was give her some color. I couldn’t have done it without her stunning features.” Saige gently petted her sister’s face, before pinching her cheeks.

Saige always insisted her sister was stunning. Because she was. Sure, she was skinnier and a little paler looking than most, but she was pretty. Some people couldn’t look past her sister’s illness. And it enraged Saige. Especially when people said such rude things about her.

Saige released her sister’s cheeks. “One more thing and then we’ll be ready!” Saige turned then. She’d take Elia’s advice on the red lipstick, covering her own lips in the statement color. Not that the red would make more of a statement than her attire.

Once she made sure the red was cleaned up around her lips and that there was no color on her teeth, she put it and the rest of the makeup away. “Alright, I think I’m going to scare everyone enough at this point.” Saige grinned before she took Oberyn’s arm. Elia took his other as it was offered to her. The three were joined together, a trio as they were. Probably for the last time. Not forever, hopefully, but a long while.

The siblings were terribly close. They’d all been separated from each other before, for a few years. But this seemed terribly permanent. Oberyn and Saige weren’t going to be able to return to their sister in Sunspear. This was Elia’s home now. And Saige’s for who knows how long, so that would be easier on the two girls. But they’d be without their brother. A personality that wasn’t easily forgotten.

Saige wondered what he’d get into in Dorne. Hopefully he wouldn’t have too much fun without them.

“Come! I want to get acquainted with the people here,” Saige pulled, leading her half-siblings out of the bedroom. Saige couldn’t wait to get the first half of the feast over with. Saige liked it the best when it was fun. When there was music and dancing and everyone was drunk out of their minds. The beginning was always so formal and boring.

And she was expecting the food to be just as boring. The further North they went, the food seemed to become more and more flavorless. Which was a good thing for Elia. Not so much Saige.

-

Even Rhaella herself enjoyed the stories Aemilia told. Or rather the bits and pieces she heard in the midst of her own thoughts. She liked the way they made her son happy. Even if it seemed to inspire him to venture beyond the wall, which Rhaella knew wouldn’t happen. Rhaella had to say that Aemilia, so far, was doing rather well. She was good with Viserys, which not everyone was.

Few people were.

Viserys complained about feasts. She knew he found them boring only because she didn’t allow him around the drunken excitement. He asked if either of the bastards would be sitting near them. Rhaella was pleased when Viserys corrected himself from saying bastard. She sped up to walk along side them, grabbing Viserys’s hand when Aemilia dropped his other. “Yes, my love. Both Lady Aemilia and Lady Saige are sitting at the High Table with us.”

“Yes! Are they sitting next to me?”

“No, not directly.” Viserys frowned at that. He wanted both the women next to him so he could hear all the stories. “But, after everyone finishes their food and you’re very polite, I’m sure they won’t mind spending a little time with you before I take you to bed. As long as you behave during the feast, that is.” Rhaella really felt no shame in bribing her son. It made him more cooperative. And would hopefully give Aerys no reason to become upset with him. Or her.

“I’ll be good, I promise!” He declared, more to Aemilia than his mother.

“I’m sure, Viserys. But you must prove it,” Rhaella led her son to the table and helped him onto his chair. It was then that Byron returned, standing in front of the High Table.

“Your Grace, everything is set and the guests are arriving.” He informed her, that aged smile on his face. And sure enough, tables were completely set and beginning to fill with Dornish guests and the crown’s own guests alike.

Rhaella stood straight, smiling back and nodding her head. “Thank you, Byron. You’ve done such a wonderful job here.”

“My pleasure, Your Grace. Enjoy the feast,” Byron bowed, waiting for Rhaella to dismiss him before he turned and left them.

“I wanna eat!” Viserys whined.

“You may eat once everyone is here. It won’t be long now,” Rhaella assured him, playing with his silver hair before she sat herself in her chair. But before she could push herself in, someone else was already doing so.

“My Queen,” Tywin Lannister greeted, arriving at just the right time.

“Oh, thank you, Lord Tywin,” Rhaella and Tywin were not friends. But they held respect for each other and were civil. That was more than she could say for Tywin and Aerys. Rhaella recalled Aemilia then. “My Lord, have you met Lady Hetherspoon yet?” She knew the Hetherspoons were of the West, but being as Aemilia was a bastard, she wasn’t sure if they were acquainted.

“I’ve met the Hetherspoons, but I don’t recall you, my Lady,” Tywin eyed the woman. She didn’t look like a Hetherspoon, that was for sure. He deduced that she must have been Tybolt’s bastard. He believed her name to be Aemilia. And he’d heard something about her being legitimized.

 

[Lucyfer]

Oberyn would always enjoy the fact that, although his family was competitive in many ways, when it came to each other, they were nothing but loving and supportive. Even Saige and Elia, as Saige so easily complimented her sister’s features without a touch of jealousy or derision. It was sincere in its way.

Even if Elia winced at the pinch.

Oberyn waited for Saige to finish her look, adding bright red to her lips that was sure to catch many off guard. Oberyn was pleased with the touch of color to her, though, even if so many would find it scandalous. Or perhaps that was why he was pleased with it – he wanted to see all these uppity Lords and Ladies have their worlds rocked a little.

He took the arms of both ladies, and strutted out with a woman on each arm. Even if they were just his sisters, such a good look was hard not to feel confident over. He laughed at her enthusiasm, “That eager to eat, what…bowls of brown?” He joked. He was sure the food would be far better than that, but he was of a similar opinion to Saige. The food down here was often lacking.

“More likely to dance,” Elia chimed, smiling serenely.

Oberyn immediately teased, “No, no, that is what you are looking forward to, with your pretty prince,” he said, “I’m sure there will be a good, slow song…I’ll make sure of it.” At least such teases kept that beautiful color upon his sister’s face. “You two will be a lovely contrast together,” he said then, thinking of her dark hair and darker skin, compared to the prince’s fair skin and silver hair.

It might be beautiful, and the two should be closer if they were to be wed. Elia may not be as…forward as many others, but she should still have some physical intimacy with her fiancé before the big night.

As they stepped out of Maegor’s Holdfast, he heard the older guard speaking with Pyke, apparently chastising him for just letting ‘anyone’ in – apparently, he didn’t believe that Pyke knew Oberyn, or just didn’t care based on how easily he let Oberyn in. Regardless, Oberyn didn’t shout back anything, only wondered a bit at what was going on with Pyke and Aemilia.

Pity he couldn’t stay – he’d find out, though. Or at least see if Saige would take an interest – the two might even get along, both bastards. Aemilia knew how to navigate the world of being a bastard in this part of the world.

He’d introduce them better at the feast, once the actual feasting was done.

They were approaching the Red Keep then, and Oberyn pulled Elia closer, “There’s your princely love,” he chimed, seeing the man walking alongside the king as they approached the Red Keep ahead of them.

Elia floundered a bit, thought to comment she didn’t love him…yet…and then didn’t, because the point was that she would, and he was charming enough. “You make that sound like a bad thing,” with his teasing. As if she ought to be ashamed.

Oberyn looked momentarily shocked that Elia had spoken up. Then, he cracked a smile, full of pride.

~***~

They moved on towards the High Table, and Aemilia remembered the seat she had. The place where Tywin would sit. ‘Oberyn, as well.’ She was going to die of hatred or embarrassment. She wasn’t sure which would be the faster poison. She did give Viserys a smile, “I believe in you,” she offered, to hopefully steel him with some confidence to behave.

She let Rhaella situate her son, remaining standing just in case her assistance was needed. It wasn’t, though – for a Queen, Rhaella truly did know how to handle her children. It endeared the Queen all the more to her – and it made her miss Melara horribly. Rhaella must not have had a wet nurse, or else, she was very hands-on after. Aemilia did wonder, but wouldn’t ask there. They could be easily interrupted.

And they were.

As Rhaella was taking her seat, Aemilia turned to her own, and only heard the exchange. She didn’t see Tywin’s shadow fall upon the room, nor hear his steps. For a lion that roared, he was far too quiet in his approach, and Aemilia was grateful that for a moment, she had her back turned. It allowed her a moment to try and steel herself, to take a breath, and grasp at that old bastard identity she was starting to grow away from.

She looked to him after she’d pulled the chair for herself, while Rhaella spoke. She inclined her head politely, but nothing more, “We have never met before, Lord Hand. I am Aemilia Hetherspoon.” It was only then she realized that, perhaps, she should have changed her name. Aemilia wasn’t common – inspired by Aerys, Aegon, Aemon…inspired to be something more, as only Roger would devise. Damn him. Damn her.

‘We met years ago when Genna was engaged to Emmon Frey, and my father stormed out in anger – as angry as you were.’

She lifted her gaze back, realizing then how right Viserys was to compare their eyes. “I was not called Hetherspoon until three years ago, so it would not have been proper.”

‘You know, shortly after my sister died.’

And yet still she smiled, “It is good to meet the man who has done so much by advising His Grace.” No matter what, she supposed that was true. Tywin was known for managing things well, even if Aerys continued to slight him.

And that seemed the cue for Aerys, as the man came walking in, with Rhaegar at his side, apparently intentionally maintaining the pace with his father. Aerys let his eyes sweep the room, the people there, and the decorations – but more importantly, the smell, “Did we turn the Red Keep into a Dornish brothel?”

“Father, the food is set to make my future wife seem comfortable—”

Aerys interrupted, “She’s to be one of us, she should learn to eat like us,” he grumbled his protest, “I knew this match wasn’t good to start with, now we’ll be eating this sort of…food.” As if it could be called food from the smells.

He also didn’t seem satisfied with the table settings. Not their house colors. Viserys shrunk a bit in his chair, and Aemilia’s anger found a new target, though she did not speak then. Lowered her gaze, and shifted to take her seat, rather than occupy herself with awkward standing.

“She will learn,” Rhaegar tried to say, “You have to give them a chance. Give her a chance.” He added, not coming around the table as Aerys did, moving to take his seat with Rhaella while fixing Tywin with a look that told him to step away. Once, they had certainly been friends, but more and more he suspected Tywin was plotting against him. He didn’t favor his Hand’s closeness to Rhaella, either.

 

[KyloGlenn]

There was something very familiar about Aemilia Hetherspoon that Tywin Lannister simply could not place. Which was lucky for her. It had been many years since Tywin had the Reynes and the Tarbecks eradicated. After nearly two decades, the faces of the Reynes and the Tarbecks had slipped from memory. Of course, what had happened slipped the minds of none. The Rains of Castamere was played at every event across Westeros.

This one would be no different.

Tywin nearly scoffed at ‘advising His Grace’. Tywin Lannister was essentially ‘His Grace’ in all but name. Tywin ran the Seven Kingdoms while Aerys took credit for it, even if everyone knew the truth. Though, it seemed that as of late, Aerys was doing whatever he could to undermine Tywin’s attempts at keeping the country at peace. Despite his bitterness and Aemilia’s obviously obligatory flattery, he went to say something along the lines of thanking her for it. Purely out of courtesy for her being a Hetherspoon and Rhaella’s handmaiden.

But before he could, the aforementioned King Aerys decided to join them, joined by the prince. Aerys came around to claim his seat, staring down Tywin who was blocking the way for having assisted the Queen momentarily. Aerys’s gaze did nothing to intimidate Tywin, but he did step aside. Only after fixing the King, who seemed to grow more and more unkempt every time he saw him—which wasn’t often—with a stare of his own. Tywin Lannister’s cold gaze, known to be rather intimidating.

And then Tywin took his seat between Aemilia and the King. No words of a respectful greeting were uttered. Nothing.

Tywin paid no mind to the fact that a former bastard, a handmaiden was sitting on the other side of him. It was inconsequential compared to having to sit next to Aerys Targaryen.

Tywin knew that Aerys though he was conspiring against him. And Tywin had thought about it, in truth. Contemplated various ways to overthrow Aerys. Letting his forces into KIng’s Landing, having the man poisoned, or starting an open rebellion. But Tywin had done none of those things, for they were not smart. Not yet.

Rhaella hated the way Aerys stood behind her, even if she knew he was only doing so because of Tywin. She tensed at his presence, just as many others did. She fought the urge to look behind her to make sure he wasn’t about to do anything to her until he finally sat down. But Rhaella felt no relief. Especially not as her brother’s hand reached over to grip her thigh. Painfully, possessively.

Rhaella did not flinch, however. Nor did she attempt to shoo him away. She sat in her seat, quietly. Submissively as Aerys always wanted her. Her own hand reached over to comfort her son, Viserys even disturbed by his father’s presence.

Amongst the people filing in came the Dornish guests of honor. Prince Oberyn with his sisters on either arm. All eyes seemed to become drawn to them, as they were quite the sight. Some eyes widened in horror at the sight of one in particular. Saige. While Elia’s dress would have typically been thought to be less than appropriate, it was nothing compared to Saige’s sinful show of skin.

Though, while eyes were on three, The Dornishmen’s eyes seemed to move to the dragon skulls that had been moved to line the room. Saige’s eyes were specifically drawn to the largest one. ‘Balerion the Black Dread.’ The name came to mind immediately. She’d heard stories of the dragon. Of how not even the largest of the Targaryen’s dragons could conquer Dorne.

She could understand how Viserys could be so fascinated by the now extinct creatures.

All three of them seemed to snap back into reality when they saw the Queen rise. Though what they didn’t see was Aerys’s hand dropping from her leg, something Rhaella hoped her husband would pay no mind to. Saige tried to remove her arm from Oberyn’s to go be a bastard somewhere, but Oberyn didn’t let her go. His grip only tightened.

The Queen came around the table to greet her soon-to-be daughter and her siblings. And it was then that Elia began to stress once again, her steps that had been confident moments before becoming hesitant.

But Oberyn moved them all along.

They stopped shortly before the Queen, Oberyn finally letting go of his sisters so that they could all show their respect. But before Elia could even curtsy, Rhaella had gently grasped Elia’s arms and pulled her in to kiss her cheek. “Princess Elia, it’s lovely to finally meet you. You look beautiful,” Even as Rhaella said these things, a smile on her face, her attitude was still much different from the way she’d said such things to Aemilia earlier. Now she was quiet, her smile forced even if she was happy to meet Elia.

Rhaella released Elia, turning to look at her siblings. “Prince Oberyn, Lady Saige, it’s a pleasure,” She greeted them as well, Saige managing to offer her best curtsy.

 

[Lucyfer]

Not a word passed the Golden Lion’s lips, and Aemilia may have been grateful to Aerys, were she not too much her father’s daughter. Tybolt had told her as much when she was a child throwing a tantrum that she was to be a bastard. He told her as much when she was moody teenager, demanding she no longer be instructed by a Septa, and again as she became an adult, where one thing never changed: she wanted Tywin’s head on a spike.

She wanted the satisfaction of his anger and his spite, as much as she wanted to show it herself, and that urge pulled at her in each passing second. ‘You could turn Aerys on him.’ The thought came as Tywin sat down besides her. ‘All it would take would be a few choice words of Tywin going to see Rhaella…of a comment of Aerys’s own liberties with Joanna…and he would burn Tywin for you.’

Why would a handmaiden lie? It could be so easy….

Except, as her gaze drifted down the table, she recalled who else that lie hurt. She was willing to let the entire realm burn without Tywin’s guidance – her words were understated, even she knew what he did – but not Rhaella. If she spoke of Tywin seeing Rhaella in such a way, then Rhaella would be harmed. ‘Damn it.’ Different plan then, find a way to somehow heighten the rumors of Tywin’s conspiratorial plans against Aerys until Aerys burned him for treason.

Aemilia would just have to observe a little longer, although when she saw the flutter of the table cloth, she forced her attention away and towards the doors. ‘Does Aerys really need to live for the plans?’ How difficult would it be to frame Tywin for murdering Aerys? Two beasts with one poison….

‘Patience.’ Supposedly, she had that.

She also had her father’s temper, which she could sense may be problematic as her fists clenched over the fabric of her dress as she sat besides Tywin, watching guards and other guests enter – the high table wouldn’t be special if there weren’t other Nobles around, after all. Soon enough, her eyes fell upon Oberyn Martell and the Martell siblings, and the fists relaxed, Her gaze calmed. She wasn’t allowed to storm out of anything like Roger.

Rhaella rose then, and Rhaegar, who hadn’t quite took his seat besides Viserys, straightened against the back of the chair he was leaning on. Aemilia could not help but smile at the scandalous sight of Saige, and even Elia. She was quite pleased with the sight of them, even if she heard a huff part Aerys’s lips, and swore she heard a muttered, “Whores.” Not loud enough perhaps to descend to the Dornish, but loud enough for her to hear, and likely, Tywin. “This is what we’ve become….” And his gaze fixed itself on Rhaegar.

Aerys didn’t rise. Kings didn’t rise for people.

Rhaegar ignored the sensation that a hot iron was being pushed into the back of his skull. He knew it was Aerys – he knew he would not be happy with this. He hadn’t been happy from the start, of course, but Rhaegar would be.

Although, as he looked over both of the women, he could not help but find himself drawn to the one showing…more. Or less, depending on how one phrased it. There was less fabric, which showed off a lovely build, nowhere near as soft as Elia’s, and for that reason he liked it all the more. He was trying not to make it obvious, though, but his eyes certainly wandered it, and the dashing red lips.

Targaryen colors.

While Elia was still pretty, that seemed all to him – pretty. ‘You haven’t even known her a day, nor Saige.’ He chastised himself, and approached as his mother drew away from Elia, an encouraging smile on his lips. “You three will certainly be the talk of King’s Landing for some time,” he noted, as he offered his arm to Elia, “My lady,” and she took it, and he came to step alongside her, to look back at his father then.

Rhaella, too, stepped to a side, “Father, may I present Princess Elia Martell of Dorne?”

“You may – I wouldn’t have recognized her or the rest from the street urchins in these rags. What, are the Dornish so poor they can’t afford to cover themselves properly?”

Elia flushed and looked down, tried to step closer and behind Rhaegar, but he didn't quite allow it. He held her arm firmly at his side, not letting her shrink behind him.

Aemilia wanted to speak. She caught the words in her throat, the insult to Aerys’s intelligence, before it came out. Oberyn laughed it off, but one could just as easily see the anger in his eyes, if they cared to notice. Or perhaps, Aemilia just knew him well enough to know the familiar glint of poison, and to know when his words dripped with venom, “Your Grace, we were wholly unprepared for this climate – wearing the dresses found here in King’s Landing would be suicide in Dorne, we are not dragons like you, the warmth bothers us,” his flattery was laid on thick, and Aemilia shot him an impish smirk for it. “I am certain that as my sisters get used to King’s Landing, there will come a day when you cannot tell them apart from your own family, Your Grace.”

Aerys wrinkled his nose, relaxing back only to say, “I doubt that. They’ll always smell like Dorne.”

“A pleasant and heady smell,” Oberyn observed, and then offered his arm to Saige as Rhaella looked up, imploring.

Aerys may not like it. He may be king, but his family needed heirs. He could not just discard this out of hand as he wanted, though he wasn’t happy with this. Still, he allowed, “Welcome, Princess Elia Martell, Prince Oberyn Martell, and Saige.” She was no Lady. She wasn’t legitimized – the other bastard was barely a lady. “It seems we’re to have you all up here with us.” Bastards and whores at his table.

Rhaegar encouraged Elia to come along with him, as Rhaella passed by first, touching the girl’s arm and passing her a quick look that Aerys would not see, before she went to her own seat once more, sitting hastily alongside Aerys and keeping her head bowed then, as Rhaegar led Elia up, and pulled the chair for her.

At least her son had manners.

 

[KyloGlenn]

Aemilia was not good at concealing her emotions. If she was even trying to. Tywin did not have to look at her to tell she was tense. When he did glance at her, out of the corner of his eyes, he could see her fists clench the fabric of her dress. What had her so upset, Tywin did not know. Nor did he really care, but he did observe the strange behavior. And he nearly rolled his eyes, but not because of her.

Because of Aerys. And his complaints of what his house had been reduced to. Tywin couldn’t help but think Aerys an idiot for whining. There were multiple chances for Aerys to do something else. Have Rhaegar marry Cersei, something Tywin would forever be bitter about. Or if he insisted on keeping the Valyrian bloodline pure or keep the Targaryen looks, there were plenty of wealthy women in Lys.

But he’d consented to the union. The Martells had some dragon’s blood in them, to keep the Targaryens incestuous.

Aerys had no room to bitch and yet he did.

Aerys continued to insult the Dornish, more than irritation clear in the eyes of Elia’s younger siblings. Oberyn managed to laugh it off, coming up with an excuse for their dress and assured they’d fit right in soon enough. Lies, Saige would have insisted. Saige’s jaw clenched, tight. She’d managed to not clench her fists or shoot the king a glare, but she knew if she opened her mouth she’d not be able to stop herself from snapping.

Anything she’d have said surely would have gotten her burned.

Saige was surprised that even she was sitting at the High Table. At home, she would have. It was not unusual. But this was not Dorne. She suspected it was either Rhaegar or Rhaella’s doing, as Aerys was clearly not fond of the Dornish in general already. Let alone her, a bastard. But Saige didn’t protest and she finally took Oberyn’s arm as it had been offered to her, though her grip was harsh.

Most of Elia’s confidence had dissipated, if not all of it. Rhaella seemed to like her, which did comfort Elia. But Aerys already didn’t like her. Elia let Rhaegar lead her to her seat, a smile returning to her face as he pulled the chair out for her. Rhaegar didn’t seem at all like his father. It gave Elia hope. It gave Saige hope, too, but she wasn’t sold on him yet, as kind as he seemed to be.

Seemed to be.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Elia managed to find her voice. She supposed the scariest part was over, being introduced to the King and Queen. Still, there was the rest of the feast to get through. But luckily, she was going to spend it talking to Rhaegar. Getting to know her fiancé, dancing and all as Oberyn would make sure of. And Elia hoped she’d like what she’d get to know and that he’d like her as well.

Oberyn escorted his half-sister to her seat, pulling out the chair for her as well. She sat, saying her thanks as he pushed her chair in. “Come see me after the feasting is over, I have someone for you to meet. Officially.” He spoke quietly to Saige.

Saige looked up to Oberyn, and eyebrow raised, “Oh?”

Oberyn smiled down at his sister, “I think you two will get along. Enjoy yourself, little sister.” Oberyn’s hand squeezed Saige’s shoulder, Saige’s own hand reaching up to touch Oberyn’s before it left her shoulder.

Oberyn stopped behind his older sister, placing a quick kiss to the top of her head before he retreated to his own seat. Next to Aemila.

He slid into his chair, offering Aemilia a smirk as he grabbed her hand to place a kiss on the back of it, playfully of course. “A great honor has been bestowed upon me, the honor of sitting next to you, Lady Aemilia.” He winked before he looked past her, to Tywin.

There was a smugness he felt. The fact that Tywin was forced to sit through a feast welcoming his sister as Rhaegar’s wife, when years prior he’d insulted him and Elia. Insisted Cersei was going to marry Prince Rhaegar. Offered his newborn dwarf as Elia’s husband instead. And now look who was marrying the prince. Certainly wasn’t Cersei. “Lord Tywin! A pleasure to see you again after so many years!”

Tywin’s gaze turned to Oberyn, but the Dornishman did not flinch. “I imagine there’s little truth to that statemant, Prince Oberyn.” Tywin’s voice was light in tone, to insist that the Prince of Dorne’s words did not bother him. The Lion did not allow anyone the satisfaction of knowing they’d irked him.

Before a response came from Oberyn, the feast commenced. The large doors were shut by guards as the room was filled to the brim, already rowdy. The feast started by those at the High Table being served food and wine first, as was tradition. And there was little time wasted before the others dug into the varying dishes. Few of the Dornish truly cared whether the food was spiced to their liking or not, simply happy to have such a large meal and a constant supply of wine after traveling for so long.

 

[Lucyfer]

The Martells came up, Rhaegar pointedly ignoring his father’s looks then, and letting the Martells take hold of his attention instead. His body language shunned Aerys, as he kept as much of his back to him as possible, and tried to shield Elia a bit, but not wholly. Viserys was now mute, and Rhaegar could think of nothing for him then as Rhaella returned to her seat.

He wished to offer them some reassurance, but how could he?

Aerys was his father.

Aerys was king. He should not think such atrocious thoughts of his father, but sometimes, he did. Right then, he was thinking only of going to Dragonstone once he was wed, and being rid of it. He could go with Elia, go with Saige, and remove them from the hell that was King’s Landing. The idea solidified itself more and more with each passing day – as soon as he was married, he’d leave.

His mother may resent him for it, but she would understand. She had to understand it was better than being here.

His eyes shifted to Oberyn as he lingered a moment by Saige, and Rhaegar wondered where he was to sit, then. It seemed it was not alongside his sisters – no, there was a seat besides Lady Hetherspoon. ‘Are they more?’ An idle thought, but it seemed strange to place the woman between the two men. Well, he didn’t truly understand all that came into High Table seating, it was mostly to make all comfortable, or as comfortable as they could be.

Oberyn kissed his sisters farewell, and Rhaegar did not give him an apologetic smile, but tried to catch his gaze all the shame to reassure him that he would do his best to keep Aerys from harming them. He did not know how well he could show it in a steadfast gaze, and in the way he tried to position himself so that he shielded Elia a bit while they sat, but he hoped that he did as the man walked off to his side of the table.

It was not long after Oberyn went to that side, that the dishes were brought out, and soon laid before them. Elia looked a bit surprised as they came out, “Is something the matter?” He asked, taking in her look then.

She shook her head, “No, not at all,” that was what surprised her, “I see many dishes and spices from Dorne used here, but…,” she smiled, “…they are not overpowering.” So many at home were so spicy, or so acidic, that she could not enjoy them. She did not know what to expect here, though she had smelled some familiar scents upon entering. She hadn’t thought to mention such to anyone here just yet, expecting she would be enjoying the more bland tastes of King’s Landing, rather than Dornish food.

It did seem that Aerys didn’t approve it by the way he scowled and stabbed at the food to bring it to his plate, but Elia lifted happily from her seat to reach for what she liked, before glancing at her sister and smiling sheepishly, “I’m sorry they didn’t seem to think of spicier things, sister,” she chuckled, as Rhaegar added food to his own plate.

He asked, then, “So you do not prefer the spicy foods?”

“I would, perhaps, but…my body does not,” she sighed.

He glanced down to Saige, “And you? None of this at all seems bland to me….”


Aemilia was quite glad when Oberyn came to join her side, when he made a show of greeting her. She was contented then, recalling in the moment that he had an issue with Tywin – mild, perhaps, compared to her own issue, but an issue as well. A reason to be smug and terrorize the Hand just a bit, to enjoy his suffering in the moment. It came crashing back to her mind as she turned to him when her hand was taken, and she saw his glance beyond her at Tywin.

‘Cersei.’

The Martells had tried to arrange a match there. Oberyn would have been wed to Cersei, had it panned out, or Elia to Jaime – but it didn’t. Nor did Tywin’s plans to marry Cersei to Rhaegar, no, Elia was stealing that from her, and Aemilia felt that pleasure twist in her heart, too.

“Did you miss me so much already, Prince Oberyn?” she couldn’t help but tease, her mood restored, as she drew her hand back.

His words passed between him and Tywin, and she shifted herself back to be more center facing, glancing at Tywin as he spoke bluntly to the Prince. She had expected him to keep on an air of respect here, but it seemed that was downed under Oberyn’s influence. She shouldn’t be jealous – but she was. ‘It’s good he isn’t raising his hackles with you. That means he has no idea.’ Still….

The food came before Oberyn could respond, but she heard his low chuckle, a sound she knew well, and she glanced his way as he settled into his seat. His eyes shifted to her as he felt the look. Only a gesture of her eyebrow suggested anything, but it was enough before she leaned forward to take some food. She wasn’t going to jump to defend her liege lord.

The Viper could have his fun. She might even join. Oberyn already knew how much she detested the Rains of Castamere, on principal, of course…who could celebrate genocide?

“I suppose you’re right,” Oberyn finally said, once he had served himself some food, “I had thought by now you’d be more like your father,” Oberyn continued, “I always heard he was not so bad, amiable, good-natured. There’s even such a lovely song for him – ah, Lady Aemilia, do you think we’ll hear it tonight?”

Aemilia knew the song. How many drunken times had she sung it? “Perhaps,” no way in hell unless she pulled a string or two.

“I hope so, it’s my favorite song to come of the West, far less morbid than most – a simple love song,” he chuckled. Of a man and a low-born woman. He was pretty sure Tywin wished it forgotten. Aemilia reached for her wine. She was going to need more than one glass. She better get started. “How is Lady Cersei? Will she be here tonight? Or perhaps, Lord Tyrion?”

Aemilia was going to hug Oberyn when she got the chance. Or at least enjoy a few good dances with him. She managed not to cough on her wine as she set it aside before Oberyn said something too ridiculous, and she let her attention turn to the duck and potatoes, pretending to be a good woman…silent but present. For a moment.

 

[KyloGlenn]

Saige and her sister shared a glance with each other, smiles breaking onto their faces before they laughed. Saige shook her head, looking over Elia to Rhaegar. “Of course not. I take it you haven’t had real Dornish food before, have you?” This was probably the most flavor he’d had in his life. She laughed again, “Forgive me, Your Grace. To be fair, I wouldn’t call it bland per se. It simply lacks the flavor I’m used to.”

“If her entire body isn’t on fire then it’s under seasoned,” Elia mentioned.

Saige took her turn to load up her plate with food, which smelled Dornish but she knew it didn’t taste the same. And that was fine, she supposed. “I’ll get used to the food here. Or I’ll simply season it myself. This is perfect for Elia, though.” Even on the daily, when they didn’t attempt Dornish food, Elia would love eating all the bland food here. Which was enough for Saige.

Saige stabbed into a ham, cutting it up. Food was food, she wasn’t going to complain about it. Though, “Maybe one day you’ll take my sister back to Sunspear. Have a real taste of Dorne.” Saige already beginning to implant the idea of taking Elia to Dorne. Whether Saige was still around as Elia’s handmaiden or not, she wanted Rhaegar to let her sister visit her home.

“Maybe,” Elia mused. She wanted to go home one day. See Doran and her parents and her old home. But she wouldn’t push it. She doubted it would be as easy as saying they would simply go to Dorne. That is, if Rhaegar would ever want, or let her, go to Dorne.

Saige hummed, washing down a bite of food with some wine. “At least the wine here is nice,” she offered, drinking more of it. Of course, she had her favorites. Which surprisingly wasn't of Dornish origin. She did like her home’s strongwines, but her favorite had to be sweet wines from Lys. She liked to think it was her birth mother’s tastes poking through.

But as long as the wine tasted halfway decent, Saige could get through any bland meal. Or anything at all, really.

Rhaella sat in silence, listening to the conversations going on around her table as she piled food onto her youngest son’s plate, cutting it into tiny bites for him. She supposed she could have a servant do it for her, but she didn’t mind. And it was something mindless to do as she observed the others. Elia and Saige were laughing, which Rhaella took as a good sign.

Aerys was continuously mumbling to her about his displeasure with the Dornish. “I’m marrying my first born son, my heir, to a whore and her family. There are bastards sitting at my table, welcomed at my table.” He continued to hiss such thing in her ear and Rhaella could only endure it. She couldn’t say anything to defend Elia and her family or her own new handmaiden.

When Aerys took a break from grumbling harsh words, she finished cutting up Viserys’s food. “What do you say, my love?” She asked quietly as she tilted his chin up.

“Thank you, Momma.” His response was practically a whisper. His…big personality—the only way Rhaella could describe it—dissipated in the presence of his father. Rhaella knew he worried about saying or doing the wrong thing. She took comfort that he’d relax as the night went on. When Aerys got drunker and either went to bed or went to terrorize some woman.

She kissed his cheek before her attention went to her own food, which she only picked at. Her mind went through various rearrangements of seating she could have used instead. Having just Elia at the High Table. Or Elia and Oberyn. Or have them all at a separate table altogether. But she supposed it was too late now. It wasn’t often Rhaella made mistakes like this.

And it was a mistake, she decided. As even though she’d placed Aemilia in between the two men, the Golden Lion and the Red Viper still managed to pester each other.

Tywin sliced a piece of meat as Oberyn went on about his father and the silly song about Tytos and one of his whores. He’d heard it one too many times, sung by many. Men of his own, sung by Lords and Ladies. Drunken idiots in bars and brothels. But it was rarely purposefully played in front of Tywin. As everyone knew just how Tywin felt about his weak, pathetic father.

Amiable, good-natured. That translated to powerless and weak-willed.

“My children need not concern themselves with trifling events such as this.” Tywin dismissed easily. In truth, he never would have brought Tyrion. And Cersei had wanted so desperately to come, but he knew she’d only try and intimidate Elia. Or think she’d be able to convince Rhaegar and Aerys that she’d be a better match. Such a young, determined girl.

Tywin should find himself proud, but it was rather infuriating.

Sometimes he couldn’t help but think that Joanna would have known how to handle their daughter.

Oberyn took notice of Tywin’s slight. “Shame. I hear Lady Cersei only grows more beautiful the older she gets. It’s a wonder how you haven’t married her off yet. I would have gladly taken her as a wife, should you have accepted the proprosal. And Lord Tyrion, I’d be curious to see him grown. See if he really is as strange as they say. He looked nothing but a normal baby last I saw him.” How many years now.

He hadn’t been completely normal. Proportions were a little off. But as his sister had said all those years ago, he was just a baby. Not the creature Tyrion’s sister made him out to be.

Tywin said nothing as Oberyn berated him. A tactic Tywin often used in court when Aerys would slight him. Better to be silent than let someone know they bothered him. “My sister Elia is marrying the prince, obviously. But I have another sister. I’m sure you’ve heard of my bastard sister, Saige. There’s a bit of an age gap, but if all else fails I’m sure my mother could be convinced of such an arrangement when Lord Tyrion comes of age.”

“My son may be deformed, but he’s still a Lannister. As pretty as your bastard sister is, she’s no match for Tyrion.” Tywin assured, taking a sip of his wine. This would be a long night, would it not?

And Aemilia was in between Prince Oberyn and Lord Tywin. Not for the whole night, but during the feast. Which would be the only time Oberyn and Tywin had to endure each other.

 

[Lucyfer]

Rhaegar felt a moment of embarrassment as the two girls started to laugh at him. He should have seen it coming, but he truly didn’t expect that their opinion of food and flavors varied so much. Dorne was a part of Westeros, but it seemed their cuisine was, indeed, quite unique. Spicy, as Elia put it, considering that Saige wanted her body burning from the seasoning. Rhaegar hadn’t gotten to experiment with such.

He had a feeling if he ever challenged Saige to a competition of spicy food and who could survive, he’d lose. A dragon was supposed to be immune to burning…but no one ever clarified if that meant burning spices, as well.

Still, it might be fun, and his grin became a bit lopsided as he considered it. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he noted, of both their preferences, before he turned his own attention to the food again and listened as they spoke of Dorne. Of going to Dorne. ‘Homesick already?’ He wondered if he would become so, if he left King’s Landing.

A trip to Dorne might be an easy way to segue into a trip to Dragonstone, where he could then stay. “I think such a trip would be in order,” he said, dropping his voice as if paranoid that he might be overheard plotting such a thing. Conspiring to leave. Wouldn’t Aerys hate that? Rhaella may even. Yet, he did want to go. This was a good opportunity, “I am certain I will meet your family when we wed, but I would like to see your home as well, Princess Elia,” he said, “I have no qualms at all with visiting it. As it is, I likely need to see much more of my kingdom.”

Dorne could be the start of a trip, that would keep him far away from his father for many, many years. Perhaps he’d get stuck in the North by their infamous winters.

“Do you promise?” Elia asked, some hope peeking through as she lifted her eyes to him.

He gave a gentle smile, “Of course,” and then heard the comment of the wine. He grinned, “It is good wine, from the Arbor,” he told her. The Reach produced some of the best wine, and few surpassed those from the Arbor. “And when we go to Dorne, Lady Saige, you’re going to introduce me to the hottest foods around.”

Elia paled a bit, “Rhaegar—Prince Rhaegar, I really don’t think that’s a good idea….”

Rhaegar heard Viserys thank Rhaella as he said, “Of course it is,” before turning his head slightly to see his younger brother with all of his cut up food. He wanted to tease him for still having his food cut up, but wouldn’t. Not with Aerys there, who looked sour.

Tywin looked sour. Oberyn and Aemilia, though, both seemed amused, even if Aemilia seemed intent on drowning her smile with wine. He let his attention shift back to the Martells – well, the Martell and the Bastard – as Viserys began to eat. He didn’t see the way his face scrunched up, clearly uncertain about what he just put into his mouth. “Well, Lady Saige? Do we have a deal?”


Further down, Aemilia was indeed trying to drown her smile. She could never explain it, and she knew that grin was fueling Oberyn, just as Tywin’s irritation was fueling him. Oberyn lived on spite and poison, no matter how optimistic he seemed. Besides, she wanted to listen. She wanted every word that Oberyn drew from Tywin, even as a thought beat at the back of her head. ‘You need to get on his good side, not infuriate him.’

Yes. Yes she did. But couldn’t Tywin defend himself from a little viper?

It was Oberyn’s next comments that made Aemilia wish for her name. For her titles. For all that Tywin had stolen, so she could speak without fear, the way Oberyn did. “You think Saige is pretty?” Oberyn perked up, “Ah, I’ll have to tell her!” There was laughter in his voice, relief, and then, “All this time, I thought you were a eunuch.”

Aemilia managed to swallow fast, and that got a comment from her, “He has children!” In utter disbelief that Oberyn would say such a thing, but still horribly, horribly, amused. Did he actually say that?

Oberyn shrugged, that wry smirk still twisted on his lips, “I never said he was born that way. It has just always seemed odd a man who lost his wife so many years ago, and is still so young, has not married again. Lord Frey has gone through many wives already, and certainly, Lord Tywin is not without his suitors.”

“So you thought he became a eunuch….”

“It’s the only thing that made sense.”

“To a slut like you, maybe.” It was a brief thought of Roger, of Sybelle, that made her think how Roger likely would not have remarried, either. At least he was never faced with that.

Perhaps she should have held her own tongue, though. Oberyn seemed pleased to break some of her front at the high table, “Maidens,” he gave a sigh. Aemilia rolled her eyes. Maiden she was not, but no one ever needed to know that she was ever indecent. No one cared about a bastard’s purity, though she was a ‘lady’ now. Not that she ever stopped being one…. “Speaking of—”

“No,” Aemilia flatly denied him before he could continue. It was ever a game – or if it wasn’t, Aemilia knew no different. “Though if you’re thinking of marriages, Oberyn, and want to tie yourself so desperately to the West and the Lannisters,” mocking him a bit now in tone, but all in play. It was a way to shift things away. “I think Ser Gerion and Lady Saige would get on well.” Closer to her age, and Gerion was at least a decent Lannister. “And he seems to have an interest in…atypical women.” Common women. Tywin might think that fact was well-hidden, but it wasn’t. At least, not to someone looking for dirt on the Lannisters. Like her.

Tywin couldn’t reign in his brother.

 

[KyloGlenn]

Rhaegar voice lowered—something Saige took notice of—as he promised to take Elia home. Only to visit of course, but to take her home no less. And Elia was hopeful. Sweet and hopeful, and Saige would hate to see Elia heartbroken over a broken promise. So for Rhaegar’s sake, Saige hoped he was serious. Of course, she said none of this out loud. And at the very least, Saige didn’t think Rhaegar would purposefully break that promise.

So far he seemed kind. Either that, or he was very good at pretending to be. He had the entirety of Westeros fooled, if that was the case.

Saige nearly choked on her Arbor wine—which she was not surprised about, they were the royal family after all—when Rhaegar asked her to introduce him to the hottest foods in Dorne. “I don’t think you quite know what you’re getting yourself into, Prince Rhaegar.” She laughed again, especially as she looked beyond Rhaegar to little Viserys, who clearly did not understand what he was eating, though he kept shoveling food into his mouth.

The faster he ate the less he would taste…the closer he’d get to stories.

And Rhaegar wouldn’t understand what he was eating either. There was spicy Dornish food, and then there were the hottest. Which admittedly, would be entertaining to see… “We have a deal, Your Grace. But it will be no fault of mine if you get sick.” Saige finished off her wine rather quickly. It was great quality wine. And before she could even set her cup down, there was a woman refilling it.

“Saige, I’d like to have a husband afterwards, so maybe nothing too hot? I’d like him to actually see Dorne during the trip,” Not bedridden. Or chamber pot ridden. Elia was already excited to show Rhaegar her favorite places around her home. Even if it was a little while off.

“Husband? You’re calling him your husband already, Elia?” Saige teased, playfully.

Elia’s previously pale face turned red as she shot her sister a look. Would she ever return to her natural color? “Well, he would be at that point,” As she assumed it would happen after they married. She shook her head, “Aren’t you supposed to make me more comfortable here, Saige?” Elia quietly mumbled, but she was smiling nonetheless.

“Oh, right. I’d forgotten.” Saige hadn’t forgotten.


Tywin was going to let the children have their fun. After all, they were exactly that. Oberyn was what, twenty? Twenty-one? He didn’t know how old Aemilia Hetherspoon was exactly, but younger than him. That much he knew. And he wasn’t planning on arguing with the crown’s ‘guests of honor’ at an unimportant event such as a feast welcoming Rhaegar’s unfit wife.

Not with Aerys sitting next to him, who would happily use whatever Tywin said against him. If the King even heard anything over his own vulgar mumblings.

He wasn’t going to waste energy on defending himself.

He was going to let them have their fun. Keyword: was.

Oberyn spoke of Tywin’s deceased wife. Only in passing and Oberyn and Lady Aemilia quickly moved from the subject, but it was enough to push Tywin over the edge of mild irritation. It wasn’t as if Joanna hadn’t been spoken of following her death, or if he tried not to think of her. There wasn’t a day that he wasn’t reminded of her. He’d mourned her and had moved on as best he could. Though, never with another woman. He could have whatever woman he wanted, really. But he didn’t want whatever woman. And political marriages were what he had children for.

Tywin was not sensitive when it came to talking of his former Lady. He could handle the comments he’d always heard. Usually not directly, unless in the case of Aerys.

Another reason there was a drift between Aerys and Tywin.

But Tywin was finished listening to Oberyn’s comments. On him and his family. The idea of the bastard and his brother was absurd, even if he knew of his brother’s…preferences. Gerion was difficult. Tywin wished that both Tygett and Gerion were as compliant as Kevan. Tywin’s brilliantly green eyes set themselves on the redheaded woman. Who was she to know such things? Make such comments? She was barely a lady and she figured she could say such things.

Of course, Tywin did not cry out in anger. He did not make a scene. His intense glare moved to Oberyn as he finally spoke in defense of himself. His voice lowered, “Need I remind you of who you’re speaking to, Prince Oberyn.” Or rather speaking of.

“No need, Lord Hand. I’m speaking with Lady Aemilia, of course.” Oberyn’s smirk was smug.

Tywin blinked. “Your sisters will remain here and you will return to Dorne, correct?” Though, Tywin did not pose it as a question. “I’m sure it would be quite upsetting to hear of something happening to them while you’re so far from them.” Of course, Tywin Lannister was not threatening to kill them. But he could easily make King’s Landing unbearable. And Tywin could tell that the three siblings were rather close.

“You wouldn’t do anything, Lord Tywin.” Oberyn laughed. “My sister is marrying the prince, need I remind you.”

“I’d never do anything.” Tywin spoke monotonously. He wouldn’t do anything, no. He’d never carry out any action himself. And any action carried out would never be tied back to him. “I need not be reminded, I'm aware that one sister is marrying the prince. And the other, the pretty bastard. She's marrying no one.” Tywin thought to remind him. The bastard sister would be nothing. A handmaiden, but still an illegitimate bastard. No one cared what happened to bastards in the rest of Westeros.

And Tywin only glanced at Aemilia. She was staying here as well. Sure, she was the Queen's handmaiden. But the Queen was a meek woman, the most she'd do was send Aemilia away.

 

[Lucyfer]

The tease of the siblings was enjoyable to behold, and Rhaegar mentally chastised himself for his thoughts of how the bastard seemed better, at times. More beautiful. More bold. Even if she was, his thoughts would harm Elia, which would harm Saige. He should not breathe life into them. He should not acknowledge them as he did, should not be playful with Saige and not Elia. Perhaps they were not noticing his preferences and behavior, because they did not know him yet, but he did notice.

He was going to be Elia’s husband. He should show her the respect he wish his own father showed to his own wife. They had been married against their will, but it was no excuse for his father’s behavior.

It was no excuse for his, nor for his thoughts. He should be better. He should not consider more, lest he put a rift between them that he did not want.

“I will be fine after such foods, Elia,” he dropped the title. He should be familiar. They were going to be married, after all. She seemed to notice, becoming startled as she looked his way, to see that calm and easy smile. He forced himself to then use it with Saige, “I am sure that Lady Saige has learned some tricks early in life for making sure her own mouth didn’t set itself aflame. Or you have, perhaps?”

Elia kept that smile on her lips, gentle and kind, “Yes. Usually milk, or white rice, will help, Prince Rhaegar.”

He gave a nod, “See? Then I shall be fine so long as one or the other are near at hand,” he assured her. “And there’s no more need for calling me ‘Prince Rhaegar’…I am to be your husband soon. We should be familiar, not as strangers.”

She managed a furtive nod, her cheeks still aflame. “We have a deal then, for when we visit Dorne,” Rhaegar said, looking briefly to Viserys who was, indeed, almost done with his plate. Plenty were eating hastily, and Rhaegar considered then he might want to snatch Aemilia away to actually open the festivities more. The musicians were playing, of course, but the cords were calm, not inviting. They encouraged feasting and talking, not dancing just yet, but others were starting to clear their plates.

“If you’ll excuse me but a moment, I need to show off,” he chuckled as he rose, setting a hand on Elia’s shoulder as he did so.

“Of course, ah…what are you going to do?”

“You’ll see,” he winked, and though he had scolded himself for it, when he lifted his gaze from Elia his eyes still fell upon Saige, as if it were meant for her as well. ‘To include her.’ He lied to himself, and turned away.


‘Hear me roar.’ It was the battle cry of the Lannisters, and Roger used to mock it, stating only a stupid lion announced his intentions to his prey. And yet, still, Roger had lost. Right then, of course, Aemilia didn’t consider that. She felt that anger burn again as Tywin lowered his roar to threaten the viper, who postured himself in his seat like a coiling snake.

Tywin’s threat wasn’t subtle. Not to Oberyn, nor to Aemilia, and she felt Oberyn shift almost violently besides her. “You—” Aemilia reached out a hand then, wrapped it tight around Oberyn’s wrist under the table so he wouldn’t rise, as his posture threatened to launch him up to do so. Hot-blooded, as always.

She spoke over his anger, “The Hand is only noting that your sister is in an obviously vulnerable position, nothing more,” Aemilia tried to hold Oberyn’s gaze then, “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her,” she said, as she squeezed Oberyn’s wrist before releasing it, “The Red Keep is a dangerous place, and Lord Lannister cannot be ignorant of how frequently accidents seem to happen around him.”

She turned to him with a smile, but it was not kind. It was cutting. Melara’s memory would always burn in her, drowned in a well. Slipped into it. As if she’d ever believe that.

She shouldn’t have said anything else, and yet, she did, not flinching under Tywin’s look or his threats at Saige. ‘Come play with a lion, Lannister.’ Her own voice lowered. “It is fortunate for us all that the ill luck which follows you, has not affected you personally.” Only those he cared for. Joanna. Tyrion. His friend, Aerys – going mad couldn’t be fun to watch.

Perhaps soon, Jaime and Cersei. “It would be a shame if you were to slip down all the stairs in the Tower of the Hand. The realms do need you.” Pretty words, but the threat was clear as day.

Accidents happened, and while poison may be her go to method, she wasn’t above just pushing him down some stairs, either. It’d probably be more convincing.

She saw that Rhaegar had risen, and saw his eyes move to her. It was like a gust of cold wind, and she seemed to realize briefly what she’d done, and she rose. She’d take the escape. “May the Crone continue to light your path, Lord Lannister.” Fuck the Seven.

But thank whatever god favored her then to give her Rhaegar as an escape, as she moved to join him with his encouraging look, and questioning smile.

 

[KyloGlenn]

Saige noticed when Rhaegar dropped the titles, smirked when he insisted Elia do the same. She also noticed she was still ‘Lady’ Saige, but she didn’t mind or take any offense. For one, she was not going to be his wife. She didn’t need to be familiar with him. And second, she was sure the title was kept up because otherwise, she’d just be Saige. Bastard Saige. And he’d so insisted she be called Lady Saige out of courtesy.

Rhaegar rose, stating he needed to show off, but Saige’s eyes moved to Rhaegar’s hand on Elia shoulder. Something she’d obviously tease Elia about. Saige’s eyes returned to Rhaegar as he winked at Elia, his eyes continuing to look at Saige herself. She briefly caught Rhaegar’s eyes as he looked at her. He really did have pretty eyes, same color but different in shade than the rest of his families.

Her eyes stayed on him even as he turned to leave. He really was a gorgeous man. Saige had seen a lot of men, handsome and not so. She hadn’t believed when she heard people say Rhaegar was quite possibly the most beautiful man in Westeros, or even the world. But she certainly believed it now. Words did him no justice.

She pulled her eyes from the silver-haired prince, turning to her sister. She placed her hand on Elia’s shoulder, “You’ll see,” Saige imitated Rhaegar’s voice as best she could, giving her sister an over exaggerated wink.

Elia was red, but she pushed her sister’s hand away. “I will throw your necklace into the spikes.” She threatened playfully, of course. She would never do such a thing.

Saige gasped, “You are cruel.”

Rhaella noticed the movement, her son rising from his seat. And she smiled ever so slightly, knowing her son would soon sing, along with Lady Aemilia. It would probably be the highlight of her night. She loved hearing Rhaegar sing, he’d always had a lovely voice.

Aerys, of course, couldn’t care less.


Meanwhile, Tywin found satisfaction in Oberyn Martell’s anger. He knew he struck a nerve with the bastard sister’s vulnerability. Which certainly was something he’d exploit if need be. In case the Dornish Prince needed a lesson in respect.

But it seemed as though the one who really needed to learn respect is Tybolt Hetherspoon’s bastard. Which was something that perplexed Tywin Lannister. He was under the impression the the fiery haired bastard had been raised by Tybolt, yet it did not seem like that.

Tywin’s gaze narrowed on her. On her false smile. A smile that she did not share with her father. He supposed the bastard looked more like whoever her mother was. And certainly must’ve had the personality.

Her words sounded sweet, but they were anything but. And they made the Lord’s blood boil. Who was she to be threatening him? If he didn’t know any better, he’d have wondered if she even knew who he was. But Tywin Lannister knew at the very least that he’d made a name for himself. For his family. One that arose fear. Usually. And Aemilia Hetherspoon?

She, too, was no one. Just as the other bastard.

Aemilia rose following her threats. Tywin saw Rhaegar out of the corner of his eye and realized they must be doing something. He figured Rhaegar would have something prepared for the feast, as it was the occasion of welcoming his new wife. But what Aemilia was doing, he had little clue. Nor did he care. Just as long as he was able to get his words out, for her to hear.

He didn’t reach to grab her as she stood, but he did speak as she went to make her escape. “You too are in a vulnerable position, Lady Aemilia,” He mocked the title, one she didn’t deserve. “You’re watching the other bastard, but who is watching you?”

 

[Lucyfer]

There it was – Aemilia couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction as Tywin thought to threaten her, and though she had to let him get the last word in, her thoughts followed her movements as she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a look back. ‘That’s the wonderful thing about bastards, Tywin. No one is watching us.’ Aemilia used to hate it. Right then, however, she loved it.

Besides, she had Pyke watching over her, too. Somewhere.

Tywin had no idea who she was, and it had shown in what little expression he made, when she returned his threat. She did hear Oberyn, though.

“Oh trust me, Lord Tywin,” and he picked up his glass of wine, “She does not need anyone to watch over her.” Not that Oberyn would say why. A poisoner shouldn’t be known. Oberyn would not have known if he hadn’t found it out by chance. He was pleased, though, that she had enough fire to threaten Tywin. It was stupid, perhaps, but…damned if he didn’t admire it a bit. Not to mention it was likely going to keep his attention off of Saige while he tried to puzzle out Aemilia.

He’d definitely be introducing them properly once he could.


Meanwhile, Elia let her gaze shift from her teasing sister to Rhaegar and Aemilia, who stepped down from the High Table.

Rhaegar felt the heat of his father’s gaze, but before Aerys could say a word, he stepped near the center. A gesture dismissed Aemilia towards the instruments, a gesture that the minstrels noted as she approached, and nodded to one to take their harp, sitting herself besides it.

The Dragon Prince addressed his father, formally, as if they weren’t related. “Your Grace,” he looked to his father, who seemed far from pleased. He may have joked with his mother over what he was doing, but with his father he could make no such comments. “If it pleases you, Lady Hetherspoon and myself would like to offer a break from the usual music to sing the last duet of a Dance with Dragons.” It was a hauntingly beautiful song, echoing and trailing, the voices weaving around each other.

He may have never practiced it with Aemilia, but the chords she played would set the tempo, and he had a feeling both of them could follow that without further guidance, or further hinting at motives in play.

Aerys scoffed, “The lady can sing Valyrian?”

“And speak it, Your Grace,” Aemilia answered, fluently in Valyrian. Rhaegar wasn’t sure if he should be worried then for her interruption. His mother hadn’t had a bold handmaiden in…well, he wasn’t sure he ever knew one.

Aerys frowned. A bastard that could speak Valyrian? A Hetherspoon that could speak Valyrian as if she was born to it? Before he could comment further, he heard his wife speak up from his side. “We would love to hear you both, Rhaegar,” she spoke familiarly, but her words would not then be overridden by Aerys.

Aerys grumbled, but didn’t take it back. Rhaegar quickly bowed his head, and moved over to join Aemilia, meeting her eye before giving a nod to let her have the harp, rather than steal it from her, or take up his own. She led then, fingers playing over the chords, and her voice was the first to lift in the notes. Wavering, breathy, without at all losing their strength.

He wove his own voice in after the first few notes, closing his eyes to focus on the melody of the harp and the subtle cues from his partner’s voice, as the room around him fell silent for their voices to be contained within it.

Both voices gained in strength, losing the breathy waver, losing the fear of the Doom in the last moments of resolve, the last promises to wait. Though Rhaegar wanted to smile for the song, for a matching partner at last, the emotions of the songs prevented such, as he took the pain of the male lead into himself and into his voice.

And Aemilia matched it, sorrow for sorrow.


Elia was indeed silent like many others when Rhaegar expressed his desire to sing, and it seemed Oberyn’s friend would be going to. She knew the woman had a love of music, though the knowledge was only held in passing, a comment or two she’d heard. It would be interesting to see if she could match Rhaegar.

Elia was pleasantly surprised to see that she could, and more, how beautifully Rhaegar could sing in Valyrian. His own tongue was as silver as his hair.

Elia couldn’t help but look to Saige as the last notes were sung out, a huge smile on her lips. She wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat. What would she say? That he was beautiful? That his voice was divine? That she had truly found a good man? In truth, she didn’t know the last one – it was a hope, but she didn’t know. ‘How could a man sing like that and not be good?’ Probably a frivolous requirement, but what kind of Gods would give a man such a voice and make him a monster?

So, instead, her grin just became a bit lopsided, and she giggled before she looked back, at a loss for words as other nobles applauded their future king, and the Lady Hetherspoon for the performance, some stirred to watery eyes.

Elia didn’t realize she was among them until she felt the hot liquid slip down her eyes, and then she distractedly wiped at it. “He’s amazing,” Elia breathed out then.

 

[KyloGlenn]

As if the feast hadn’t been irksome enough without Aemilia Hetherspoon and Oberyn Martell. The whole point of the event resurfaced Tywin Lannister’s failed plot to marry Cersei off. But that wasn’t what bothered Tywin anymore, he could easily marry his daughter off. What bothered him was the slight on his family’s name. By someone Tywin once considered a friend.

And it seemed as though others thought they slight Tywin as well. Something he’d make sure to remedy. But after all Tywin had done, the name he’d made for his family, it wasn’t something he should have to remedy any longer.

The lion ignored Oberyn, who must be simple if he believed that a woman, a bastard woman, did not need to be watched.

Tywin’s glare rested on Aemilia. Tybolt’s bastard was a mystery. Tywin had never seen her before then, which may not be strange. She was a bastard, it was understandable if Tybolt kept her out of sight of other lords and ladies. But no bastard was completely invisible. Yet, she was.

The bastard continued to speak out of turn, but what surprised Tywin was that Aemilia knew Valyrian. A bastard of the west knew Valyrian. Tywin’s glare couldn’t have intensified anymore at that point. Where had this woman come from, really?

Tywin was not interested in music. He tuned the sound out, his eyes resting on the red haired woman as he thought. He swished his wine in the cup, not drinking it. He was uninterested in the Dornish food and the wine. This whole feast was a waste of his time. He could be doing something much more productive. After all, he was the one ruling the realms.

Yet, he kept up his appearances.

The song ended, Tywin noted that. And he clapped, once. Lazily. Out of respect for the future king. And that was all.


Where Tywin was bored, Saige was enthralled.

Saige had heard a Dance with Dragons. She understood the Valyrian words, as she spoke many forms of Low Valyrian. Similar enough. She knew the story. But it had never been as beautiful or as heart wrenching as it was when Aemilia and Rhaegar sang it.

The two really were talented. Oberyn’s friend’s voice was gorgeous, but Saige found it hard to focus on anything but Rhaegar. He sang with the pain of the male, as if he were the man. As if he had been there.

Saige never believed that a perfect man existed. She’d met a lot of men in many parts of the world. And some had come close. But in that moment, Saige was wholly convinced that the only perfect man in the world had been found. And that man was Rhaegar Targaryen.

It wasn’t until the end of the song that Saige felt her eyes burn with tears. She blinked rapidly, forcing them away as she came back into reality. She wasn’t about to cry in public, in front of all these people. And she was surprised that a song she’d hear before had somehow brought her to tears. She gently shook her head, clapping along with the others as Elia breathed something next to her.

Saige could’ve come up with many things to tease Elia. Many inappropriate things. But she said none of them. “He is amazing. Unbelievably so. I don’t think he’s quite human.” She joked, but she genuinely wondered. Maybe he was a siren. Maybe he was someone’s god walking on land, amongst his people. And not once did her eyes leave the Dragon Prince.


And while Saige clapped, while everyone clapped, no one clapped as hard as Rhaegar’s mother. Even the Queen’s eyes welled with tears, from both of the singer’s voices. Aemilia was quite incredible, just as lovely as Rhaegar’s. Which Rhaella never thought possible.

Viserys clapped as well. Lazily. He didn’t care much for the song, as it told a tale but not one that he wanted to hear. The Dragon title was misleading. It lulled him to sleep more than it did anything else.

And there was one person who clapped less than Tywn Lannister. And that was the Mad King himself, who did not clap at all. Kings didn’t clap for such silly things. And his features displayed no enjoyment. No pride or pleasure in his son’s song. Aerys wouldn’t have liked it anyway, but he felt the song was tainted by the bastard’s voice.

 

[Lucyfer]

In the break out of applause from many, Aemilia did step from the harp, eyes glancing over the many. Rhaegar beamed and he did bow gracefully for his audience, though Aemilia’s knees wouldn’t bend. There was only a slight inclination of her head as she came alongside Rhaegar, and naught else, as she cast a smile up to Rhaella.

It let her see how Aerys did not applaud, nor did Tywin – at least not what she caught. His glare was rather fierce then, and her smile canted into a smirk at the sight of it. ‘Well, well.’ Rumor said he had thick skin. Rumors were wrong. His skin was as thin as she’d always suspected. He brushed nothing aside, and it seemed her hand was revealed.

At least, revealed enough for Tywin to realize she was a notable presence. Well, she never really cared much for going under the radar. It might make things easier in the long run. Tybolt would be pulling his hair out by now if he could see this…but Tybolt was the sensible one. She still had all the Reyne pride. “Where did you learn to sing like that?” Rhaegar asked, and her gaze returned to his as he’d straightened up, glee dancing in his eyes. “I’ve never met – is your father so good? Your mother?”

‘My father.’ Aemilia just shook her head, “No, I’m afraid no one in my family is that I know,” she said, both taking a moment as the applause started to die, “I learned here, and honed the skill in Braavos.”

“Braavos?”

“There’s a man there better than I,” she allowed. There was a memory of a voice there, a rumor of a voice there, better than hers. It was a lie, Aemilia believed that now. She did not know why anyone would lie of Lord Tarbeck, but…if he were alive, she would have found him by now. Lies made for good stories, though.

Rhaegar couldn’t wipe the smile from his lips, “You shall have to introduce me, one day,” he said, his hand reached to lightly touch her arm, “And we shall have to do this again,” not formally, gods forbid, but for fun. In Maegor’s Holdfast, on the streets of King’s Landing – having a partner in this matter would be interesting.

Aemilia offered another deep inclination of her head, “As I am able, your grace,” she wouldn’t mind it in the least. It may even help her to watch over Elia and Saige, as she knew Oberyn would want, especially now with Tywin being…well, a puffed up cat.


Rhaegar shifted then as the applause all died down at last, “I appreciate your audience,” he addressed all, “I shall let the minstrels resume. Dessert shall be served,” he noticed a few waiting with silver platters. They hadn’t dared to move while Rhaegar performed, “and then we may all enjoy each other’s company,” his eyes shifted to those more obviously from Dorne, alighting on the many faces with encouragement, hoping to meet many of them that night, before he moved to head back up to the High Table, to his side, as Aemilia moved to her own.

The two Dornish women had teary eyes.

Rhaegar always enjoyed knowing his music could move people to tears, could stir such emotions, and he tossed his mother an appreciative smile then for her enthusiasm as he slipped back into his seat. “Thank you both for your applause,” Rhaegar spoke, a bit humbly then, as he sat.

“Thank us?” Elia sounded surprised, “Rhaegar, we should be thanking you! Your voice is amazing – I have never – even Saige does not think you are quite human. And Aemilia! Oberyn should have brought her around more.” He’d kept his friend a secret far too long. Elia would chastise him for it later.

Rhaegar did feel his cheeks heating a bit. Once he was out of focus, some of his pride did turn to humility, a trait that many of the others seemed to think was good. “I am certain I’m human,” he said, “I do not think the dragon contributes at all to my voice – they weren’t known to be singers,” he chuckled, and then looked as one of the platters were brought to the High Table.

Lemon cakes. Elia looked delighted to see them, and asked, “Are these common here?” as she reached for one for herself.

“Yes,” Rhaegar said, nodding, “Is it common in Dorne as well?”

“Most citrus things are,” she confirmed.


Down with Oberyn, Aemilia returned to her own seat, and Oberyn was grinning broadly, “How did you become such fast friends with the prince, Aemi? Should my Elia be worried?” He teased, but it was interesting. Perhaps it was only music – she had a fast love of other minstrels. Still, mentioning it should bother Tywin, too.

Aemilia was becoming friends with the prince. That was a powerful ally, along the Queen. What did Tywin have, Aerys? And barely that.

“There is no need to worry, Oberyn,” Aemilia chuckled, “It’s only music, I swear.”

“Uh huh,” his eyes glanced down at one of the platters, and he rolled his eyes, “Please tell me there is going to be more than lemon cakes. Those are so…boring.” So common. Certainly Aerys’s court could do better than lemon cakes.

 

[KyloGlenn]

Elia spoke quickly once Rhaegar returned to the High Table, to them. Saige didn’t even manage to blurt out a thank you or a compliment of the like. But Elia seemed to do that for her, anyway. Saige smiled, amused at her sister’s excitement over Rhaegar and Aemilia’s performance. Elia was gushing and adorably so.

And Elia was right, Oberyn should have brought Aemilia around sooner. Saige was curious about the woman, as well. She spoke High Valyrian, sang and played music so beautifully, maintained a rather good friendship with her brother. Yet, Saige never met her. She supposed she now had many chances to speak with the Hetherspon, as they’d both be staying within the Red Keep for some time.

Rhaegar turned pink and between him and Elia, they were quite colorful.

Dessert came and Saige was slightly disappointed, yet she kept the smile on her face, albeit forced. To be polite, and for Elia.

Saige had consumed entirely too many citrus-y things growing up in Dorne. Citrus seemed to haunt her everywhere she went. Lemons, oranges, grapefruit. Both she and Elia smelled of citrus, their lotions and perfumes often scented as such. Saige understood that lemon cakes were popular, pleasing to most. Still, she expected something else. Like chocolate.

“If you like citrus, you’ll love Dorne.” Saige commented, a hint of a grumble in her tone as she served herself a cake. She didn’t hate lemon cakes, after all.

Elia seemed to relax more, growing comfortable in the presence of Rhaegar. Elia credited the wine, as well as having her sister by her side. “I think you’ll love Dorne. I know it’s just an idea right now, but I already have so many things in mind. I can’t wait to take him to the Water Gardens. My siblings and I played there a lot as children. But it’s fun for all ages!” Elia went from talking to Rhaegar, to Saige, and back to Rhaegar all in one breath. Saige had to giggle, pleased to see her sister relax.

“But enough about Dorne,” That was no longer Elia’s home. King’s Landing was. “What do you like to do here, Rhaegar?”


Everyone was easily entertained. By Rhaegar and Aemilia’s singing. By lemon cakes and each others company. The desserts were being quickly consumed, the treats not large. Of course, some went in for seconds. Meanwhile, Tywin Lannister went in for none. He cared little for the dessert or sweets in general. And he was most certainly not in the mood to enjoy anything.

All the guests hurried to consume their dessert so they could move on to most’s favorite part of feasts. When they had the chance to mingle and dance. Tywin looked forward to it if only for the reason that he could then slip out, spend the rest of his evening doing something of importance. No one paid any mind at that point, as formalities were done with. Everyone became too drunk to care.

There was a time when Tywin did partake in the festivities. Many years ago, only when his wife dragged him into it. He wouldn’t say he enjoyed it but Joanna certainly made it tolerable.

Those days were long dead.

And now Tywin Lannister was forced to listen to Oberyn and Aemilia’s conversation. Perhaps it should bother Tywin, and he did think on it for a brief second, but he dismissed it.

Tywin had known Prince Rhaegar since he was just a baby. Tywin Lannister had seen the boy grow up, Rhaegar had watched Tywin as he handle his duties as Hand and the unofficial handler of the Seven Kingdoms. Tywin wouldn’t be surprised if there were parts of himself that the young prince admired. Rhaegar respected Tywin, or at the very least knew the Lannister Lord was doing good for the realms.

A musical handmaiden was not going to have some sort of advantage on that front.

Oberyn Martell complained of the desserts and Tywin couldn’t help but comment, “Enough effort and cost has been put into this feast. The crown apologizes for the dessert not being exciting enough for you.” As always, Tywin’s tone was dry, about as uninterested as Oberyn was with the lemon cakes. Yet, he still spoke.

And Oberyn would continue to be pleased by his and Aemilia’s ability to get a reaction out of the Lord Hand.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘It’s far more than an idea.’ Rhaegar wanted to say, but he withheld it. It was more than an idea, but it was not planned. The date was not sketched out. He did not know when they would be going, or how he could manage to slip out to Dorne, but he intended to make it so. He would enjoy these Water Gardens that Elia spoke of, and he would certainly enjoy more citrus foods. They were an interesting mixture of tart and sweet, so far. He had no complaints about them, ever. Who didn’t like lemon cakes?

“Lemon cakes?” Viserys’s own annoyance came from his side, answering that question, and Rhaegar chuckled, but didn’t look over at his younger brother. “We had lemon cakes yesterday!”

They were popular here in King’s Landing, in the North, and in Dorne. Probably within all Seven Kingdoms. “Dorne sounds more lovely than before. At least there is a Water Garden. That should be some relief from the heat,” he had no idea if it would or wouldn’t be. He could imagine having such fun playing in a place like that, when he had time for such childishness.

She asked of here, and Rhaegar did know what he did for fun, “I like to sneak out in disguises and go play my harp,” he chuckled. “I also like to sneak out just to test the Kingsguard now and then. So far, Ser Dayne has surprised me on more than one occasion – he is a good man,” Dornish, too, with purple eyes. A trait of his family, supposedly.

“Otherwise I am spared little time for fun. I practice swordplay, horse riding – ah, that can be fun sometimes. I am at times able to leave King’s Landing and see places nearby for a night or two,” he noted. It was becoming more common. Are you able to ride, Elia?”

Elia gave a slight nod, “I can…a bit. Not for very long,” she usually was in a palanquin or a litter, rather than upon a horse, but all Dornish women learned how to ride horses. She could do that much, even if she could not be a fighter, not even with a bow. “But I would enjoy journeying around with you on such.”

He gave a nod, “There is also a large library here. When I was younger, I would spend almost all day in there,” before he realized he should train himself holistically. Mind and body, not only his mind. He needed to fight. He needed to be prepared to lead his people in all situations, be it war, or economic strife.

“I think I will like that. Do you have a suggestion of where to begin?”

Rhaegar laughed a bit, “There are too many, and I have not even read them all yet.” He finished off the lemon cake he had then, and noticed others starting to move about. Only slight movements. Many waited for the High Table to officially move, for them to become more adventurous, and Rhaegar knew it would hardly be his father, or his mother, that opened them to such. His mother would not move without Aerys’s permission, or without the opportunity arising.

“Do you dance, Lady Elia?” He asked her then, intending to start to break things up and give others the freedom to move. The lemon cakes were easy to grab and easy to munch on. They were always gone quickly.


Aemilia took a lemon cake in spite of Oberyn’s complaint, or perhaps because of it, as Tywin offered a stiff answer for the disappointment. It was all Aemilia and Oberyn could do not to smile to broadly, or laugh, and Oberyn was rather amused that they seemed to have this in common – bothering the Lord Hand. He knew there was a slight grudge there, based on Melara, but he hadn’t expected her to quite enjoy it as much as he did.

“Well, the Crown can make it up to me next time, for Elia’s wedding,” Oberyn said as he snatched a lemon cake. “Maybe chocolates. Everyone loves chocolates. I’m sure the Crown can afford that, can’t they?” Obviously he didn’t mean the Crown. Tywin was apologizing on behalf of the Crown though, so he could bear the message. Or get chocolates next time. He probably wouldn’t out of spite, though.

Oh well.

Oberyn would just have to have something impressive brought to outdo the Crown and put them to shame. He’d think on it, there were plenty of ways to impress the nobility and smallfolk alike. He’d see it done.

The music was starting to lift a bit higher as people below started to move a bit – not much, but some, and Oberyn noted it, eager to get up and move about himself, but he figured protocol meant he had to wait for someone royal to do it first, “Aemilia, will you honor me with the first dance?” He asked, figuring he may as well steal a moment to speak of Saige and this pettiness towards Tywin.

“Of course,” Aemilia had no arguments against it, except the unsaid. ‘Unless it’s the Rains.’ But Oberyn wouldn’t dance to that, anyway.

“Good! Then perhaps the Lord Hand?” Oberyn jested, knowing full well Tywin would not, ever, dance with another man. His image would be tarnished. He probably didn’t dance at all. How had Joanna lived with him?

 

[KyloGlenn]

“We had lemon cakes yesterday, and you’ll have them again. It’s the polite thing to do, love.” Rhaella quieted her son as he complained of the lemon cakes. She didn’t blame him, they did have lemon cakes quite often. A young child would get bored often. But lemon cakes were the safest bet to please everyone. Or almost everyone. Rhaella would be able to ask Elia what sort of things she liked for the wedding.

Viserys whined, pouting in his seat. He wanted something other than lemon cakes.

Aerys grumbled next to her, “He’s my son, a prince. He doesn’t have to be polite. Let the boy do what he wants.” That quieted Rhaella. Viserys gave a smug smile, at first, but it fell when he saw his mother bow her head, her attention on the stupid lemon cakes.



Saige listened to Elia and Rhaegar talk, remaining silent to allow the two to get to know each other. Still, she listened and found herself very amused. Rhaegar in disguise, playing the harp among the smallfolk was something she’d like to see one day. She’d have to venture out on her own one of these nights, to see King’s Landing. Get drunk in a tavern. Of course, she’d have a much easier time than Rhaegar. She’d have no Kingsguard to stop her and she was fairly certain no one would have any desire to kill her.

Arthur Dayne was brought up, apparently a good man. Both Elia and Saige knew his sisters but were acquainted better with the violet-eyed beauty that was Ashara, as they were closer in age. She was a lovely woman, and Saige didn’t find it hard to believe that Arthur too was a good man. Perhaps it ran in the family.

Elia happily observed Rhaegar, Saige could tell. Elia took to him easily. The man was charming, Saige would give him that.

He asked if Elia could ride, and she could. Not for long. Saige’s mind drifted to her own horse, Ysa. A sand steed she left behind. The horse wouldn’t have a very fun life in King’s Landing, Saige knew. She wouldn’t be able to run as she could in Dorne as Saige wouldn’t find much of a chance to ride her. Doran promised she’d be taken care of, Oberyn promising to look after her whenever he was in Dorne. Swords and horse riding was certainly more Saige’s style.

Books were Elia’s. Elia read a lot, as her health didn’t permit much else. But dancing, dancing her health permitted. She’d will it to. Wellness be damned, she was dancing with Rhaegar. “I do,” she chirped, nodding. “I love to dance.” Though she knew all the lady-like dancing, most of it was dancing with her sister who tried to teach Elia how to dance with her hips. Or it was with Oberyn and then it was simply silly, fun.

Maybe it would have been the polite thing to wait for Rhaegar to offer her his arm, but Elia was too elated for that. She took Rhaegar’s hand in her own, so pale in comparison. She was mesmerized by it for a brief moment. But then she stood, dragging the Targaryen prince with her. “I have all sorts of moves I can show you.” Elia shot a wink at her sister as she passed her.


“Mom, I’m going to go see Lady Saige.” Viserys declared, his father’s words encouraging him. But that was shot down when his mother gave him a scolding look, a look only a mother could give. “Mom, may I go see Lady Saige?”

“If she’s done eating, you may ask her if she wants your company.”


Oberyn didn’t know when to stop talking, Tywin decided.

He went on to put emphasis on the word ‘crown’. He went on to talk about desserts for Elia’s wedding, which made Tywin groan internally. He knew he’d likely be dealing with Rhaella planning that. Weddings did tend to be expensive. But Tywin could make the Crown afford chocolate if he wanted it to. But he didn’t. He was likely going to make sure that there was no chocolate for the wedding, just to spite Oberyn.

He was petty like that.

And Oberyn asked Aemilia to dance, which gave Tywin relief. Finally, he’d be rid of the children. But it didn’t come soon enough, as Oberyn asked Tywin to dance afterward. Tywin knew it was in jest, but nevertheless, he gave Oberyn a pointed look, nothing as burning as the glare he’d given the bastard earlier, “No.” He’d humor the Prince of Dorne with a last response.

Tywin was merely annoyed with Oberyn Martell, he found himself only growling at the Hetherspoon woman. A bastard who dared to threaten a lion.

Oberyn raised a single smile, a smirk playing at his lips, “Suit yourself, Lord Tywin.” Oberyn gave a wink to the Hand, a final teasing gesture, before he led his green-eyed companion away, just as Elia led her prince from the High Table. The music shifted then, the minstrels playing music more fit for dancing than background songs, the High Table movement signaling the beginning of the real festivities.

It took little time at all for the other guests to find someone to dance with and join in the fun. Tywin would wait until everyone was preoccupied to make his escape. The only ones that would notice would be Aerys and Rhaella, and Tywin knew Aerys wouldn’t care. He’d be relieved if anything.

Oberyn was quick to pull Aemilia close to him, close enough for people to question if there was anything there. There never was between the two, but Oberyn wouldn’t complain if there was. Aemilia was quite the match for him, he’d say. Blazing hair, eyes like wildfire. Educated in poison just as he. But they were simple friends. “I believe you angered the kitty cat more than I, Lady Aemilia. I’m surprised,” not by her ability to run her mouth, but rather that she did it to Tywin Lannister and found it so amusing.

 

[Lucyfer]

Rhaegar managed not to laugh at Elia’s enthusiasm, though his smile did brighten as she eagerly reached for his arm. Apparently it was true that she enjoyed dancing, and so he did not at all hesitate from there to lead her on towards the floor, noting that it seemed Oberyn was just as enthused, bringing along Lady Hetherspoon. ‘An interesting group.’ Rhaegar quietly determined, one that was certainly a curiosity to King’s Landing. For a bastard, she was doing rather well for herself.

Better than most bastards would ever dream.

He wondered what Saige dreamed of, even as he moved his arms around Elia. He shouldn’t wonder about that – instead, he asked, “Does the enjoyment of dancing run in your family?” As his hand found a polite place upon her back, not too low. The song was perhaps one made for a bit more than just swaying, but he wanted to converse, at least a moment.

Elia was still beaming, and she gave a few hurried nods. Oberyn or Saige may have said something about how the Dornish were so hot-blooded, that it was a Dornish trait instead, not just the Martells, but the dancing they did wasn’t usually the proper sort. “Is this how you dance to this sort of song here in King’s Landing?” She was able to tease a bit. Perhaps the wine had helped.

“Well…I wanted to talk, but if my lady wishes….” Others were moving then to dance along with the melody as it started to gain energy. His eyes darted up to the High Table, seeing Saige and Viserys – Viserys away from his father, Tywin left to brood, and his mother…he wished then he could pull her away. He supposed any unorthodox action may rile his father, but he wanted to have fun. He’d learned some rather unorthodox things while in disguise among the smallfolk, “We can dance otherwise.”

“Good!” A giggle. “I wanted to dance, we can talk more later!” And Rhaegar was almost immediately pulled in by her energy, almost lost his lead, but he quickly took it back and was actually pleasantly surprised with Elia’s knowledge of dance, as well as her energy and enthusiasm for it. He hoped then, that King’s Landing may agree with her – that she may find more energy for much else, like longer rides upon horseback, or other adventures as they came to his mind, other whims.

That she wouldn’t simply get sick after this and he’d be to blame.


Not far from them, Oberyn and Aemilia danced, talk and moves mixing in a language they both knew, taking advantage of moments of closeness, and moments of parting, both. Aemilia was drawn in close, and though so many women would blush or giggle at it, to her, dance was still a language – nothing to fluster over.

Especially not with Oberyn – he’d love that too much. “Are you truly?” Aemilia found it amusing that he was surprised, though she did expect it. “I’m not a fan of his.”

“Oh, I know.” It wasn’t well hidden in Oberyn’s presence. Melara, he knew of that incident, but even before, he had seen it. “Still, you have to stay with the cat. I don’t.”

“All the more reason to take advantage of your presence to tease him, no?” She was turned away, their steps turning a bit more lively then. Both of them were show-offs, and that wasn’t about to change. Besides, it seemed to encourage Elia and Rhaegar to actually dance, and not just sway – not to mention other people started to take advantage of others out dancing.

And her dance was flames around her feet, which she could enthrall herself with. She loved the movement of the skirt – and she could remember Ellyn’s skirts, gorgeous things with so many colors…so many people around, dancing, music high in the air. This wasn’t like the streets of Braavos, nor Dorne.

She was drawn back in, with the question at her ear, “What are you really doing here, Aemi?”

“Serving Queen Rhaella,” came the easy answer. A truth, but not the truth. As she was able to look at Oberyn, his lips no longer so near her ear, to say, “And that’s all.” It wasn’t. He knew it, even if he knew not what, he knew. The cover of music and closeness did nothing to ease her into speaking, it seemed.

He’d always wondered about the poison. People who knew it like her, wanted to use it for something – it wasn’t a casual interest she had. He used it – he won battles with it. If he ever lost a battle, he was still making sure he won in the end, when his opponent died, writhing in pain.

Again they parted a bit, and again, they were brought back, “Now, don’t you want to dance with a pretty man tonight?” Aemilia teased before Oberyn could get a word in, glancing towards Elia and Rhaegar, “Or perhaps, intimidate a pretty man?” He may not get Tywin, but it wouldn’t be too difficult to cut in, let Oberyn have his own words with Rhaegar and get a measure of him, if he hadn’t already – and Aemilia could meet Elia. “I know a dragon's not as soft as a golden kitty, but….”


Viserys did not care about dancing. When his mother seemed to give him her permission, he left his chair and went over to the bastard before some stupid man could ask her to dance. In fact, he saw someone eying her, but as he climbed into the chair that Elia once occupied, he shot them a glare over the table before he lifted his eyes to Saige. “Lady Saige,” had to be polite, “Is it okay if I…share your company?” That was an odd way of saying it, but his mom told him to ask about company.

He didn’t really wait all that long before he forgot his manners again, not waiting for her answer before reaching for her arm, “I want to know more about dragons!” He insisted, “Lady Aemilia told me of ice dragons, and a dragon in the stars!” But now she was dancing, and he couldn’t talk to her while she was dancing.

He didn’t want to go out on that floor. Someone had stepped on him before, and the people there were rude. Drunk, and rude. He didn’t like them. They always teased him and tried to get him to dance with them. He had to learn…one day…or that’s what Rhaegar said. He didn’t want to, though. It looked boring. “I want to see the star dragon! The…conste…consterr…,” he had the word earlier.

Now it was gone.

His expression faltered in his forgetfulness, anger towards himself appearing at his own forgetfulness. It was such a long word, though! Star dragon should be obvious though, right? He should ask…, “Would you take me to see the star dragon, lady Saige?” Nice. He was behaving. ‘Wait.’

He realized then he was not completely behaving. He drew his hand back quickly, as if that made up for reaching to grab Saige’s earlier.

 

[KyloGlenn]

“I know you’re trying to change the subject, Aemi.” Oberyn sang as they parted once more. He pulled her back, playfully spinning her before pulling her close again. “But fine, don’t tell me.” He knew there was more to this. He supposed all he wished for was for her to be cautious. Oberyn had been to a lot of dangerous places, as he knew Aemilia had to have been as well. But King’s Landing was surely the most dangerous he knew of.

Oberyn glanced at his sister and her fiancé. Elia was smiling, energetic. It made Oberyn smile. “I’m most definitely going to dance with a pretty man tonight.” Perhaps Rhaegar, perhaps not. His eyes returned to Aemilia’s. “I’m not scared of any dragon. I have plenty of time to intimidate a pretty man, however. I’ll let my sister tire herself out with him before I intrude.” Elia didn’t often get a chance to move around like this.

And Oberyn could find plenty of men to occupy himself with until then.

He turned serious then. “You said you’d look after Saige. I appreciate that.” Maybe it was only said in the moment, but he still appreciated that. “Saige can take care of herself well enough, and she can keep an eye on Elia.” Oberyn had made sure that Saige could protect herself and by extension, Elia. “But she has no idea what being a bastard in the rest of Westeros is like.” And for that, Oberyn worried.

It was no problem in Dorne or in Essos, but everyone else seemed to hate bastards. Aemilia knew what it was like to be a bastard here, growing up in the rest. Though she wasn’t exactly the typical head down bastard. “If you look out for Saige, she’ll look out for you.” Oberyn thought to mention. Maybe Aemilia would need Saige at some point. During whatever her purpose here was.

As it wasn’t just to serve Rhaella.

“I believe the two of you—“ Oberyn searched for his sister then, only to not find her. His eyebrows furrowed, but he figured she must have run off with some man to dance. Or more. He returned his gaze to Aemi. “—will get along wonderfully.” He hoped, anyway. “Both my sisters are lovely. I’m sure you’ll make fast friends with Elia, as well.” Elia was so sweet and witty, she made quick friends with everyone.



Saige had gone as far as making eye contact with a man before Viserys interrupted that. He wasn’t extraordinarily good looking by any means, but he was a man that could entertain her for a hot moment. But maybe Viserys had saved her from wasting her time. She was almost certain she’d get more entertainment from the toddler than she would any man.

She was already grinning as soon as he opened his mouth to ask if he could share her company.

Although he didn’t allow her a chance to answer.

He went on about an ice dragon, a star dragon. She knew the stories and knew which constellation he was speaking of. He was trying so hard to be polite, she could tell. And she knew she had to reward his behavior. He was simply a curious child. “I’d be honored to show you the constellation, Your Grace. I’m surprised someone your age knows such a word.” He hadn’t said it, it was a big word after all. But he knew what it was.

Saige stood then, grabbing the youngest prince’s hand and helped him off the chair. “Let’s find someplace where we can see the stars.” A balcony or something.

She wasted little time in pulling Viserys along and making sure neither of them were sucked into the dance floor by all the people. She could tell that Viserys didn’t like being around them. “Do you have more stories, Lady Saige?” He questioned, looking up at the woman as she led him out of the throne room.

Saige hummed. “I do. It might be a little scary,” Saige was quickly pulling ideas from her own experiences, one popping into her head. The time she passed through Qohor. Viserys’s hand tightened around her own, simply staring up at her. “I spent some time in Qohor. They have some lovely merchandise there.” A child wouldn’t care about that, though. “You know that the people of Qohor make sacrifices, right? Well, I came across an old woman during my time there. And she told me the secret to hatching dragon eggs.”

“Dragon eggs?” Viserys questioned excitedly.

“Mhm. She told me that dragons were born of fire and blood. That I’d need to know that one day. Maybe so I could tell it to you.” Saige heavily embellished the story, though still based on the truth. She had been in Qohor, she had met a strange old woman. The words weren’t exactly hers, however.

“Ah, here we are!” They finally stumbled across a balcony and Saige moved then to pick an awed Viserys up. “Can you find the blue star? That’s the one that will take you straight North. You could follow it all the way to the wall.” She wasn’t sure if it was actually a dragon’s eye, but it did offer directions.

 

[Lucyfer]

Aemilia absolutely was trying to change the subject, and she smiled as Oberyn sang the accusation, not hiding it at all then. It wasn’t hidden in her actions, anyway, in looking to part from Oberyn or bring others into their group. “I’ll tell you when it’s over.” She offered that, and only that.

Oberyn didn’t part her company, but spoke then, thanking her for her words, and she managed not to act as if it was nothing. It wasn’t – but Oberyn had little idea how dear Aemilia held friendship and loyalty. Those who had helped her, would never be forgotten when she rose. “Even if I came to loathe Elia and Saige – which I doubt I will – I wouldn’t forsake them. They’re important to you. That’s all that matters.”

Oberyn did smile. It didn’t turn playful, but remained sincere as the song came to its end, and he took her into a deep dip, dropping so his forehead could press to hers, “I am eternally grateful, Aemi,” he said, for he didn’t doubt the promise of Aemilia’s own words.

They righted quick enough as the musicians moved into another song. Elia now looked a bit out of breath, but bright. Bright eyes, bright cheeks – certainly she’d tire soon, but Oberyn wouldn’t go to disturb them just yet. “Well, I’ll have to introduce you properly later to them both.”

Aemilia had cast her own gaze around, and noticed that Viserys also seemed to be missing. And that Aerys had risen and stalked off from the High Table, without Rhaella for the time being. He seemed to go instead to one of the Kingsguard, and he seemed rather irritated. Though, Aemilia noticed not far from said Kingsguard was someone she didn’t want to see. Oberyn noticed her distraction. “Ah, Ser Pyke. I saw him earlier. I never thought I’d see him in gold but he pulls that off rather better than iron, no?”

“No,” Aemilia denied, not giving gold any credit as she tilted her head quickly, a gesture for Pyke to move aside to join her. She wasn’t going to get near the irate king and his kingsguard. Pyke did, easing his way away while Aerys was fully engaged with the man in white, “If you’ll excuse me, Oberyn.”

“Of course,” he grinned a bit, but didn’t follow after her as she moved to close the distance once Pyke went to steal a goblet of wine from a serving girl, blending near a crowd of other nobles as any other guard might, along the wall, simply observing.

Until Aemilia joined, leaning along the wall with him. “Didn’t I ever tell you I used to be a Gold Cloak?” He asked before she could get a word out.

“No.”

“I was. I wanted to do something with this knightly title, after all.” Aemilia didn’t seem pleased, though. He knew why. He didn’t comment on it. She would get herself killed without him. “Aerys is upset that the kingsguard let Viserys wander off unwatched.”

“Oh dear god.” Aemilia complained.

“Gods.” Pyke jokingly corrected.

Aemilia just gave him an annoyed look. She could imagine that Viserys would have wanted to go outside somewhere, to follow up on the story she had offered. She would need to find him before Aerys did, no doubt, and perhaps find a way to convince Aerys that Viserys had never left. Tricky, but not impossible if she was fast.

~***~

Viserys’s eyes were gleaming with the thought that Saige had been told how to hatch dragon eggs, and it had everything to do with his house words. Fire and Blood! Of course they were the key, and he hadn’t even known it. Now all he needed was a dragon egg. Wasn’t there one in Dragonstone? He thought there was. He wasn’t sure. He’d never seen one. How was he supposed to make it work, though?

‘Sacrifices!’ Why else would the bastard mention it? A burnt offering, like the stupid candles people lit in the Sept of Baelor, only this would be a real offering, and it would bring real results – a dragon. He just had to get an egg. How hard could it be? He was a Targaryen. Certainly his mother or father knew where they were, and he’d hatch them!

He’d be a dragonrider like his ancestors, not Rhaegar.

As they came outside and onto a balcony, he started to look up, only to let out a startled gasp as he was picked up without much warning. He squirmed a moment, thinking to demand that he be put down, but then his eyes settled on the sky and he realized he liked the height and all it afford him. He was told to find the blue star, and he squinted as he turned his head, looking for it, until finally, his eyes landed upon it.

It did stand out from the rest, but not without looking.

“There!” He pointed, hand and finger extended as far as he could make them go. “It’s there! Right? So that’s the eye of the ice dragon?” Aemilia had said something about them having glowing blue eyes, so the star was actually an eye! A dragon’s eye! He became giddy as he thought of it, squirming more than he meant as he both wanted to get closer and knew not how. “Where does it end? How can you tell it’s shape?”

To him there was only a mess of stars around the blue one. He didn’t see the shape of a dragon, but he desperately wanted to. He kept staring at the blue star as if it might give up the secret, rather than look to Saige for an answer. He wanted only to see the dragon’s shape.

 

[KyloGlenn]

Aemilia and Oberyn parted ways and the man moved then to find a new partner. Instead of finding a beautiful man, as he and Aemilia briefly spoke of, he went to find his other sister. He knew Saige was no longer at the High Table, so he figured she found a partner of her own. Which he didn’t mind interrupting, Saige could easily find another partner or more chances to dance with someone.

Only problem was, he couldn’t find her. He searched through the crowds of people, thinking Saige would stand out. And maybe if she was there, she would have. Oberyn wasn’t completely worried. Saige could in fact take care of herself. But she wasn’t in Essos or Dorne, she was in a new place that didn’t treat her the same as in familiar territory. He didn’t want her getting in trouble after not even a day.

Oberyn found himself back where he’d started, near Elia and her prince. Oberyn noted then, two of the Kingsguard seemed to be sweeping through the crowd of nobles and the like, looking for something. Or someone, but Oberyn knew it not to be Saige.

As the song ended, briefly pausing before quickly flowing into another song, Elia had to take a break. She was out of breath. Pausing didn’t dampen her mood, as when Oberyn approached, she clearly had a bright smile on her face. She was definitely having fun and it warmed Oberyn to see his sister in such a state. As Oberyn approached them, he spoke. “Excuse me, Your Grace,” Oberyn spoke to Rhaegar as he joined them, his hand finding its way to his sisters back. “You two look to be having fun.” He commented, smirking.

Elia nodded enthusiastically, glancing to Rhaegar. There wasn’t much talking, but just having him around, a partner to dance with was fun. “I’ll let you two continue, but first.” Oberyn turned towards Elia, voice a bit quieter. “Have you seen Saige?” Perhaps she saw her at a glance.

Elia shook her head, “Maybe she went off with someone?” She suggested, her own voice lowering. Elia figured that Saige’s activities wouldn’t be appropriate for Rhaegar to hear.

“Already? She’s doing better than me.” Oberyn joked before gently squeezing Elia. Oberyn looked to Elia’s partner. “You should think about saving me a dance, Prince Rhaegar.” Oberyn winked before fleeing.

“Oberyn!” Elia complained. Her brother was so embarrassing.

-

Aemilia wasn’t the only one to notice Aerys’s irritation. Tywin sat next to the King as he grew upset, knowing that it was over the fact of Viserys no longer sat at the High Table. Aerys seemed to blame Rhaella for not keeping an eye on their son, but he did nothing to harm the woman at that moment, thankfully. Tywin refrained from rolling his eyes as Aerys rose from the table.

Tywin thought to monitor the situation, hopefully to prevent Aerys making a scene in front of so many people, at such an event. Tywin grew bored of having to deal with damage control. Though, he wasn’t sure what the point was anymore, as the public had already been exposed to Aerys’s behavior, and would be more and more.

The Golden Lion’s eyes swept briefly over the mess of people, searching for a mop of white hair low to the ground. Tywin hoped he could simply point the child out and put an end to this, but no such thing would happen. The youngest prince was nowhere to be found. Not in the throne room, anyway. Perhaps Tywin cared little for Viserys, an Aerys in the making, but he was still the prince.

When the Kingsguard was clearly failing to find the prince within the room, Aerys grew from irritated to irate. “I’ll find him myself,” Aerys snapped to no one in particular, stalking off. Guests parted to clear a path for Aerys, not wanting to get in the way of the Mad King. Aerys wasn’t positive in where to begin, not that he really thought of anything other than stalking through the halls aimlessly to look for Viserys. In truth, the King knew little of his son and his interests, so had no clue what might draw the three-year-old’s attention.

Tywin stood then. He’d go about this with more order. Instead of marching about aimlessly, if the prince was truly missing, they’d go about this quietly in an organized fashion. So Tywin would instruct only a few pairs to search for Viserys in different parts of the Red Keep. Surely Viserys hadn’t gotten far if he wandered off on his own, as kids do.

-

Viserys squirmed in Saige’s arms when she picked him up, initially not liking it. But he soon settled, his attention set on finding the blue star. Saige grinned at how easily Viserys are distracted by the ‘dragon’. She found herself looking at little Viserys’s face as he looked up the sky, his expression and eyes so full of wonder and awe. He may have not had any manners, but the toddler was still cute.

He squirmed some more, but this time it was to get a better look at the stars. Saige’s grip on him tightened ever so slightly, to prevent him falling from her arms. They were on a balcony and she didn’t want to drop him.

He was so excited by the star and Saige was reminded that despite how smart he seemed, or was, he was still just a kid. “Mhm,” she confirmed that it was in fact the right star. He asked where the body was, and Saige herself had to figure it out. All she ever saw was the star, in truth. So she squinted her eyes to try and form a dragon. “So, you have the eye right? And if you follow around the eye, you’ll find the face.” Saige gripped onto Viserys with one arm, and used her other to point out the shape of the stars.

“And then you follow the head past the eye…” Saige moved her finger, connecting the stars in her mind. “Do you see it? There’s the wings!” She figured Viserys would find the shape of wings to be the coolest part.

“Did Lady Aemilia tell you that the stories say that ice dragons grew as big as mountains? Bigger than fire breathing dragons.” Saige didn’t mind engaging with the child.

She decided she didn’t mind coming up with stories to tell the prince. It pleased him and she liked coming up with creative bits, adding onto her own experiences. She loved sharing the regular stories with Elia and Oberyn and whoever wanted to hear, really.

 

[Lucyfer]

Rhaegar politely stepped back when Oberyn approached them, giving space. A brother was still a brother, and Rhaegar expected that no matter how calm the Dornish man seemed, how relaxed and jubilant he was, there were still some boundaries that ought not to be crossed in his presence, and Rhaegar didn’t want to push any limits and end up with a spear through his face. That would not be ideal.

Still, he wasn’t so far back that he didn’t hear, though the two speaking lowly seemed to think he couldn’t. ‘Saige is gone?’ Perhaps it was all his training with music that allowed him to pick up individual sounds over the noisy din of the Great Hall. Others may not have been able to make out the cadence of their words in the mess of sounds, but he could.

His eyes scanned the crowd, but there was no sight of her.

Aerys, however, looked pissed. He shot a glance towards the High Table to see his mother, worried. Tywin, annoyed. And Viserys, gone…just like Saige. ‘Oh no.’ His mind linked it. It made no sense, not really, except that he knew his brother liked dragons, and Saige spoke of dragons.

Simple logic was always the sort that was overlooked. Rhaegar was learning to follow it with his brother.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Oberyn addressed him, mentioning he should save him a dance. His face screwed up at that, “What?” He said aloud, as Elia shouted after Oberyn for it. He was confused, looked to Elia, “Is that normal in Dorne? Men dancing with men?”

“Not half as normal as Oberyn would like,” she muttered, the embarrassment adding a tint of bitterness to the words, before she realized what she was saying and how she was saying it. She blushed, “Oh! Um. Well. It isn’t abnormal but…never mind him!” She put on that beatific smile again.

“I heard…Saige is missing?” Rhaegar confirmed, and the smile deflated a bit.

“Yes…I’m sure she’s all right.” Though Elia followed Rhaegar’s eyes as it moved from her, to the men in white cloaks who looked hastened. Fretting. “I’m sure she’s all right….” She repeated, to convince herself.

Rhaegar set a hand on her shoulder then, “I’ll go find her,” he said, figuring he should hurry. If she was with Viserys, if his father was upset, he really didn’t have much time to lose.

~***~

Aemilia was ahead of Rhaegar on that matter. She pulled Pyke from the wall and spoke to him of Viserys and the constellation. Obviously, the dragon-child hadn’t gone outside through the front door, so that meant he had found some view outside.

Pyke considered it, and did take the lead, moving along a hall of guest rooms that was near to the Throne Room, opening doors, until they both heard the voice of Viserys as he made a declaration. They exchanged a look, and Aemilia hastened to the door where the victorious shriek came from and gave a nod to Pyke to stay outside, to guard it as best he could, before she slipped in.

And Pyke did stay.

Up until he heard steps, and realized the voice he heard was Aerys. ‘Nope.’ He was noping the fuck out of that, but not far. He stepped into the room next door, and mentally cursed as he heard Aerys’s steps stop. He must have heard the door open and shut. He may have passed by without incident otherwise, but no, now Pyke made it obvious that something was going on over here.

He glanced to see if this room was connected, and to his disappointed, noted that it was not connected to the one Aemilia was in. ‘Damn it.’ He settled for leaning on the wall, and straining to hear, hoping that Aerys would just go on.

Did he? No. Pyke heard him open a door, find nothing inside, and slam it shut before moving onto another. ‘Move, Aemilia, move.’

~***~

Viserys’s eyes followed the gesture of Saige’s arm, trying to see how she was connecting the stars with it. He squinted, looking around the eye to try and make out the shape of the head, but it was quite difficult to do so. He followed the finger as it pointed down, trying to draw the shape of the wing. “I don’t see it!” He complained, still trying to see more, trying to make sense of the mass of dots in the sky.

“There’s just a bunch of dot, and—” he cut himself off. He saw it then. The dots around the eye were the head, there were no dots between the eye and the shape of the head, it did just form the head.

Once he saw that, the rest of it became clearer. “I SEE IT!” He practically shrieked it, giddy all over again, “I see it, I see it, Saige!” Lady forgotten. Bastard forgotten. She was like a close friend then who showed him a dragon, he could be familiar with her, right? Or maybe he was just too excited.

He heard the question, and started to answer, “Lady Aemilia said that the dragons were as long as rivers, said that a dragon melted to become a river in the North.” Then he saw the door open, and he twisted his head around as best he could. In stepped his other favorite bastard. “Lady Aemilia! I saw the dragon! I saw it! Saige showed it to me,”

Aemilia gave Saige a smile, “Thank you. I was planning to show him later, as well,” she gave a nod, “We need to return to the feast now, my prince.”

“But it’s so boring!” He whined again, “This is much more exciting.”

“Mm,” Aemilia agreed, “but you were supposed to stay. You’re not behaving,” she chastised, just a little, “if you don’t behave, I’m not going to be allowed to tell you the story of Nagga, my knight’s favorite dragon.”

“Nagga?” His eyes lit up, but before he asked for more, he realized she said she wouldn’t tell him. He looked up pleadingly at Saige, “Tell me about Nagga!”

Before an answer may part her lips, though, a door slammed shut nearby, causing Aemilia to jolt. ‘Shit.’ She gave Saige an urgent look and reached out her hand, not for Saige, but for Viserys. She had to put him down, then. Holding him aloft over a balcony was absolutely not going to look good for anyone in that room.

“VISERYS!” Aerys’s voice snapped through the hall as another door slammed shut.

 

[KyloGlenn]

Tywin managed to bring some order to Viserys’s search in a short period of time, quickly and efficiently. The Kingsguard moved quickly, of course, but no one seemed to care or notice. Though, Tywin did spot Rhaegar part from his fiancee and move to follow the Kingsguard out the door. Tywin assumed he was going after his father. So, Tywin moved quickly to follow after the oldest prince.

While Elia moved to find her brother again. Something was wrong, Saige hadn’t just run off with a man like she had thought. Though, Elia still hoped that it was the case and it was just some coincidence. But once she spotted the yellow of her brother’s clothes, grabbing his arm, she didn’t stop. Instead, she pulled him along back to the High Table. To the clearly concerned Queen.

Tywin found it easy to catch up with Rhaegar. Crowds parted for him just as fast as they did the king. There was something so great about fear. It made people so obedient. Compliant. Most people, anyway.

And once he was free of the dancing crowd, there was no one in the halls. Tywin’s legs moved quick to catch up with the silver-haired prince and he easily found himself slipping into place next to Rhaegar. “Your father grows irate much too quickly,” Tywin commented. Even if his son had disappeared, a good king would’ve remained calm. But they all knew Aerys was not a good king.

And Tywin wanted Rhaegar to realize that. As Rhaegar was going to be the king one day. And hopefully soon.

Tywin need to install some sort of trust between the two of them, more than Tywin simply being Aerys’s hand all Rhaegar’s life. Tywin still needed some form of power to remain. He somehow had to have his claws hooked into the crown, and if it wouldn’t be through his daughter it would have to be through him.

-

Saige was amused by Viserys. Even as his screech, so high pitched, made her ear ring for a few moments. She giggled at his excitement as he finally spotted the dragon, after having difficulty much like her. He dropped the ‘Lady’ but didn’t call her bastard either, in his excitement. He said it fondly and it warmed Saige’s heart. He went on to talk about what Lady Aemilia had told him of the ice dragons, until he exclaimed her name.

Saige turned then, Viserys head following along, his purple eyes remaining on the redhead. Saige wondered what the woman was doing there. Aemilia offered Saige a smile, which the Dornish woman returned, only for her eyebrows to furrow as Aemilia insisted it was time for Viserys to return to the feast. Something was off, Saige could tell that immediately.

It was when a door slammed nearby that Saige knew they were in trouble. She didn’t hesitate to quickly set Viserys down, albeit still gently. Then came the shout for Viserys, Saige recognizing the voice as the king’s. She realized then that this was her fault. Saige thought that the Queen had seen them go off, and maybe she did, but Aerys hadn’t.

Viserys reached for Aemilia’s hand, grabbing it, but not letting go of Saige’s either. The childish excitement that he once wore disappeared from his face, a frown taking it’s place and his eyes going glossy. “Am I in trouble? What did I do wrong?” He looked up to Aemilia as he asked the question, and he was clearly scared. Saige’s chest tightened and even though he asked Aemilia, Saige answered.

“Nothing, Your Grace. You’re not in trouble. Come, your father’s just worried about you.” Saige looked to the redhead then. “Stay here.” Saige knew that Aemilia would get into some deep shit if she was caught with Viserys and Saige, and the brunette wasn’t about to let the other woman get in trouble. So she’d step out, and Aemilia could return to the feast once the coast was cleared.

Saige gently pulled Viserys and allowed him to hesitantly take the lead, beginning to walk through the door, back inside. But Viserys quickly stopped as something blocked his path. Or rather someone. Aerys.

Saige quickly ushered Viserys behind her, in case something was about to happen she wasn’t about to allow a child be harmed. “Your Grace—“ Saige began but was quickly cut off.

Aerys’s gaze had been on his son as they nearly crashed into each other. As soon as Saige’s mouth open, his glare shot up to her. His hand reached out, gripping the arm the held Viserys’s hand. “What are you doing with my son, bastard?” He hissed, nails digging into Saige’s tan skin, immediately thinking the Dornish whore’s intentions were ill.

 

[Lucyfer]

Rhaegar's steps were hasty. He expected to overcome his father once he made out the sound of his steps, though he also heard another pair. He didn't slow, he didn't need to. Tywin Lannister could catch up - he walked the stairs of the Tower of the Hand at least twice a day. Which was exercise enough for most people. Rhaegar glanced to him when he caught up, hearing the slam of a door not too far. Tywin's statement was hardly news.

He had to resist the momentary urge to be sarcastic.

He would have meant it in both good humor and to empathize with Tywin's plight as his father's Hand. He remembered when things were better. Both men had changed, especially after the death of Joanna, for Tywin. He did not know where he stood with him. Aerys was paranoid, and Rhaegar could understand why. Even if Tywin never acted against him, his ambition was as clear as day. He wanted to be more, even if he held the highest position possible besides being king.

As Tywin knew best, those in second place loathed being in second. Yet, Rhaegar had never seen him act in any way against the family.

Then there was the fact that Rhaegar respected Tywin - and didn't want to seem a fool before him. So, no jokes. No sarcasm. A cool demeanor seemed best. "Yes, he does," he could agree with Tywin on that much. Little good it did either of them. His father's temper went beyond Tywin's ability to control. Perhaps it would have been better if his father kept mistresses...he seemed to hold his temper better.

Rhaegar wasn't even sure his mother would care anymore.

Then, a hiss, as Rhaegar neared the turn to the hall his father was in. And then Aemilia's voice. 'She was just....' he cut the thought. He was just in the throne room. Perhaps Rhaella sent her to find Viserys first. He could easily imagine that. Which meant Saige would be out of trouble.

He felt relief. Until he turned the corner.

~***~

'Someone is in trouble.' How did Viserys not know to make sure he told his parents where he was going? Even Aemilia knew to do so at his age. At least, she thought she did. Those memories became more blurry every day.

Before Aemilia could answer though, Saige did, and stole Viserys right from her, before Aemilia could offer alternatives to just walking out the front door. From the sounds of it, Aerys wasn't really searching the rooms.

No, Saige went right to the door leading Viserys out first as if he wouldn't be harmed. Thankfully, he wasn't, but Aemilia could easily see that Saige would be.

Aerys was starting to make her wonder if she was actually going to be able to leave King's Landing guilty of only one murder. Regardless, she had promised Oberyn, and it wasn't to her tastes to let another be harmed, either.

Aemilia stepped to the opened doorway and spoke before Saige could, "Your Grace, this is my fault." Aemilia kept her tone even, calm, reiterating her family's words over and over again in her head when Aerys's gaze met hers, the blazing purple crazed. She was afraid, but she wasn't going to let that detour her. No backing down from the Dragon King. She was a lion, and lions were the kings and queens of beasts...not dragons.

"I erred and let the young prince out of my sight to enjoy the festivities. Lady Saige kept him safe." As few lies as possible. As few details as possible. She moved a hand to wrap it around Aerys's wrist, aware she shouldn't at all touch the royal personage even before his gaze averted down to it. "I--."

He did let go of Saige.

Aemilia's own wrist was taken instead, as he had to remove his own from her grip, kept light. Her words weren't cut off by that, but by the pain of metal rings and stinging flesh. Aemilia's free hand sought and found the wall to keep her in her feet as her head rang. She was almost certain she was bleeding from where a ring cut in. Her eyes had at least closed quickly. "You endangered my son!" He shouted, "do you understand this isn't some game, you are here to do a job? No, of course not, neither of you do, you're both bastards. Never learned a bit about responsibility or your right place." Least of all the legitimized one, and he held her wrist all three tighter for it, wanting to see tears. Pain, fear, from either. Instead he saw his son with watering eyes from his fear. "You should both be executed for risking the life of my son." He wanted guards.

He let go of Aemilia only to reach for Viserys, who recoiled, right into Rhaegar. He looked up at his older brother, who was quick to take his hand and then reach for Saige to pull her back and to the side, away. "I'll take them back to the throne room, father." Rhaegar said. "You should return as well. I think they can be forgiven in this case. It is their first day here." They hardly deserved execution. He doubted either were endangering his brother's life.

"They were nice." Viserys added. He wanted to mention the dragon but then realized his father probably didn't like ice dragons. He liked fire ones. He might be angrier.

Aerys looked annoyed with Rhaegar trying to overstep his bounds. "Thank you, your grace." Aemilia's words were soft. Her hand had come from her cheek with a bit of blood, but not too bad. She kept her head bowed, hands behind her back. "You are correct, and I will not forget this lesson should you spare me. I have been spoiled until now and will strive to learn my place better in service to you and your family." In service to Rhaella and her children.


Behind the walls, Pyke was keeping himself from groaning. They were going to kill a king. He wasn't paid enough for this. He knew that tone of voice too well, that defeated, ingratiating tone of voice that meant the absolute opposite of what she was saying. He was getting a raise before they went through with this nonsense. Out going home. Or Essos. Or anywhere the fuck else.

 

[KyloGlenn]

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ That was Saige’s first thought, the moment Aemilia spoke up. Why would she do such a thing? Aemilia surely wasn’t so stupid as to think she would be immune of being harmed by the king. And Saige didn’t not like Aemilia, but she certainly wouldn’t consider them friends. They knew each other for exactly two seconds.

Saige could’ve dealt with the King and whatever he may have wanted to do to her. It’s not like But she didn’t. Aemilia did.

And now Saige was indebted to Aemilia.

Saige spotted Aemilia grab the King, an immediate mistake. ‘What-‘ Saige didn’t even have time to wonder yet again what the fuck was wrong with Aemilia. She didn’t have time to enjoy the relief she felt when Aerys released her, when his nails retracted from her skin. The King’s hand raised and even though Saige recognized what would happen in those brief seconds, she still gasped when his hand collided with Aemilia’s face.

It made Aemilia stumble. And when Aerys’s hand withdrew, Saige saw that Aemilia’s face was, in fact, cut. Saige felt quilt, but all the more she felt anger.

The King was not at all a respectable man.

Saige barely even listened to the King’s shouting. She only heard a select few words. Endangered, bastards, responsibility. Execution. It was at that word that the image of simply shoving the King right off the balcony came into mind. Saige had no thoughts of the consequences. All she thought of was killing the man, ending the possibilty of execution. The possibility of Aerys hurting Aemilia even more, or Viserys.

It would be so easy.

And Saige likely would have gone through with it, if she hadn’t felt a hand on her arm, pulling her off of the balcony and off to the side. She looked to the owner of the hand ‘Rhaegar.’ Where had he come from? Didn’t matter.

She began to think of all the things wrong with pushing the King off of the balcony. She’d have done it in front of his own son, in front of Aemilia. She’d have murdered the King. And it wouldn’t look good for her family for the King to be killed on their first day there.

Saige heard Viserys say that they were nice, and Saige’s muscles relaxed at those words. That poor kid. She hoped he’d still want to see her after this whole ordeal, but she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

Aemilia spoke, and Saige knew what she said was likely only to please the King. To get him to calm down and back off. Saige admired Aemilia’s ability to do that. Saige would only be enraged if she were in Aemilia’s position, which she very well could have been if it weren’t for the redhaired woman.

Tywin, too, knew what Aemilia was saying was pure bullshit. She was only saying it now because she was dealing with the King, who would very well have her executed for no good reason and no one would be able to stop him. If she had any respect in her at all, she would have kept her mouth shut at dinner. Tywin was certain it would take more than a slap to the face to put respect into a woman like her.

But luckily, Aerys knew no better. As he was fooled, but still not pleased with her. “You should have known your place well before this night, bastard. You’re not fit to be my wife’s handmaiden and you should be punished for your endangerment of my son. You and the other whore.” Aemilia deserved more than just a smack across the face and he wanted them both punished. Maybe not execution, but they deserved something, didn’t they?

Tywin suppressed an eye roll. “Come, Lady Aemilia.” Tywin urged, or ordered, her to leave Aerys’s side. “Your Grace, need you be reminded of her noble status?”

Aerys scoffed, “She’s hardly a Lady.”

“Hardly, but she is one. And you hit a noblewoman.” He could hit his own wife, servants. Whatever. But there had to be a line, especially for the King. And that line was a noblewoman who was not his wife or his daughter or anything of the sort.

“Your point? I am the King! I can do what I wish.”

‘You’re no King.’ Tywin Lannister thought. Maybe in title, but Aerys was a pathetic excuse for a King. “You can do what you’d like, but it should be a question whether you should do what you’d like.” Nothing would come of Aerys hitting Lady Aemilia, not even if she reported it to her wimpish Hetherspoon father. But if he’d hit the other bastard, the Dornish one, the story could be different.

Aerys glared at Tywin, purple eyes burning into green ones. Aerys should have Tywin punished for saying something like that, ordering Aerys around. Telling him what he should or shouldn’t do. Especially in front of his own sons.

“I advise you return to the feast, Your Grace. Before your absence is noticed.” Tywin remained unmoved by Aerys’s look, tacking on the word ‘advise’. All of this put under the subject of Tywin being Hand. His job was to advise the King. Not to rival him. That’s what everyone there needed to think, anyway.