High Tide, Chapter 47: The Nuptials (Patreon)

Seventh Moon, 113 AC

Baela Targaryen

The festivities that had been planned for her and Rhaena’s wedding were rather ostentatious in Baela’s opinion. Maybe even too much so. All the pageantry and splendor one would expect from a royal wedding was to be on display. Neither her uncle or the Velaryons had spared the slightest expense, both families were eager to show off the full extent of their wealth and power. That wasn’t just her estimation though, she’d heard her uncle, Archmaester Vaegon, sigh and cite his sums a few weeks ago.

Befitting the grandeur of the event, the festivities would not last merely one day. The wedding was to be followed by a six-day tourney with feasts every night, and then followed by more feasting and games before finally ending with a hunt in the Kingswood in a few weeks’ time. It all started today however.

“Oh Baela, you look gorgeous darling.” Her mother cooed as the bridesmaids helped her into her dress. It was a foppish thing to be honest, all purple and red and made out of the finest woven silk and velvet. Its train was absurdly long and would require seven servants just to carry it. She would be thankful to be able to change out of it into more comfortable and practical attire for the festivities after the wedding.

Grimly she recalled the many months of tedious fittings and tailoring that she had had to suffer through for this dress to be made. Jacaerys Velaryon better be worth all this effort. It was not often that she indulged in fancy dresses, preferring breeches and doublets which were much easier to run and ride in, but today would be one of those uncommon occasions that she dressed as ladylike as she could. It was to be her wedding after all.

And of course, a royal princess could not be caught in merely a dress now could she? Baela watched as her mother directed the servants to bring in the jewelry and the makeup for her. They lightly brushed a gentle purple eyeliner along her eyes and a powder on her cheeks that made her look even paler than she normally did. She could see a faint blush in her cheeks in the vanity.

Even as some of the bridesmaids were attending to her makeup, others were fitting on her jewelry. They wrapped a dragonhide belt around her waist, bound and buckled with gold and steel, with intricate patterns in the metal; amethysts, garnets, rubies, and obsidian lined the belt and hung in a small chain off the edge near her left hip. Next they pinned a stunning black pearl brooch to her left breast and gave her a set of gold and ruby gemstone bracelets and a necklace. It was probably the most jewelry she had worn in years.

Idly Baela twirled the ring on her finger. It was a gift from her betrothed, soon to be husband. A Valyrian Steel band with a large sea-green aquamarine and seven small sapphires set into it. It was the only trace of blue or green that Baela was wearing apart from her earrings, which were a light and pale jade green and painstakingly shaped into tiny models of a dragon. Her dragon, her beloved Moondancer, whom she had finally been allowed to claim a few months ago at last after sixteen years of waiting.

It had been a furious debate within the family for years on when or if they could claim dragons, even after they had been betrothed. When it became clear that Aunt Viserra intended to gift them dragon eggs from Dreamfyre, Baela’s parents had successfully argued that they might as well allow her and Rhaena to claim their dragons rather than make them indebted to Viserra. She was grateful to her parents for it.

While she had appreciated her Aunt Viserra’s offer and would probably have been desperate enough to accept any dragon, it was Moondancer that she had wanted in her heart. Moondancer was always supposed to be hers anyway, and she had longingly stared at her for many years through the iron gates of her vault that separated them. Privately, she wondered if maybe Moondancer had bonded to her even through that gate many years ago, because when she had finally claimed her officially and taken her out for a ride, it felt like she’d always been a part of her, a part that had finally come home.

Her mother ran her hand along the back of her neck and the locks of silver-white hair that fell loosely from her scalp. “I did tell you to grow your hair out for your wedding, didn’t I?” she chided.

Baela smiled. “I did,” she protested lightly.

Her mother was unimpressed. “It’s only reaching your neck Baela.”

“Better than my ears,” she countered.

At that, her mother only sighed before she started gently brushing the ends of her neck-long hair. After she had combed neatly through her hair, she took out a gilded tiara with fourteen red diamonds cut in the shape of flames set into it. Gently she placed the tiara atop her head and through her hair before she combed again around it and braided the ends of her hair at the back of her head into a neat horizontal braid.

“There, now you look like a Targaryen princess,” her mother said though there was a trace of bitterness in her voice.

Baela smiled. “And I always will Mother,” she said as she turned to face her mother, their purple eyes locked.

Her mother smiled sadly. “You will be the Lady of the Tides one day Baela. It would not be proper for you to always dress in Targaryen colors.”

“I think Rhaena has that covered,” Baela jested as they both turned to look at Rhaena.

While they had once been identical and inseparable, as the years passed since they were about ten or so, their interests had begun to diverge. It was not that Baela had no interest in ladylike things or that Rhaena cared not at all for riding and hawking as she did but rather they had chosen to prioritize which interests had appealed to them more and they had begun to dress and act increasingly different.

Their faces might still be identical but there was a sort of softness and grace to Rhaena’s demeanor that Baela rarely displayed even though she was more than capable of doing so if she wished. Where Baela’s hair didn’t even reach her shoulders, Rhaena’s flowed in long braids all the way down to her waist. Blue winter roses and violet carnations had been placed in her braids to form an elegant pattern.

Befitting their nature as twins, their dresses had been designed with a similar cut and train but the similarities ended there. While Baela’s dress was all purple and red, Rhaena’s was purple and teal. Her set of jewelry was similar to Baela’s but the colors were likewise changed. Opals, pearls, jades, aquamarines, and sapphires adorned her belt and rings, while silver bracelets inlaid with sapphires and moonstones wrapped around her wrists. A white-gold tiara set with diamonds had been placed into her hair.

Like Baela, she similarly wore earrings in the design of a dragon, though hers were made of amethyst and modeled after Morning. Her necklace was perhaps the most eye-catching of her jewelry. It was known as Tian-tsui apparently and it was a Yi Tish art form wherein iridescent blue kingfisher feathers were painstakingly cut and glued onto gilt silver and no enamel could rival the stunning and rich deep blue color produced.

“Already wearing Velaryon colors Rhaena?” Baela teased.

“Might as well get a head start on it,” she replied.

“If it was up to me, neither of you would ever have to wear Velaryon colors, but alas it is not,” their father said as he entered the room. Their younger siblings, Helaena and Jaehaerys were with him and they rushed to their side. Helaena to Rhaena to coo over her dress and Jaehaerys rushed into Baela’s arms and gave her a tight hug.

“Oof,” Baela could not help but say, a little stunned by her twelve-year old brother’s sudden charge into her.

“Jae,” their mother rebuked. “You know you’re not supposed to disturb your sister’s dress. And stop smiling Baela, if your dress and hair get messed up, you’re going to have to sit there and let it all be redone.”

At that Baela dropped the smirk off her face and sternly rebuked her brother, before she dropped the mask and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Her father Daemon seemed very emotional and despondent. “At long last it has come,” he said dramatically. “My dear eldest daughters are to be wed so soon, and to the Velaryon brats of all people. Truly the Seven have cursed me.”

“You don’t believe in the Seven Father,” Baela noted.

He smirked. “Perhaps that is why they have cursed me.”

“Oh stop being so dramatic kepa. Luke and Jace aren’t that bad,” Rhaena protested.

Baela’s smile faded a little though she tried hard not to show it. Rhaena had always been more eager than she for this marriage. She and her betrothed Lucerys had taken a great liking to each other and were very pleased with the marriage. Not to mention, Rhaena was closer than she to their grandparents who had always been favorable to the Velaryons.

Predictably their father’s mood soured. “We shall have to agree to disagree there Rhaena. Which reminds me,” he said seriously. “If the Velaryon boys mistreat or disrespect the two of you in any way, all you need to do is write a letter. They will answer to me and I’m sure your mother would be more than willing to contribute as well. The two of you have your own dragons as well, do not be afraid to use them if needs must. You will always have refuge in the Red Keep or on Dragonstone. Never forget your roots, that you were Targaryens first.”

Rhaena seemed to be resisting the urge to roll her eyes but she nodded. As for Baela herself, she took the words to heart. She had always been closer to their parents and their misgivings had rubbed off on her, whether that was good or not.

To his credit, Jacaerys had always been a perfect gentleman in every interaction they had had since they were betrothed and at her grandparents’ and twin’s urging, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Their relationship was cordial enough, but in the back of her mind the sight of her father’s broken and bloody nose after Jacaerys had beat him had seared itself. No explanation or reasoning that her father had started that fight, that Jacaerys was only defending himself, had ever removed it from her mind.

Rhaena had it easier in that sense. Even their father disliked Lucerys a little less than he did Jacaerys. Lucerys had a perfect sterling record, dutiful, loyal to his brother and family, and far more amicable than his more hotheaded twin. His only crimes in their parents’ eyes was being born a Velaryon and supporting his brother Jacaerys, whom the majority of their hatred now seemed to rest on.  It made things very awkward for Baela, who hated the idea of being caught between her husband and her parents.

“Daemon,” their mother reprimanded. “Our thoughts on their grooms notwithstanding, that is not something we should discuss on their wedding day. It is a bad omen for the future.” Addressing them, she continued. “Still your father is right girls. If you need anything, he and I will always be ready to give you aid.”

Baela and Rhaena both nodded appreciatively at her words as their father brought out their wedding cloaks. The cloaks were a dark obsidian black and each had a brilliant three-headed dragon that had been immaculately sewn onto the cloth and bordered in a gold thread trim. Their parents wrapped the cloaks around them then, their father wrapping Baela and their mother Rhaena.

“Come,” their mother said. “The wedding will be starting soon. It is time we were off.”

The journey from the Red Keep to the Great Sept of Jaehaerys was not long. Visenya’s Hill was halfway across the city from Aegon’s High Hill but the roads had been cleared by their guards, allowing the wheelhouse to move easily along the paved roads to the sept.

When they arrived, Baela’s parents and siblings helped her and Rhaena out of the carriage before they entered the sept. The congregation rose as they entered and the music started. Helaena and Jaehaerys made their way to stand with their grandparents and the rest of the family even as their parents walked them down their aisle. Baela had her arm slung around their father’s while their mother had Rhaena’s arm interlocked with hers.

As they walked to the altar, Baela’s eyes could not help but stray. All around them, the opulence and wealth of House Targaryen and Velaryon were on full display. Flowers adorned every pew and decorated the walls. Servants threw colorful powders in the air while ribbons ran up the columns and from one side of the roof to the other. Hanging from the rafters were enormous banners made out of silk and velvet at great expense, the silver seahorse of House Velaryon on sea-green on one side and the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen on black on the other.

All around them, Baela could feel the eyes of the realm upon her. Nobles and lords and ladies from every corner of the realm had come for the ceremony. Some she could tell were displeased by her marriage but kept only a fake smile on their face, while for others their jubilation and cheer was genuine.

Finally, they neared the end of the aisle and there he was, standing before the altar and the High Septon and his crystal crown. His brother Lucerys was across the aisle from him waiting for Rhaena but Baela only had eyes for her own intended. He was dressed sharply in teal pants and a made to fit dark blue doublet with silver buttons and a silver thread pattern along the placket.

As they approached, Jacaerys extended his hand to welcome her and across the aisle she could see that Lucerys had mirrored his action with Rhaena. Her father could not help but sneer and glare at Jacaerys but ever so reluctantly he let go of Baela’s arm so she could take Jacaerys’ hand.

Now that she was standing beside him, Baela could observe her soon to be husband even better. She had observed his features a hundred times before and would likely do so thousands more. Her mixed feelings about him regardless, she could not lie that Jacaerys Velaryon was a very handsome man.

His silver-gold hair had been combed neatly though it still seemed to fall messily from his scalp as always. His jaw was strong and well defined, framing his face nicely and making him look exceedingly attractive. But it was the eyes that got Baela the most, as they always did. As deep as they were purple, they had a dark luster that she almost lost herself in.

Shaking her head slightly, she focused on the ceremony, which seemed to pass in a blur. All the pomp and ceremony had come out today for a royal wedding and the High Septon spoke in an agonizingly slow drawl and yet the ceremony still went by too fast for Baela’s liking. Before she knew it, it was time to say the vows.

At the High Septon’s direction, her father and mother removed the cloaks from her and Rhaena’s shoulders and Jacaerys and Lucerys replaced the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen with the silver seahorse on a field of sea-green. As she shuffled in the unfamiliar cloak, Baela watched nervously as the High Septon and his assistant tied the ribbons between her hand and Jacaerys’ while the same happened for her twin and his twin across the aisle.

Suppressing her slight panic, Baela recited the vows with Jacaerys and she could hear Lucerys and Rhaena doing the same from across the aisle. Before the realm entire, they swore their fidelity, their love, and their loyalty, that they would always stand at the side of their spouse come sickness or health, wealth or poverty, good times or bad, until death did them part.

Finally, it was time to seal the marriage. “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity,” the High Septon declared before he unraveled the ribbon. At his instruction, Jacaerys turned to face her once again.

As one, four souls spoke. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.”

“I am his and he is mine…” Baela and Rhaena said.

“I am hers and she is mine…” Jacaerys and Lucerys said at the same time.

“From this day, until the end of my days,” they finished together.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady wife,” Jacaerys said, placing his hand below her chin.

The world shrank down to just the two of them then. Baela was barely aware of the eager anticipation of the congregation, or that Lucerys was doing the same to her sister across the aisle. Staring into those deep purple eyes, Baela allowed herself to become lost in them.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you to be my lord husband,” she said before she mustered up her courage and leaned in to kiss him before he could do the same. He hesitated for a brief moment, no doubt surprised, before he tightened his grip on her head and deepened the kiss, and Baela melted into him.

The congregation cheered and applauded as the two pairs of twins sealed their marriages. With the wedding now over, they now had to accept all the congratulations. Baela greeted all the well-wishers with a smile and thanked them for their congratulations and for coming to her wedding, all the while hoping they would hurry it up so she could return to the Keep and change into a much more practical dress.

When Jacaerys and her had finally made their way out of the keep, she saw her parents and younger siblings entering the wheelhouse she had come in and setting off for the Keep. ‘They’ve left me behind,’ she thought for a moment, before she remembered that she was now wed as Jacaerys led her to the wheelhouse his family had ridden to the Great Sept.

Entering the wheelhouse, Baela took a seat on the seats, feeling the blue silk and velvet beneath her as she sat. As they waited, Rhaena and Lucerys took their seats as well, and soon so did her new goodparents, Lord Corlys and Aunt Viserra, and her cousins and now goodsiblings, Laena and Daeron.

As they set off for the Keep and Baela was drawn into conversation with her goodfamily, she realized why her parents had seemed so bitter that morning. She had barely come of age a few moons ago, and she was already wed and given away to another house.

____________________________________________

“You know, sometimes I wonder if four people got married this morning, or two,” her new goodbrother Daeron jested at the wedding luncheon.

Her cousins Aegon and Laena snorted. Jacaerys and Lucerys seemed to be amused by the joke though Baela was not sure what to think of it.

“I mean just look at them,” Daeron continued, gesturing to the four of them. “What are the odds that two pairs of identical twins would wind up marrying?”

“Low I would imagine,” Lucerys quipped.

“I guess that just makes us even more special then,” Rhaena said smugly.

“If I recall correctly, since your children would have identical twins as parents, they would be as closely related as full blooded siblings,” Laena said aloud.

Baela wasn’t sure if that was how it worked but she saw Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Daeron all nodding at their sister’s words, so perhaps this was something taught in Driftmark and Tyrosh?

“That sounds good to me,” Jacaerys said to Luke before he took a sip from his cup of wine.

“Definitely,” Luke replied.

Baela could not resist the opportunity. “With all this wine you’re drinking Jacaerys, are you sure you’d actually be able to perform tonight to get started on making those siblings?” she asked with a sly smirk.

Jacaerys sputtered, almost choking on his wine. Lucerys, Laena, Daeron, and Rhaena laughed uproariously and even Aegon smirked at Jacaerys’ expense.

As she struggled to rein in her laugh, Laena spoke up again. “Ah Baela, you’ll fit right in with us.”

Wiping any wine he had spilt with a napkin, Jacaerys recovered fast. “I assure you my dear wife,” he began and it was still weird for Baela to hear herself being called that, “that Arbor Red is hardly sufficient to intoxicate me.”

Baela raised her eyebrow. Jacaerys continued seeing her expression. “Oh yes, mere wines can’t possibly compare to the spiced liquors, Tyroshi pear brandy, and Driftmark whiskey that I normally drink.”

“Oh is that so? Then there won’t be any issues then,” Baela said.

“Certainly not on my part, though are you sure that youare ready for it?” he countered with a sly smirk of his own.

Despite herself, Baela blushed. She wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t like he had said anything particularly suggestive. She was saved from answering thankfully because the food came then.

Once again, no expense had been spared. Altogether, when one counted all the starters and soups, the mains and meats, the vegetables, the desserts and cakes and fruits, the wedding luncheon was to have forty-nine courses, a most auspicious and holy number, seven times seven. There was also to be no waste from that excessive amount, as her uncle had ordered that any leftovers would be gifted to the poor of Flea Bottom. She was sure they’d be cheering his name for months, which was precisely what he desired.

There was so much variety in food that Baela wasn’t even sure where to even begin. There were creamy soups made from puréed mushrooms, onions and carrots. The meats included pork from pigs roasted whole, beef steaks, lamb sirloins, fried chicken wings and thighs, roasted swans, smoked duck, pigeon pie, and pheasant and turkey, with rice and bread as the staples to go with the meat. Peacock pies were served as well, with their tails and heads kept intact for display, though Baela hated those because it was merely for show and the meat wasn’t actually all that nice to eat.

Sauces were not lacking either, be it in varieties or amounts and despite not normally liking eating vegetables, Baela found herself enjoying the garlic stir-fried spinach. Apparently, Driftmark and Tyroshi chefs had been involved in cooking the food. She should have expected no less. She had always dined exquisitely whenever she had visited Driftmark in the past.

When the desserts were finally brought out, Rhaena and her had almost squealed but they most definitely kept their restraint, for sure. It was unbecoming of princesses to squeal. Still Baela could not help but sigh in content pleasure as she indulged in the sweet chocolate and strawberry cakes and macarons and even helped herself to some exotic fruits like mangoes, watermelons, and dragon fruits from the Summer Islands which had been kept fresh by large blocks of ice for transport to the capital. Speaking of ice, Baela much enjoyed having small ice cube shaved from said large blocks in her wine and juice.

All the while as they indulged in some of the finest foods she had ever had, they were entertained by troupes of mummers and jesters, a circus of entertaining fools and freaks, and even a menagerie of exotic animals taught to do tricks such as parrots and peacocks and apparently a shadowcat of all things, the Kingsguard and Tide Guard had both been particularly annoyed by that.

The animals reminded her a little of her pet monkey, a Little Valyrian lemur she had named Timpa. She found herself searching for any similarities between her pet and the monkeys kept by the performers though she found little beyond some superficial similarities in behavior. It seemed that Little Valyrians were just as unique among monkeys as Valyrians were among men.

She watched briefly as Laena and Aegon all but fed each other, clearly still in love after their betrothal had failed to materialize four years ago, and frowned. She knew her parents wanted Aegon to marry Helaena, and that Helaena herself had also become deeply infatuated with Aegon. It left her torn, not knowing what to feel.

Who was she to support? Her cousin Aegon and her husband and goodsiblings clearly desired the match, yet at the same time, Helaena was her own little sister. Baela felt a responsibility to support her cause and back her up. She was all too familiar with those whose expectations had been crushed.

Rhaenyra had resented her for being betrothed to Jacaerys instead of her many years ago, before she had eventually gotten over it. Even now as she looked over to where they were seated with her father and the rest of their family, she could tell that Rhaenyra still looked apprehensive about being betrothed to a twelve-year-old boy though Baela thought that she better do right by her brother or she’d answer to her. Jaehaerys would not be twelve forever, one day he’d be a man grown and Rhaenyra would see his worth then.

She was trying to take her mind off the complicated web of betrothals and relationships in her family when something caught her eye at the edge of the venue. Jacaerys’ desired Tyroshi pear brandy was finally served and his siblings ribbed him, warning him against becoming intoxicated and unable to perform, but Baela was unfortunately distracted or she’d have surely joined in with the laughter at her new husband’s expense.

At the edge of the venue, Baela could see her mother speaking with her new goodmother. She was more than aware that her mother greatly resented Aunt Viserra and there was little love lost between them. Which begged the question.

What could they be speaking about?

_______________________________________________

Gael

As she watched her daughters laughing and smiling with their new husbands and goodsiblings, Gael felt torn. Her siblings Baelon and Alyssa had ensured that Baela and Rhaena would at least give Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon a chance and once that had happened, Gael had restrained herself as well as her husband. As best as she could, she’d leashed their pride and anger because it was their daughters’ happines that came first before everything and ruining their marriages out of their own selfish feelings was not something good parents did.

Yet why did it hurt? She felt this anger within her, this fear. Deep in her heart, she worried that she would lose Baela and Rhaena to the Velaryons. That they’d come to love that family and that house more than the one which had borne and raised them. She’d seen it happen before after all, when Viserra had been whisked away by House Velaryon and her parents had never been able to let her go.

Even on his deathbed, the father she had loved so much, whose side she had been by for years, had words only for Viserra, and to encourage the rest of them to reconcile with her and hers. And her mother? Her mother had abandoned her long ago. She had died within a year of her father, never caring enough to apologize to her and make up for all her years of absence before she slipped entirely into senility and incoherence and then death.

Unable to bear the sight and the mixed feelings it gave her any longer, Gael decided to go to the wine barrel and refill her cup in person rather than asking a servant, hoping the walk would clear her mind. Unfortunately, she had hoped in vain because the person she wanted to see least walked up beside her.

Sighing, Gael spoke aloud. “What do you want Viserra?” she demanded as she led her away from the wine barrels to a more private setting for a conversation away from the venue where a great oak tree stood.

“Does a big sister need a particular reason to talk to her little sister?” she asked in turn.

Gael scoffed. “You haven’t been my big sister in decades. And that was your choice not mine. You never once wrote to me, never once bothered to seek me out, to build a relationship with me. And now you dare call yourself my big sister? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I rarely wrote Daella and Saera either, they aren’t nearly as hostile to me even though their families’ interests are often opposed to mine own. What did I ever do to you Gael that made you hate me so much?”

Gael could not withhold it any longer. She didn’t care that she was speaking to her daughters’ new goodmother, only wishing, needing, to let Viserra see a fraction of what she had felt. “Everything. You took them from me! You don’t know what it’s like to be abandoned by your mother when you’re eleven years old! You don’t know what it’s like to stay with your father and be loyal to him, accepting and practicing all his teachings, only for him to spit on them on his deathbed and call out to the daughter who had betrayed him instead of the daughter that was by his side all those years. You don’t know what it’s like to feel – “

“Unloved by your family?” Viserra asked suddenly, surprising her. “Inadequate? Thinking that you can never measure up to your parents’ expectations? That you can never earn their love no matter what you do? That you will always be in the shadow of your more famous and infamous older siblings, the same siblings who judge you and are cruel to you?”

Gael paused. “How in the seven hells do you know that??”

Viserra laughed bitterly. “Oh Gael, I was there. You’re just too young to remember. I was the black sheep of the family. I was too vain so mother scolded me. Too irresponsible and daring so father feared me and judged me. Too beautiful so Alyssa hated me and thought that I sought to steal Baelon away from her. Too insignificant so Aemon and Baelon and everyone else thought that I was nothing more than a pretty face and an empty head and cared not for me at all.

“I was there just the same as you are and when I look at you now, it’s like looking at a mirror, seeing everything that I used to be, everything I could have been, and I want to help you because whether you believe it or not, deep down I still care for you. You’re still my baby sister.”

Gael glared at her. “We, are nothing alike.”

“Aren’t we?” Viserra challenged. “We both felt neglected by our parents and our elder siblings growing up. We are both proud and sometimes even arrogant to a fault, vain and thinking that our children deserve more. That we deserve more. I was there Gael, I felt all the things you feel, sometimes I still feel them. But wisdom is knowing when to let it go. Let the past die, kill it if you have to. That’s the only way you can move on and embrace a better future.

Gael did not comment on that, instead she said tiredly, “What do you want from me Viserra? Don’t pretend that you’re giving me this caring and loving big sister counsel after all these years purely out of the goodness of your heart.”

Viserra looked at her then, staring at her as she spoke softly. “You’re afraid aren’t you?”

Gael grew defensive. “What can I possibly have to fear from you?”

“You said it yourself didn’t you? Everything,” she said as she suddenly stepped forward closer to Gael, making Gael back away from her.

“You say that I took your mother and father from you? Perhaps you feel that I took Aemon, Baelon, and Alyssa from you as well,” she said as she continued to step closer to Gael. Gael grew panicked then and backed up even further, finding her back against the oak tree with nowhere to go. Viserra drew even closer, her voice judging, like she saw through her very soul. “And now you’re afraid that my sons and I will take your daughters from you as well,” she said as she intruded very far into her personal space, becoming far too close for comfort.

Gael was stunned when Viserra suddenly pulled her from where her back was against the tree into a tight embrace. “But it doesn’t have to be that way little sister. Whether you want to admit it or not, we are blood you and I. You say I took your parents but they were my parents as well. And I am sorry, I’m so sorry that I made you feel that way. I can’t claim responsibility for what they did, but for whatever part I had in making you feel like I did when I was young, I am sorry.”

Gael did not return the hug so Viserra released her and pulled back, wiping away the few tears in her deep purple eyes. “Don’t you see Gael? You are resentful that our parents and eldest siblings seemed to choose me over you and you’re afraid that your daughters will do the same, but we are both kin. Why is there a need to consider this? This fear is only because our houses have not truly reconciled yet, because we are still at odds with each other. It is an unnatural state of things that has set kin against each other, blood against blood.

“Why don’t we end it once and for all? Make peace between us so you need never fear that you will ever lose your daughters or anyone else to me ever again because our family will be healed and become one whole again, a whole where it is perfectly acceptable to love and honor both your Targaryen and your Velaryon family members.

“How?” Gael demanded.

Viserra regained her composure. “By settling the matter of Tyrosh and the Stepstones, by making sure Aegon and Laena are wed.”

Gael laughed. She would admit, Viserra almost had her, but what a snake she was. “Do you think me a fool Viserra? You said it yourself. We are both vain and arrogant, thinking that we and our children deserve more. And now your master plan is to ask me to sacrifice mine and my own daughter’s ambitions and desires so that you and yours will triumph in our stead? Such hypocrisy!” she spat.

“It is hypocrisy, I know Gael. But I have to look out for my own family’s interests as well,” Viserra said as Gael scoffed. “It is not pride or greed that motivates me when I seek this, at least not in whole because I can admit it is in part. Mostly it is fear, it is a desire to see to my family’s safety. It is not the power and prestige of the queen that I long for, or the wealth that will come with the Stepstones, or the prestige and power of autonomy in Tyrosh. It is seeing that my family remains safe, free to be prosperous. It is protection that I desire.”

“Protection from what?”

“From everything Gael. The Iron Throne has tried to destroy my family before. Returning the Stepstones to us, giving us a queen, and guaranteeing our autonomy in Tyrosh is the only way we can feel safe fully returning to the fold instead of fearing that we will be betrayed and backstabbed again at any moment. If it was only my pride holding me back, you would have every right to judge me, but I threw that away years ago.

“Please Gael. I’m asking, no, begging you. Join us. You are one of the most fiercely opposed to the deal Aemon worked out with us years ago. If you changed your mind, the rest would surely follow. We could have peace Gael. This is in your interests as well! Your daughters have just wed my sons! With a truly lasting peace, you will never need fear that you will find yourself at odds against them, never need fear that you will lose them.”

For a moment Gael allowed herself to consider it, but then she remembered how the Velaryons had perpetuated this feud just as much as she and her house might have. How even now Viserra continued to undermine the supposed kin she so cared for. Were Daella and Saera not her kin as well? Why then did her house continue to empower and ally with those threatening Daella and Saera’s children? Viserra was a snake, untrustworthy, and unreliable.

“No Viserra Velaryon. I think not. I will not be like mymother and father. I will not sacrifice one daughter to save another as they did, especially not on your asking.”

Viserra’s voice grew hard and cold then. “And are you not doing the same regardless by sacrificing Baela and Rhaena so you may uplift Helaena in their stead, all because she is the daughter that remains to you and will forever be Targaryen if you succeed in your pursuit of the queen’s crown for her?”

Gael did not deign to answer her accusation.

“So be it then Gael Targaryen,” Viserra said then. “Your eldest daughters may very well be lost to you now. They have wed my sons and will bear their children, and one day they will choose them above you as I chose my husband and children above our parents. And it will all be yourfault. It would be a fool’s hope to pray that you do not come to regret it just as our parents did. Then and only then will you understand why they longed for my forgiveness as much as they did,” she said cruelly before she stormed away.

Gael clenched her fists in rage once Viserra had departed. She had shown her true colors at last, all the cruelty and malice Gael had always known lurked in her. She would be sure to tell it to Baela and Rhaena, to warn them against their harpy of a goodmother and what she might have taught her spawn, their husbands.

And yet, despite herself, Gael could not help but feel a gnawing seed of doubt and she hated it as much as she hated Viserra for planting it and hated herself for knowing deep, very deep down in her heart that it may be true.

_______________________________________________

Rhaenys

The wedding festivities had continued throughout the day. Once the luncheon had finally ended, they had all continued to entertain the guests until around four in the evening when they had all dispersed to bathe and dress for dinner, where yet another grand event had been planned. A grand banquet followed by a luxurious ball.

Truly her father had spared no expense when he had planned this wedding. Not only that, but he had refused House Velaryon’s offers to fund half of it as well, only initially accepting their aid in procuring certain items and materials. While the Velaryons had ultimately been able to convince her father to let them pay for about a third of the wedding, the dragon’s share had still been paid by her house. Her father had wanted to make it clear that House Targaryen’s wealth and power stood stronger than it had ever been in light of the continued whispering that he was marrying his nieces off to the Velaryons only as a bribe to attain their wealth and power to bolster his own.

It made Rhaenys wonder how much further he would go for Aegon’s wedding. A grandson was worth so much more than a niece and it was more than past time that Aegon wed. But to who?

Viserys interrupted her brooding. “Come now Rhaenys, what are you thinking so heavily about? It is a good night, just enjoy the dance,” her husband chided.

“Forgive me Viserys,” she said with a soft smile. “It’s just that the wedding celebrations have me wondering yet again who Aegon should wed.”

“Have you finally come to a decision?” Viserys asked curiously.

“No,” she admitted. “I am trying to though.”

Rhaenys had little fear that they would be overheard with how loudly the music was being played and how chaotic and crowded the dance floor of the ballroom was.

“You best hurry up with it then. Our son is already nine and ten and at some point, even duty will give way to lust and frustration. Laena Velaryon is twenty and one and though her parents still show no signs of marrying her to anyone else, Aegon may grow to fear that possibility and seek to prevent it.”

“And as every day passes, our niece Helaena grows older and even more beautiful and is herself deeply infatuated with Aegon and her side of the family is a key part in our maintaining our lead in dragons over the Velaryons,” Rhaenys countered.

“If you want him to marry Helaena, it’s also more than acceptable to me as well. My point is that you must choose soon Rhaenys. I have Silverwing now, we need not worry about dragons and their numbers so much anymore.”

“Perhaps, but I do worry. The Velaryons have seven adult dragons now due to Daemon and Gael’s pushing for Baela and Rhaena to be allowed to claim their dragons from the pit. Their motivations and actions are frankly all over the place sometimes.”

“Being erratic and unpredictable seems to be Daemon and Gael’s specialty. But in any case, you do know that the Velaryons having seven dragons is a reason to marry Aegon to Laena yes? It will allow us to recover one dragon at least and directly bind their house to our line and our son and not just to Daemon and Gael’s.”

“If the marriage was all that was asked for I would say yes in a heartbeat but you and I both know the Velaryons have drawn a line in the sand and demanded the matter of the Stepstones and Tyrosh be resolved in their favor as a prerequisite of the wedding. You and I agreed that that deal my father proposed all those years ago was utterly absurd and yet the Velaryons continue to stubbornly cling to it and have the audacity to demand its fulfillment before they would give their daughter’s hand to our son. When it would make their daughter a queen? Can you imagine that? How arrogant.”

Rhaenys meant to say more, but they were interrupted then by the people in question. Lord Corlys and her Aunt Viserra had approached them and Rhaenys shuffled awkwardly, hoping that she had not been overheard.

“Prince Viserys,” Lord Corlys greeted. “Might I have your permission to ask your wife for a friendly dance?”

Viserys raised his eyebrow but gave his permission. “You may, but only if I would have yours in turn.”

Lord Corlys smiled. “Of course.”

Following the traditional etiquette, Lord Corlys walked over to her and bowed to her before extending his hand and asking, “May I have this dance, Princess?”

“You may,” she answered reluctantly, finding herself curious about the reasoning behind this.

As they began their dance, the song changed and Rhaenys honestly felt like strangling her father because only he could have permitted this song of all things to be played here in the Red Keep.

When Driftmark first, at Seven's command

Arose from out the azure main;

Arose, arose from out the azure main;

“I see you don’t like the song,” Lord Corlys said with an amused expression on his face.

This was the charter of the land, the charter of the land

And guardian angels sang this strain:

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Rhaenys said, and she was half being honest. The tune at least was lovely but the lyrics, she really did hate the lyrics. The anthem of House Velaryon was not a song she would ever imagine playing in the Red Keep, not even for a wedding between her house and House Velaryon.

"Rule, Velaryon! Velaryon rule the waves:

"Tyroshi never, never, never shall be slaves."

“It’s just that I find the lyrics are inappropriate considering that this is the Red Keep, the seat of House Targaryen, not House Velaryon,” she said as the chorus repeated.

Lord Corlys chuckled. “Fair enough,” he said, though she could see that his eyes had a hint of triumph in them.

“Forgive me, but I could not help but overhear your conversation with Prince Viserys Princess,” he said next as the song continued into its next verse, twirling her around as they moved their steps to the beat of the song.

‘Oh Seven, spare me please,’ Rhaenys thought to herself. She didn’t exactly like Lord Corlys, but she had always done her best to act as cordial to him as possible, for diplomacy’s sake if nothing else.

“And I must say, I think that it would be best if we speak frankly with each other. May I inquire as to your true and honest opinions of me Princess?” Lord Corlys asked then, with that agonizingly smug smirk.

While thou shalt flourish, shalt flourish great and free,

The dread and envy of them all.

Rhaenys wanted to punch him, but she restrained herself, instead leading them into the next move where they gently moved side to side, stretching their arms against each other’s shoulders.

“You want my honest and unvarnished opinions of you Lord Corlys? Very well then, don’t go crying to your wife to avenge your honor though. I think that you are an overambitious grasper, who is pursuing things that are not his to pursue, a defiant and insubordinate vassal who went behind his liege’s back to conquer a foreign city and get away with it on a technicality and is now arrogantly giving demands to me and mine before he will allow my son to marry his daughter.”

Lord Corlys smiled in response as the second chorus ended. He released her hand as Rhaenys turned in place before returning to circle him, their hands raised straight against each other as their steps moved in the rise and fall that defined the waltz.

"Rule, Velaryon! Velaryon rule the waves:

"Tyroshi never, never, never shall be slaves."

“If I truly was an overambitious grasper, wouldn’t I have sought to try and wed you instead Princess Rhaenys? Instead I suggested your marriage to Prince Viserys, for the sake of peace and stability in the realm instead of prioritizing personal gain.”

Rhaenys was repulsed by the thought. “Don’t be absurd. My grandfather and my father would never have allowed that to happen. My marriage to Viserys was too important.”

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,

More dreadful, from each foreign stroke

More dreadful, dreadful from each foreign stroke;

Lord Corlys raised his eyebrows. “Don’t be so sure Princess. For whatever strange reason, no one had even considered a match between you and Prince Viserys until I suggested it. Not to mention, you father was fiercely opposed to it in those days. With my amicability with him at the time, there is chance, however so slight, that I might have married you instead. Have you ever allowed yourself to think of that possibility?”

For the briefest of moments Rhaenys allowed herself to entertain it, remembering a long forgotten and buried girlhood admiration and infatuation with Lord Corlys, who had seemed to be everything she might have wanted for a husband. If he had returned her feelings, or even actively pursued her, she could very easily see herself as having married him in another world. But she did not say that, unwilling to give him the victory. “It does not do to dwell on things that never were and never could have been.”

Lord Corlys smiled again. “Quite right Princess, though would you include the marriage of our son and daughter in that list of things to never be considered?” he asked and his voice turned serious now, with all the previous affability and smiling light-heartedness gone. Rhaenys remembered now why they called him the Sea Snake. This man truly could pounce at any moment. They stopped circling each other then, rejoining their hands to continue their steps and slides.

As the drakes roar, the roar that tears the skies,

Serves but to root thy native oak.

“It is not,” she reassured him. “But I have much to consider Lord Velaryon. Your demand for autonomy in Tyrosh, including the right to wage war and currency changes by the Iron Throne, along with the granting of the Stepstones to your person are very tall orders.”

“And does my family not deserve it though? Tyrosh is our own and we rule it independently of the Iron Throne altogether, and the Stepstones were always supposed to be ours anyway,” Lord Corlys countered.

“There are many who would disagree on House Velaryon’s deserving of such honors.”

“And are you among them Princess?” he challenged.

“Perhaps,” Rhaenys admitted as he twirled her one last time. “Do clarify this for me Lord Velaryon, but why exactly are these concessions so important to you? Is it merely pride or is there something deeper?”

There was a meaningful look in Lord Corlys’ face. “Not merely pride no. It is caution. The last time my family was wholly under the power of the Iron Throne, we were almost broken by it. You might argue that was deserved or not, but that fact stands. It has left us all wary of subordinating ourselves fully to the throne again without certain guarantees.

“Which is why I beseech you Princess, to once again reconsider our proposal. Let our son and daughter marry, let us have our concessions as your father agreed to. I would have peace between our families.”

“And if I don’t?” Rhaenys asked, still not wholly convinced.

“The end result may be something you regret,” he warned ominously before their hands broke apart and he bowed to her, leaving to seek out his wife.

Rhaenys was left thinking on his words as the song’s fourth verse progressed to its chorus.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:

All their attempts to bend thee down,

All their attempts to bend thee down

Will but arouse, arouse thy generous flame;

But work their woe, and thy renown.

"Rule, Velaryon! Velaryon rule the waves:

"Tyroshi never, never, never shall be slaves."

"Rule, Velaryon! Velaryon rule the waves:

"Tyroshi never, never, never shall be slaves!"

___________________________________________

Author’s Note: Hope you guys liked this chapter! Lmk your thoughts here or on the Discord server what you think of the chapter! If you have any suggestions to further enhance the descriptions in this chapter, lmk too.

This here is the link to the Appendix I made for the song Rule Velaryon btw: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/high-tide-a-corlys-velaryon-si.860581/post-95568193

I also have some images attached for Baela and Rhaena that were painstakingly generated and edited by Cate13, Jordan Redstark, Gladiusx, and myself!