Pre-Chapter A/N:Another chapter on time? Guess my lock-in is going pretty well. If you haven't already, I recommend turning on notifications for my stuff so you can see when new stuff drops right as it drops. Next four chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
Normally, a hosting Lord waited in their Great hall, sending a delegation to welcome guests and do the rites there. But what was normal about hosting a King? A King turned all the classic rules on their head. I waited at the pier, waiting for the royal Fleet to complete one of the most clumsy disembarkings I had ever seen. The lack of a dragon flying through the air told me Rhaenyra had not come with this delegation but that had been all I had been able to divine after over an hour of standing and waiting.
Well, that and the fact that the Royal Fleet had become plagued with a level of incompetence that was near biblical in its sheer hyperbolic degree. Mother and Laena had had chairs brought for them. I remained standing. Call it misplaced pride, respect for the royal house, or just sheer foolishness, but I refused the sign of weakness.
Sure, I had been up since before the sun could have been sighted on the horizon. I'd gone on a flight with Igneel where we had pushed ourselves harder than normal— I had spurred him on and my friend knew not how to say no to me— and then I had returned to the ground and spent the better part of the morning, preparing for the royal arrival. We had spotted their fleet days ago with the watchmen on the lighthouses, sending the warning and giving us the time to prepare. They weren't the only ones sure to arrive today. Tarth colours had been spotted as well.
The royal ships were slated to arrive first, and should have been well in harbour by the time the Baratheons arrived. With how long it was taking, another hour and we would have a holdup being built at my port. I was tempted to send Velaryon men to help the process but whether Viserys would see— or be led to see, rather— that as an insult was too unclear for me to risk it.
And so I waited. It took thirty minutes— another half an hour— for a small boat to be lowered from the ship that I knew held the King. With the benefit of binoculars, I knew that he was not on it. But the two white cloaks present made it clear it was the first of the procession.
Viserys came in the middle of a small fleet of boats as they ferried guards, courtiers, and all sorts towards my dock. I said nothing and allowed my face to show even less than that as I watched them proceed. These numbers. They would be a headache to manage. Not to talk of the Great Lords who were still yet to come, the King had brought half the nobility with him. I could spot Crownland Lords, Reacher Lords, Lords of the Western and River Lands, and even some Storm Lords. The King had moved, and where the King moves, so does the Court.
I waited as the lessers began disembarking, keeping my gaze on the King all the while. When the White Coat clad Harold Westerling helped him on to the hard wood of the pier, I dropped to one knee, the first to do so. All my attendants, servants, and guards did the same. Mother and Laena rose and curtseyed.
"Bloodstone, and the Stepstones are yours, your Grace," I said, speaking with my head lowered.
"Lord Velaryon— Cousin. They said it could not be done. All my advisers said the Stepstones would always be mired in conflict. That it would be the meal you choked on. They are wise men, my advisers. But they know not the Blood of Ancient Valyria. They know not the Conqueror's blood that runs in your veins as surely as it does mine. This Kingdom you have built in my name is beautiful, Cousin. Rise and embrace me, you have done well," he said, stepping right in front of me.
I did as he bid, even as I wondered what game he was playing. He clutched me in a long hug before he let go and nodded at me. I stepped back as he went to Laena next. Usually, Mother stood between us but as we were the ones being wedded, it made sense for the King to see us as that.
"Oh my dear Laena. You look more beautiful with each day that passes. My Cousin might be the luckiest man in all the Realm," he said, accepting her curtsy before placing a kiss on each of her cheeks. He moved on to Rhaenys.
"You have raised brilliant children, Cousin. They are your pride, and they bring you credit," he said, placing kisses on her cheek next.
"Cousin," he called, and it took me a second to realise that I was the one being addressed in this case.
"Yes, your Grace?"
"I have seen some of the other islands, but I am told that this one is your pride and joy. Might I impose on you for a tour of this holding?" he phrased it as a request, but everyone knew that Kings did not make requests. It was a polite order, but one nonetheless. I rearranged my schedule with an internal sigh even as I planted a smile on my face. There would be no rest for me yet.
"It would be my pleasure, your Grace. But first, bread and salt." I snapped my fingers for the servant to bring the traditional symbols of guest right.
He smiled and partook with a flourish before I spotted another boat make it from the ship. This one came with its own contingent of guards. Viserys looked back to see his wife approaching with most of the small council. There was something on his face that I could not quite place.
"Shall we proceed on the tour, Cousin?" he asked.
I looked at him and then back at his approaching Queen. This couldn't be good. I sighed. I was being asked to make a choice here. But it was no real choice in truth. Between a King and a Queen? This King and Queen especially. One had power, the other wielded courtesies.
XXXXXXXX- THE QUEEN
Her husband had slapped her on the face without even touching her, she thought. She thought the first and most grievous was his insistence on leaving ahead of her even as she got their children ready for what was sure to be a difficult journey. Aemond had not dealt well with being at sea, and transitioning from a large ship to a small boat was sure to make that worse for him so what could she do but prepare.
He had given her none of the time she needed and marched on ahead. An insult, but one that was bearable. She would deflect the questions with a smile and deft hand. She was not altogether new to this endeavour.
But now as her boat sallied towards the dock, she watched as her husband swept away with their host hot on his heels. Her eyes burned but she bore it with a smile. This was not the first insult she would bear.
She waited by her father's side, taking solace in his persistent silence. She knew that he saw the insult and understood its significance just as well as— perhaps even better than— she did. The other members of the Small Council turned their gazes from their departed King back to her and then back again. He had asked them to join her while he sallied ahead with his Kingsguard. Now they realised the situation.
Part of her was tempted to take his leaving them with her as a silver lining, but she knew he did it so the insult would sting all the more. With the small council at her side, she could not just pass under the radar. No, her arrival was going to be a thing of spectacle, and throughout the spectacle, the two absences would be noted.
The Hosting Lord was not there to greet her, and her husband the King was nowhere to be found. She reached the pier and handed Aemond over to his nursemaid before helping Aegon climb up. He was at that age where he thought he could do everything on his own but at the same time could do nothing. She accepted her father's arm to step on to the dock and walked towards the waiting ladies. Rhaenys Targaryen defied the years with more dignity with each one that passed.
By her side, her daughter and the other half of the incestuous marriage that was an affront to the Seven Who Are One was the picture of Valyrian beauty. Allicent wondered who would put the other to shame— her or Rhaenyra. Did the answer even matter? She had no doubt that if one of them was the most beautiful lady in the realm, the other would be a close second.
"My Queen," both women chorused, dipping into curtsies far too shallow to be fitting. They had seen her husband's insult and were acting accordingly.
"Lady Rhaenys, Lady Laena, it is a pleasure to see you both again. You look even more radiant than ever. The sea breeze of these undeveloped plains must be better for your constitution than the rigours of the capital," she said, not able to stop herself from slipping in the barb. Their disrespectful curtsies— if they could even be called that— were just about too much for her to bear.
"Thank you, my Queen. I would have also offered you a tour of the undeveloped plains but my son and your husband already left some time ago. I am sure your husband can tell you all about it during dinner," the Queen Who Never Was said, slipping in a return barb of her own. Allicent reminded herself that this woman had been born and raised in the viper's nest that was King's Landing. She could play the game.
"Oh, I am sure he will. He was so excited to see it. I couldn't bear to keep him waiting and asked him to proceed without me," she said, lying while allowing none of the standard tells to show on her face. Her Septa had trained her well in the art of spinning a lie— even better than she had been trained in spinning a yarn.
"Of course," Rhaenys replied, not even hiding the doubt in her voice or face. Perhaps Allicent was not as good a liar as she remembered being.
"Lord Hand, a pleasure to see you have made the journey." Rhaenys turned away from her, not even waiting to be dismissed before attending to the next member of her party. Another insult. A queen out of favour would have to face many small indignities, it seemed.
She turned her attention to the bride to be.
"I must offer my congratulations. I admit a small debate had opened amongst my ladies in waiting as we wondered which of the strapping young men after your hand you would accept. Imagine our surprise when you chose to keep it in the family," she said, only allowing some of the contempt she felt at the concept to drip into her voice. House Targaryen being free to engage in it was something that she did not mind all that much, but this lesser family, she could scarcely countenance. The fact that her husband insisted on doing nothing about it made her all the more enraged as the grasping Velaryons were allowed another opportunity to pretend to be greater than what they were in truth.
"Well, Laenor was the most eligible man in all the realm, so why would I not want him, my Queen? I am sure you can understand the appeal," the girl said. Allicent just scoffed internally but did not allow the sentiment to spread on to her face.
"Then I will congratulate you on a good match. I am sure you will both make each other very happy," she said.
"Thank you, my Queen."
—
She looked around the room she had been given with a sliver of amazement that she did well to bury deep in her stomach. She would not allow any of their hosts to know that she had been taken aback by the accommodations. Her expectations had been set by the knowledge that Bloodstone had been home to pirates for decades and even before that had been naught but a military installation.
It was not a castle designed for hosting royalty. Laenor Velaryon had clearly taken some issue with its original purpose then. The outside of the castle and the inside seemed to be night and day. The outside spoke of a fortress designed to inspire fear. Utilitarian to its core in that respect. But then the inside was lined with carpets in some places. Every hallway had some tapestry or portrait or even just a mural painted into the stone itself to draw attention.
Her room was next to her husband's and was not close to her quarters in the Red Keep when it came to size. But that was the only respect in which her chambers beat this one. The centrepiece was the mirror which was so tall and wide that she could see her whole body in it at once without even having to walk so far back that it was a struggle to make out the representation in the mirror itself.
And beyond that, there were the tapestries on the wall, and then the bed that she had laid on for a few minutes to test it out and almost had fallen asleep from just how comfortable it was. Weeks at sea had left her without much resistance to this level of comfort. And then there was the bathroom. When the servant had explained the self-cleaning chamber pot— which she called a toilet for some reason— she had almost called her a liar. But then she had activated it and Allicent had struggled to close her mouth as water came from a hole and then flowed down into some sort of drain at the bottom with so much force that it would have carried away whatever had been put into the pot.
And then the taps for the bath and the shower head for the shower had forced her mouth open all over again. So many luxuries in what was essentially a guest bedroom. So this was the kind of comfort that the Velaryons lived in on a daily basis. The provided soaps, creams, and perfumes smelt even better than what she had packed with her from King's Landing— fare that a merchant had assured her was the best in Lys put to shame by what House Velaryon offered for free. It might sting her pride to do it, but she would not be leaving without finding out where those soaps came from.
She tore her thoughts away from the pleasurable bathing experience she had just had— water constantly raining from the ceiling was an innovative way of cleansing one's body. The knock on her door told her enough time had been spent waiting and she had to get ready for dinner.
"Enter," she said, welcoming the servants who would dress her for dinner. There were days until the wedding would begin, and for this period, they would be guests of House Velaryon.
—
She looked around the table with some apprehension. The place at the head of the table had been given to her husband as the King. She was sat at the opposite end of the table as the Queen and while it should have been a place of honour, all she could see was that Laenor Velaryon sat to her husband's right hand side, and the old man Boremund Baratheon sat to his left. For the Old Storm to come out of his castle for this wedding was a message.
Tourneys had been held for the births of both her children and even for her own wedding ceremony. The Baratheon Lord had pleaded being too ill to make all those journeys. But here he stood— or sat rather— now, having journeyed miles at sea, spending multiple nights living beneath the deck of a ship. The message was clear. This is worth my time, but all the things prior had not been. She wondered if her father was right now. Was there truly a chance that it would happen? And if it did, would the Baratheons hold to their oaths? She would have said no to the former and yes to the latter in a heartbeat before seeing the parts of the city she had, and the inside of this castle.
With wealth like this and the three most powerful tamed dragons in the world on his side, there was every chance that Laenor Velaryon was wondering why he bent the knee to anyone at all.
"The city is beautiful, Cousin. I have half a mind to give you an appointment to the small Council and set you to work doing the same to King's Landing," Viserys said with a smile at the man who sat to his right.
Laenor Velaryon just chuckled.
"It is like this because of the lessons I learned from King's Landing. Aegon wanted to build a great city the likes of nothing else in Westeros. But he closed his eyes one day, and the next there were thousands at his gate. With the benefit of knowing what would come, we might have decided differently— you and I— but can we blame him for choosing to open them?" he asked with a smile.
"I agree. But perhaps he could have exercised more care in how they were harboured. More temporary housing and less slums like Flea Bottom," her husband said, crinkling his nose.
"Why not remove the peasants then if they displease you so much?" the Old Storm asked with a grunt, not sounding like he held much respect for her husband. House Baratheon had voted for Laenor Velaryon at the Great Council, she reminded herself.
"It would be far too cruel. And the expense? Enough to beggar a Great Lord," Laenor Velaryon said with a shake of his head. The old man just chuckled.
"You imagine constructing new accommodation outside the city for them, yes? Housing them until the city's section can be rebuilt? That would be where the bulk of your costs would come from," he said.
"Of course."
"I said remove them, not pamper them. The peasants can afford a moon or two in the fields. Others of their ilk do so all the time," he said, and the conversation seemed to stall from there.
A/N: The wedding bells be ringing. Next four chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.