Chapter 29: Interlude - Sweet

Silk pennants waved overhead; a pride of lions racing with the wind; direwolves, stags, falcons of Arryn, and sigils of every color and thing fluttering.

The knights sat proud and tall upon their saddles, their armor made resplendent by the sunlow. Their horses were dressed in fine barding—white for Ser Barristan Selmy, and a smoky grey for Ser Brynden Tully. Both men were strong, lean, and graceful as they bowed to her father, before bringing their horses to opposite ends of the field. Ser Byrnden's cloak—the blue-and-red of House Tully—flowed behind him, fastened by a clasp of obsidian and gold in the shape of a black fish.

The Kingsguard wore Mother's favor, while Ser Brynden had tied a yellow and black silk scarf around his arm. Lances and helms both were lowered, and Rhaella watched with bated breath.

Then the warhorns sounded, low then loud, and the hooves sounded like a storm upon the plain. Their lances shattered with a thunderous crash, but neither man was unhorsed. Again and again and again they came at each other, the cheering louder each time until after thirteen broken lances, Ser Barristan the Bold triumphed over the Blackfish.

Her Bonnifer might have bested either of them, before he'd— Rhaella brought her hands together politely. The courtiers behind Rhaella stood and clapped for the fine knights on display. On the opposite stands, Myriah and her son Doran were cheering quite loudly among the Dornish lords, while Rhaella spied Joanna offering a more subdued clapping as she shared words with her cousin Genna. They seemed more interested in the women present rather than the men.

"If he accepted, he would've made a good Kingsguard," Father mumurred to Mother.

"It isn't a total waste. He'll make a fine addition still to your new order," Mother said. "And judging by whose favor he wears, you might get away giving the third white cloak to someone else… mayhaps that boy from Tarth?"

"Mayhaps," Father said, leaning into his high-backed redwood chair, "though we already have two stormlanders with Sers Barristan and Harlan, but no riverlanders."

"Our good-brother lost many men in the fighting," Mother said.

"He did, but he won no great victories, and there is a need to balance what few rewards we can dole out."

Rhaella frowned. "Well you've two white cloaks to give still, don't you?" she found herself asking.

Father considered her with sharp purple eyes—the healthiest thing about his appearance. "Only one in truth, my sweetling. Ser Reynard Reyne will be offered one at tonight's feast."

Joanna won't like that, Rhaella thought. "Why him?" Rhaella asked. "You're already honoring House Lannister by inducting Ser Kevan into your order and marrying my brother to Joanna." How could those Reynes be trusted to guard their future queen if they were already her enemies?

"Houses Lannister and Reyne do not see eye to eye in all things," Father said, smiling kindly at her, "nor can I ignore House Reyne's service during the war."

"But there are many knights more deserving, surely?" Rhaella asked, knowing the names of those men by heart. "Sers Rodrick Cassel, Marthew Crakehall, and Tristifer Coldfalls are all unmarried, and acquitted themselves well in battle, or so I've heard."

"All fine warriors, and with them to guard Aerys and you, I would fear for nothing," Father said. "But the Kingsguard are meant to be more than our shields. They are a means of securing the armies of our most powerful bannermen too, and the Reynes are second only to the Lannisters in the westerlands."

Rhaella frowned. "But they are Lord Tytos' bannermen."

"There is little love," Father said, "between Casterly Rock and Castamere as of late, and the Reynes should not be underestimated. Lord Roger is well-liked in the west, and counts on many men as his friends, while freeriders, hedge knights, and sellswords would gladly fight for such a warrior. With time, he might raise a host of over eight thousand men. Should they take to opposite sides in a war, the westerlands would be neutered."

"The Reynes played a part in encircling the Golden Company and the last of the Band of Nine too," Mother added.

Father nodded. "If not for them, the westerland host might have fallen into disarray during the final moments of battle, and some of our enemies may have escaped us. Lelouch was wise to have them take the reins."

Rhaella bobbed her head and turned her gaze to the row of pavilions, combing through the new set of shields hung before each. It was the second day of tourneys, and she'd yet to see Lelouch's sigil show itself. Perhaps he was competing elsewhere? There were hundreds of lords and knights competing that they'd had to set up multiple fields to accommodate all the tilts taking place for the whole week.

"Lelouch has a baseborn cousin, does he not?" Mother asked. "I've seen him around a few times… half-Dornish I believe? Good with a sword too and you have no crownlanders on the Kingsguard yet."

"They'd have a princess, a fiefdom, and a white cloak from us," Father said, straightening his back into a kingly posture. "If any house in Westeros is deserving of all three, it would be the Velaryons. Yet, some might whisper that we favor them too highly once we entrust the younger son with the largest of the Stepstone islands, while the north, the riverlands, and the Vale cannot call any of theirs a Kingsguard knight."

Mother had a thoughtful look on her face as a knight with a plum on his shield lost to the new Lord of Stonehelm, Gulian Swann. Many were the lords who did not think they'd come into their inheritance so early, if at all—especially those sworn directly to Storm's End, Highgarden, Riverrun, and the Iron Throne.

"You're thinking of offering Ser Rodrik wardenship over Dustspear, aren't you?" Mother asked.

"Not to House Martell?" Rhaella asked with surprise. "Princess Myriah tells me Dorne has long laid claim to that island."

"Her second son will become Lord of Serpentholm in time, and a Yronwood will be the guardian of Guardian isle for saving your brother's life," Father said. "But I would not give the Dornish, or any other region for that matter, three islands." He turned to Mother. "I am indeed considering him. The Starks have thinned of late, and do not have a spare cousin to grant a lordship to. Among the northmen, Ser Rodrik distinguished himself the most for his part in saving Aerys, but I worry he will fit in poorly in the south."

"Marry him to a Manderly then. Lord Manderly has a beloved niece—Donella," Mother said. "They follow the Seven, and are closest among the northerners to us. Their fleet and gold would both be a boon to him too as he establishes himself."

Father nodded as an Oakheart and Waynwood knight bowed to him. "An excellent idea."

"We could even do the same thing for the Freys," Mother said.

"The Freys accomplished little and less in the war, and did not provide that much men," Father said with a frown.

"His sons by his second wife—a Swann girl—fought ably enough. They stand to inherit nothing when he dies… have him marry one of them to Lord Gulian's sisters to reaffirm those ties, present it as honoring the sacrifices of the riverlands and stormlands both, then bleed his coffers dry," Mother said. "So as to not insult the other great houses and heroes, give them the poorest and smallest of the islands: Larazor's Rock."

As the second day's tilts came to end that afternoon, Ser Barristan's white enameled scales remained untarnished by dirt or defeat.

With the fall of night came feasting, and it was a boisterous affair with sweet music, and a spicy snake dish served on skewers.

"It goes well with the sour Dornish red," Myriah said as Rhaella coughed, feeling her face heating up. "Here."

Rhaella took a generous sip from the goblet she offered. "Thank you," she said. "I don't know what I'd do once you return to Sunspear." A beautiful woman in her thirties, Myriah was worldliest and most well-travelled among her friends.

"You'll be fine, I'm sure," Myriah said, gracing her with a smile that made her large dark eyes pop. "Spending a year at Driftmark before you marry will be a good experience for you. There is more to the world than the Red Keep and King's Landing, and Lelouch has made quite the effort bringing people from Essos to his new Spicetown."

"I cannot help but worry," Rhaella said.

"It's normal to worry your first time away from home," Myriah said. "I cried the first night I left Sunspear, when my parents sent me to Starfall as a girl. All we can do is take these things on one step at a time, one foot in front the other. Lelouch is a kind man, and no harm will come to you while in his care."

He could have lied to me, Rhaella thought, her eyes drifting to Lelouch seated on a lower table, in deep conversation with Omorfia Ayas. Many already whispered Cici was his lover. It would be so like Lelouch to make her think she was the only one who knew, but that didn't mean he was lying.

He could have lied, and he was certainly capable of it, but in that moment he'd confessed to her, Lelouch seemed… vulnerable, like a man baring his heart, fully expecting not to be believed.

Only time would tell the truth, she supposed.

Rhaella shook her head. "Are you watching the grand melee tomorrow, or the next round of the tilts?" Rhaella asked.

"The melee of course!" Myriah dipped her head towards Lelouch's table. "I would not miss it after hearing Donnall Waters is competing. He has caught the eye of some of my lords."

Rhaella frowned, turning to face her. "Why? What is a bastard from Driftmark to them?"

"He is half-Dornish by birth," Myriah said, "and my people take great pride in seeing our natural sons and daughters rising to great heights."

The Dornish always were strangely unashamed of bastards and paramours. "Speaking of sons, I see yours is here," she said.

Doran was seated further up the table between Aerys and the fair-skinned Prince Consort Manrel Nymeros Martell, brother to the Lord of Kingsgrave. He was three and ten, and shared Myriah's lovely olive complexion and slender build, but inherited the thick black hair of his Stony Dornishman father.

"Doran's grown so much since I last saw him," Myriah said, pleased as a peacock, "and handsome too!"

Mothers, Rhaella thought ruefully. Doran was easy enough on the eyes, she supposed, but hardly comparable to her brother. Would she be the same when she had a son of her own? "He squires for Lord Gargalen, doesn't he?"

"That's right," Myriah said, "but I fear not for much longer."

Rhaella raised a brow questioningly.

"Like my brother, the Dornish wanderlust is strong in him," Myriah said. "He yearns to see the sights of Essos, and the ancient lands of the Rhoynar."

"Now does not seem the best time for such foreign adventures," Rhaella said. Volantis had seized more and more land with each Valyrian victory during the Rhoynish Wars, and while a peace had been signed with them, they were not likely to see Westeros as a dear friend. As for the other Free Cities like Norvos and Qohor, he would be in even greater danger visiting those places.

"I've told him as much, but boys will be boys," Myriah said. "Mayhaps I'll arrange something for him in King's Landing? It might temper his wanderlust for the moment."

"My father speaks of needing a new Lord Commander for the City Watch," Rhaella said. "If Lord Gargalen proves able, perhaps something there could be arranged?"

"He'll teach them discipline if nothing else," Myriah said, sipping at her wine. "Thank you for the suggestion. I'll ask the king if he's amenable when he's free."

From the corner of her eyes, Rhaella spotted Father sharing words with her brother. No doubt explaining his choices in the Stepstones. "I spoke to Father earlier, and he said he was giving Dorne two islands, but not Dustspear."

"That doesn't surprise me," Myriah said.

Rhaella blinked. "Really?"

"He means to keep the Stepstones as a unified region, and perhaps fears placing a Dornishman in charge of Dustspear might invite secession from whichever Lord Paramount he appoints in the end," Myriah said.

"You think he will raise a Lord Paramount?" Rhaella asked. Father had made no mention of that so far...

"Eventually, yes," Myriah said. "The Stepstones are too far from King's Landing that every dispute can be settled by coming before the Iron Throne, and there will be plenty of those with how he's distributing those lands. If not a Lord Paramount, then he ought to let those new lords swear fealty to Sunspear or Storm's End, but there has been no talk of such things."

It made a certain amount of sense, but… "Would quarrelsome bannermen not leave the Lord Paramount of the Stepstones weakened?"

Myriah smiled wryly. "I suspect that's his intent, yes. It's a fine balance, empowering the Stepstone lords enough that they can hold the islands for the Iron Throne, but not so much that they might think to defy the Iron Throne. If the lords all have conflicting loyalties, they'll not be eager to back their Lord Paramount in some foolhardy rebellion."

"The thought of being passed over does not anger you?" Rhaella asked.

"It would take a vast fortune to properly fortify those islands, and more people than Dorne can spare to populate them. I would not refuse if I were offered dominion over the Stepstones, but I am not blind to the dangers of doing so."

There was a lull in the feast when her father stood to address the lords. He spoke in some length of House Reyne's role during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, how they'd helped ably lead the westerland host during Naqes and the Battle of Three Armies. Reynard Reyne was offered the white cloak, and his acceptance was a foregone conclusion. Father would not have made a public show if he was not sure the man would accept.

The room was filled with cheers, but from Joanna, there was only chillingly polite applause.

-ZeroRequiem-

By the fourth day, there remained a hundred and twenty-eight knights left competing to crown a queen of love and beauty… or to be more accurate, the prize of forty thousand dragons. High lords, true knights, and brave champions from all the Seven Kingdoms were all that remained now. Her brother continued to bring Joanna's red favor forward in the tilts, and Lelouch continued to elude her save at the feasts. The only man from Driftmark who seemed to have survived elimination was Ser Beren Bryne, a minor lord's second son.

Even now, while the Ironborn and Redwyne ships maneuvered against each other on the banks of the Blackwater beneath the hot spring sun, Lelouch was not besides her explaining what she was watching.

Joanna raised her hand, and a servant came scuttling over with four tall glasses of cooled sweet wine and a cluster of large, ripe grapes. As she handed one to Rhaella, she said, "This halt in the tilts is a blessing. I haven't spoken much to Aerys in the last three days since he's been so busy with the jousts at day and speaking with the king at night."

The betrothals would be announced at the end of the feast, Rhaella knew, and it was all but certain now.

"Have you any plans with him for this afternoon?" Genna Lannister asked. Why she'd been invited by Joanna Rhaella understood, but not that of tall Malora Hightower. She had not known the Lannisters and Hightowers to be close friends—they were rivals if anything, with Lord Tymore a font of support for Uncle Ormund's faction.

"He wanted to visit the Dragonpit," Joanna said, "then I believe we'll be watching the archery competition."

"Is that the only event Lelouch is competing in?" Rhaella asked.

"I believe so," Joanna said. "He wanted to give his hand some time to heal, but he can't very well compete in the squire's tourney."

The squire's tourney was to be held on the morning of the seventh day, before the final jousts to decide the tourney champion. "My brothers Gartha and Baelor are entering that," said Malora, a far-eyed look on her face as she watched longships and dromonds dance their dance. "Corwyn too."

"So is my brother," Genna said. "Tygett was praised highly for slaying two men at Naqes and two more at the Battle of Three Armies. It's a shame he's too young to be knighted."

Her younger cousin Steffon too hadn't been knighted during the mass ceremony held after Naqes.

"It's only a matter of time," Joanna said.

Rhaella turned her eyes back to the mock sea battle. It would have to be one Lelouch commanded in surely, for the greatest stories came from the most unexpected victories. Seafyre or Storm? she pondered. The key feature of Seafyre had been the wildfire ploy, while Storm had taken advantage of the weather—neither of which were practical to recreate. As for the more intricate maneuvering, she could not bring herself to remember what had occurred.

The princess cursed her own inattention to Pycelle's droning monologues.

"Harlaw's silver scythe, the Greyjoy kraken, and… a drowned man with fishes on green?" Genna asked, naming the sigils flying from the ships.

"House Sunderly," Rhaella said. It had been one of the houses from the Iron Islands Father had mentioned.

"Redwyne and Tyrell too," Joanna said. "Do you suppose the king means to induct them all into his new order like he did Kevan?"

"It would make sense," Malora said. "Father has spoken of betrothing me to a Redwyne or Luthor Tyrell—the son of the late Ser Moryn."

"Three islands for the Ironborn though?" Joanna mused. "The Ironborn have benefitted much from their friendship with Lelouch."

Rhaella shook her head. "No, Father wouldn't grant any region more than two islands. At least one of the Ironborn won't be getting one."

"Lord Quellon's children are all by a Sunderly woman," Malora said.

Genna popped a juicy grape into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Perhaps a Sunderly regent for one of Lord Quellon's children? They're all still too young to rule in their own right."

"Greyjoy, Harlaw, Redwyne, and Tyrell then," Joanna said, opening her silken fan from the far east.

"I dread to think of what a terror the Ironborn will become," Genna said, "if allowed to establish too strong a presence on the narrow sea."

"My father isn't pleased with it either," Malora said, brushing away a stray blonde hair from her eye. "It's a threat to Oldtown's eastern trade routes, and our fleet does not compare to the Arbor's."

"With any luck, they'll be given the smaller islands—Larazor's Rock or Tor." Genna paused. "Whoever comes to rule that island really ought to change the name. There's a castle in Dorne called that as well I believe."

Joanna bobbed her head in agreement. "Well, enough about this. Have any of you spoken to Kiren Velaryon? What's she like?"

"Lelouch's cousin?" Rhaella asked. Was Joanna worried of her stealing Aerys away? Lord Jaron had tried it after Seafyre, but it hadn't borne fruit. "I've only shared a passing word with her."

Malora and Genna shook their heads.

"That's a shame," Joanna said. "I suppose I'll just have to talk to her myself then. Mayhaps I'll invite her to see the new sept?"

"Which one?" Malora asked. "The Sept of Many Colors or the Sept of Spring?"

Those septs had not yet been built, but the High Septon had commissioned a scale model of each built to show the highborn of Westeros. It would be the first time ones of such size would be built in Tyrosh and Lys respectively.

"The Tyroshi one," Joanna said. "Lelouch had a larger hand in getting that one to be built, didn't he? Convinced the Archon of Tyrosh to pay for it all too."

"I didn't think Lelouch was so devout," Rhaella said. He'd never spoken much about the Faith or the gods in private conversation, not like Bonnifer did. The one time she could recall, when they'd first met, the words seemed more like a curse spat from Lelouch's lips.

"He did help start the Sacred Struggle, though I don't think he's the pious sort exactly," Joanna said, shutting her fan and setting it aside.

"Really?" Rhaella asked, leaning forward in interest. "Why do you think he lead the Sacred Struggle then, if not for piety?"

Genna held a grape between her fingers. "I think he did it to increase his stock with the High Septon," she said, before popping the grape into her mouth.

"Isn't he already well-liked by the Faith?" Rhaella asked.

"Very much so," Malora said. "The only reason he hasn't been declared a Blessed is because he isn't dead. Abolishing slavery in three Free Cities, getting two grand septs built, leading the Sacred Struggle, even giving up a small fortune to feed the newly freed… the only thing left for him to do now is to reinstate the Warrior's Sons and the Poor Fellows."

"Well," Genna said, "whatever he plans for Essos, it seems the Faith will play a major part in it."

"Far less likely to scare the other Free Cities if the flags flown from Tyrosh to Lys bear the seven-pointed star instead of the seahorse," Joanna added. "As for the slaves, he's brought many of them to Driftmark under the guise of charity, but I wouldn't be surprised if many of them ended up creating industries with House Velaryon's backing. It's a clever ploy that will yield his house gold in the coming years."

"Do none of you think he did all those things not for personal gain, but out of genuine faith?" Rhaella asked.

Joanna frowned. "Well, of course not—not that it's a mark against him, he's not some heathen. It's just his personal piety—not the mummery he puts on for court—isn't exactly a match for Baelor the Blessed, is it? I don't think I've ever heard him go to a sept to pray before daybreak, his vigil aside."

"Everything he does has been to improve his house's standing," Genna said, admiration bleeding into her voice.

Power for power's sake… was that the sum of Lelouch Velaryon?

-ZeroRequiem-

It was more happenstance than anything else that found her seated next to Omorfia. Joanna and Aerys had yet to return from the Dragonpit when Rhaella arrived too early for the archery competition. The targets had just been set up, and it would be another half-hour before the ten thousand dragons could be fought over.

The Myrish girl remained exotic and sensual as ever in a daring dress of silk and lace that showed altogether too much leg. "Your Grace, it's good to see you again," Omorfia said.

"I have a question for you, if you don't mind," Rhaella said.

"Of course, Your Grace—"

"Call me Rhaella."

Omorfia nodded. "I'd be happy to be of assistance to you, Princess Rhaella."

"Where is Cici now?" Rhaella asked. She hadn't seen the green-haired woman in King's Landing, not that Lelouch was fool enough to bring her to an assembly of lords like this, but it could be she was hiding somewhere in the city, or in Driftmark.

"In Myr," Omorfia answered, "with my grandfather and that little boy of hers."

"She has a son?" A bastard? Rhaella's throat dried.

Omorfia laughed. "Oh, not at all, Your Grace. Varys and Serra are orphaned children she found in Lys. She took a liking to them, and brought them to Driftmark with her. They're much too old to be her children by Lelouch at least."

Rhaella swallowed. "What is Cici doing in Myr?" Had she been sent away?

"Keeping an eye on things," Omorfia said, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. "Myr is still reeling from the treacherous poisoning of Magister Glossos, and Lelouch needed someone he could trust in the city. She'll be there for a few months at least."

"What?" Rhaella asked, face twisting into a befuddled one. Her father kept counsel with Mother in many things, but he would never send her to a foreign city and act on her own volition...

"It is odd, I admit. Such freedoms are often reserved only for highborn women in Essos," Omorfia said. "Lelouch places great trust in Cici to act on his behalf, and I suppose it makes some sense. She has as much reason to despise slavery as he does."

"She was a slave?"

"When they first met, yes," Omorfia said, "though he went to great lengths trying to free her from the beginning. I suspect he only stayed in Myr for so long because of her."

There was no benefit for Lelouch Velaryon to sacrifice so much for a slave. "Have you heard of the grand septs being built in Tyrosh and Lys?" Rhaella asked. When Omorfia nodded, she continued, "Why is it you think Lelouch pushed for them?"

"Your Faith of the Seven is one of the few religions that abhors slavery in all its forms," Omorfia said. "Establishing it as the dominant faith will forever put an end to the practice."

"You think he did it to end slavery?" Rhaella asked.

"Not at first. It started off as theater," Omorfia said, "but my grandfather is convinced something changed of late. Lelouch went to some length making sure the Lyseni would not enslave their own people after the magisters were all killed. That he did not have to do."

For his uncle's ignoble capture, Lelouch brought fire and blood to the Three Daughters for over a year, until Liomond Lashare was finally defeated. He was a man who could hold a grudge… but also one that was willing to go great lengths for his family, for those he loved and cherished.

Slavery was abhorrent, so the septons preached, but how many lords went to the same lengths Lelouch did to see those people freed? How many lords would have given up a fortune, housing freed men and small folk, when it could not be paid off without years of labor? When those same men and women were free to leave?

Did he do all of it for Cici? Rhaella couldn't help but think… What would Lelouch do if he felt that way about me?

When Lelouch arrived with a tall bow of white wood, he did not head for the targets immediately. Instead, he caught her eye, approached, and asked for her favor.

She gave it to him, and he swept aside all who stood in his way with ease.