29 Chapter 29: On Matters of State - 112 AC

The morning bustles with activity within Crab's Return. Servants scurried through the corridors with purpose, attending to the needs of the noble guests occupying chambers bestowed upon them by the lord of the domain. Meanwhile, others diligently prepared for the evening feast scheduled for the following night. Amidst this flurry of tasks, Lady Laena and Princess Rhaenyra appeared relaxed, seated by a window with a view of the distant town. Before them rested an array of cakes and refreshing mint tea, poised for consumption.

"The castle seems to be filling up, fast." the princess remarked casually, taking a delicate sip of her tea. "Surely these noble lords possess ample wealth. One would assume they could secure lodgings in the town."

"Some do, princess," Laena replied with a shrug. "But with the welcoming feast set to take place here at the castle, most likely they found it more convenient to stay here."

"Or perhaps they're simply being frugal," the princess whispered mockingly, a smirk playing on her lips.

Laena merely giggled in response. "I could say the same of you."

"How dare you?" the princess exclaimed in jest, her expression exaggerated, before breaking into laughter along with her companion. She then indulged in a bite of the delectable cake before her, emitting a contented hum.

"This cake is exquisite," the princess murmured happily. "By the gods, everything here has been so... refreshing. Such unique flavors are a rarity in the Red Keep. Truth be told, Laena, I am tempted to persuade my father to entice your cooks to King's Landing with us."

Laena chuckled softly. "I cannot stop you from doing so, princess."

Leaning back in her chair, the princess observed the clear skies above with a faint smile. However, her countenance soon shifted, a hint of worry crossing her features—a change not lost on Laena.

"Is everything alright?" inquired the Lady of Claw Isle.

"I am fine, thank you for your concern," the princess replied half-heartedly, taking another sip of her tea. She paused for a moment before continuing, her tone thoughtful. "Laena, you've been married to your husband for several years now, correct?"

"Indeed," Laena confirmed, though her confusion grew regarding the direction of the conversation.

"Could you share your tale with me?" the princess pressed further. "Your story with your husband, that is."

Laena's confusion deepened. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Forgive me, but I lack awareness of the story of your union. Such discussions rarely grace my ears, and it has been quite some time since we engaged in deep conversation," the princess remarked. "Could it be an arranged marriage?"

"Oh, it's a rather complicated matter, Princess," Laena sighed. "Arranged marriage? I wouldn't quite characterize it as such."

Now it was the princess's turn to be confused. "I fail to grasp your meaning, Laena. Did you two marry for love, then?"

"I wouldn't claim that either," Laena shook her head. "It's more of a situation where he… forced my father into the match. Initially, I was betrothed to the son of the Sealord, but their family faced financial ruin, leaving my own house ensnared in a perpetual postponement of the marriage. My husband unexpectedly intervened by proposing to annul my betrothal by killing my then-betrothed in exchange for marrying me instead. The narrative extends beyond this of course, involving the Stepstones and the alliance forged between his house, mine, and Prince Daemon in the conflict against the Triarchy."

"That's certainly not the response I anticipated," the princess remarked with both amusement and intrigue. "So, your husband essentially waged war on your behalf? It sounds rather romantic, does it not?"

Laena merely chuckled. "When recounted in tales, it does carry a certain romantic allure. Yet, living through it is a whirlwind of emotions, Princess. The suddenness of it all, the rapidity with which the arrangement was reached, it's disorienting."

"Indeed, but one cannot disregard Ser Clement's gesture," the princess prodded for further insight. "Do you... harbor affection for him?"

"At the end of the day, we fulfill our duties, I have two sons and a daughter with him as you have seen them." Laena replied simply. "Nevertheless, I can admit to developing a fondness for him. He has proven to be a steadfast companion."

"I see…" the princess murmured, her thoughts drifting from the conversation.

"And what of you, Princess?" Laena inquired calmly. "Are you currently betrothed, or has someone captured your attention?"

Rhaenyra wore a faint smile. "I remain unbetrothed for the present. However, it appears my father is inclined to rectify that sooner rather than later."

"Oh?" Laena raised her brow, curious. "Can you speak of your… soon-to-be betrothed, pray tell?"

Rhaenyra sighed. "I suppose I can't speak of it yet. But you'll know it soon enough."

"Very well." Laena hummed. "Is it bothering you?"

"I harbor no desire for my existence to be reduced to mere breeding stock for royal successors," the princess confessed.

"But you are more than that," Laena interjected. "You are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

Rhaenyra regarded Laena with a distant gaze. "Am I really?"

"The realm has swore an oath to you," Laena affirmed. "Moreover, as the youngest dragonrider of the Targaryen dynasty, your worth is undeniable."

A faint smile graced the princess's lips as Laena gently clasped her hand. "I suppose you are correct."

"When you are of age, I presume you shall inherit Dragonstone?" Laena inquired softly.

"Naturally, for I am the princess of Dragonstone," Rhaenyra replied, rolling her eyes.

"Should you ever find solitude on that desolate isle, Claw Isle lies but a short flight away," Laena murmured, her hand tenderly caressing Rhaenyra's. "And I shall accompany you if you ever need it."

"That is very kind of you, Laena," Rhaenyra chuckled. "Thank you."

======

On the same day, as twilight approached, Lord Bartimos and Lord Corlys stood before the balcony, at the castle's peak, observing the sun's descent beyond the horizon. Within their grasp were goblets, brimming halfway with wine, and they exchanged pleasantries while awaiting the arrival of another man, the one who had beckoned them hither initially.

However, their wait was brief, for the balcony door swiftly swung open, revealing King Viserys with an austere countenance, unaccompanied. The two lords bowed before their sovereign, and the king approached them, a smile softening his erstwhile stern visage.

"I extend my gratitude for heeding my summons at this hour, Lord Bartimos, Lord Corlys. Particularly you, Lord Bartimos, amidst your preparations for tomorrow's feast."

"We shall always make time for your summons, your grace," Lord Bartimos responded, his demeanor genteel.

Meanwhile, Lord Corlys poured another serving of wine, proffering it to the king. "Wine, your grace?"

"Thank you," the king acknowledged with a smile, accepting the goblet and taking a sip, before adopting a more somber demeanor. "I have convened you here today to address a weighty matter concerning our great Valyrian houses."

"And what matter is that, your grace?" Corlys inquired with a hint of feigned ignorance.

The king chuckled lightly in self-deprecation. "Lord Corlys, we've had our differences, and our relationship has been strained over the past decade because of so. That is precisely why I propose a union between your son, Laenor, and my daughter and heir, Rhaenyra. It is time for our houses to unite, preserving one of the final remnants of Old Valyria."

Corlys straightened his back. "You honor me and my house, your grace. Though, I wish to discuss the matters on which the succession is to be dealt with before I could discuss it further with my wife."

Viserys frowned. "Whatever do you mean, Lord Corlys?"

Maintaining a composed demeanor, Lord Corlys continued, "May I assume that according to Westerosi tradition, their children would bear their father's name, Velaryon?"

The king's frown deepened. "Are you implying that the Targaryen dynasty ends with my daughter, Lord Corlys?"

Corlys merely smiled in response to the accusation. "I seek only clarity, your grace."

With a soft sigh, the king massaged his temple before taking another sip of wine. "In accordance with tradition, their children will bear the name Velaryon. However, once their firstborn ascends to the Iron Throne, he or she will adopt the name Targaryen."

"An equitable compromise," Corlys acknowledged with a nod. "Your grace, you have presented me with a gracious proposal. However, I must consult with my wife, Princess Rhaenys, before providing a final answer. Nevertheless, rest assured, I am in agreement with this betrothal; it is only a matter of time."

"Very well," the king murmured, visibly relieved as the tension eased from his expression. As the king turned his attention to Bartimos, Corlys excused himself to the table to refill his wine. "Regarding your matter, Lord Bartimos, it is high time I must address your… request. It seems I have put it aside for too long, and I apologize for leaving your house starved for an answer."

"Your grace, I must admit my request overreaches the bounds of my station as a servant of the realm," Bartimos remarked with a deferential nod. "Please, take all the time you need to consider your decision."

The king exhaled heavily. "I have made my decision. In light of your granddaughter's Targaryen blood through Princess Rhaenys, she shall be granted a dragon egg alongside her cradle, but as you know, it is not a guarantee that the egg will hatch, only the gods have an answer for that. You or your son is to sail to King's Landing and visit the dragonpit, to pick one egg yourself."

Bartimos was genuinely taken aback. "I... Thank you sincerely for this gracious decision, your grace. You honor me and my house in a manner we could never have dreamed."

Viserys nodded, though he had more to add. "However, I also ask that your newborn granddaughter, Rhaena Celtigar, be betrothed to my son, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Just as I sought to unite my house with Lord Corlys, I see this betrothal as a means to strengthen the bonds of kinship between our ancient houses, the last vestiges of Old Valyria. I understand it's an early arrangement, but I intend to see it through to marriage."

Bartimos's astonishment grew. "Y-Your grace... Today, you have bestowed upon me and my house honors beyond measure. I cannot adequately express my gratitude for your generous proposal—nay, your gift."

"That warms my heart, Lord Bartimos," Viserys said with a satisfied smile. "Henceforth, the Valyrians of Blackwater Bay stand united as never before. May this union between our three houses pave the way for a new Valyria in these lands, perhaps even stronger than the Valyria of old."

Moved by the sentiment, Corlys raised his goblet in a toast. "To a bright future, your grace."

Viserys chuckled softly, raising his own cup alongside Lord Bartimos. "Indeed."

======

"What?" The question pierced the quiet of midnight as the warm breeze caressed the Celtigars' private chambers. Gathered within were the esteemed adults of the family: Lord Bartimos and his brother Gormond, accompanied by the heir Clement and his wife Laena. The candlelight danced fervently as Clement, with a blend of anxiety and confusion, posed the simple inquiry.

"I must confess, I had not foreseen such an outcome," Bartimos remarked with a broad smile, having just divulged the result of his private audience with the king. "His grace has bestowed upon us his benevolence, it seems his favor exceeds my expectations."

"That does sound remarkably promising," Gourmand remarked casually, his demeanor poised as he sipped his wine. "Congratulations, nephew. It appears your desires have been realized, with an added bonus. Those discussions about the Targaryens refusing marriage with the Celtigar now seem antiquated."

Clement merely murmured, his earlier apprehension lingering. Hastening to the wine table, he poured himself a drink, downing it in one gulp.

"What?" Bartimos frowned, observing Clement's expression. "Are you not content? Does your ambition truly know no limits—"

"Why did you accept without consulting me, father?" Clement interjected abruptly, startling everyone present.

"What was there to decline?" His father countered, puzzled by his son's reaction. "The king proposed that your daughter be betrothed to Prince Aemond, a tremendous honor, I might add. You cannot simply reject the king, my son."

"I do not request refusal, but rather delay in response to consult with me," Clement argued. "This... complicates matters."

"I fail to grasp your meaning," Laena inquired.

"Prince Aemond is…" Clement stutters for a moment. "We have been bound to the Queen's side of the Targaryen family. Do you know what that means? Have you been to the king's court lately? Notice the dresses? The factions currently forming?"

"Are you referring to the succession?" Laena furrowed her brow. "The realm swore oaths—"

"Oath holds little weight, Laena," Clement interrupted, turning to his father. "Father, you participated in the great council years ago. You supported Laenor's claim, and it failed spectacularly. Laenor hailed from the female line of Targaryens, yet he still faltered. Do you truly believe now a woman could ascend to the Iron Throne uncontested? Do you think Rhaenyra, a woman, would take it without challenge?"

"And thus, with Rhaena's early betrothal, we inadvertently align ourselves with a candidate that could challenge it," Gormond sighed.

Clement emitted a soft hum. "Not necessarily in alignment with it, but... yes."

"I fail to understand you, my son," Bartimos shook his head wearily. "I had presumed this was your desire."

"It is indeed what I desired, father," Clement murmured. "I simply wished you had consulted me beforehand, rather than rushing into things prematurely. Nevertheless, what's done is done. We have attained our objective, and we'll salvage what remains. It may even turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Now you see, father, Claw Isle may soon be graced by another dragon, a hatchling this time, perhaps one that will grow to lay even more eggs. I apologize for my earlier outburst; perhaps I am too deeply entrenched in the perpetual politicking that I cannot control my emotions."

"You should rest," Bartimos replied with a mere smile, patting his son's shoulder. "Over the past decade, you have accomplished so much for our house that I find myself questioning who the true lord of this place is. I suggest that after these festivities, you simply stay at the castle and enjoy the company of your family. Trust me, son, you will miss these days when they are but distant memories in your old age."

With those words, Bartimos walked past Clement towards the chamber's exit, leaving the room behind.

"I believe I should depart as well, leaving you two to converse," Gormond murmured, placing his cup on the table and following suit, exiting the chamber.

Now, silence blanketed the room, with only the gentle flicker of candles and the whisper of the wind outside breaking the quiet. Clement sighed softly as he made his way to his bed, gently massaging his temples. Before long, Laena joined him, sitting beside her husband.

"If your predictions come to fruition and conflict arises, what course of action would you take?" Laena inquired softly, a bit of anxiousness in her voice.

"If conflict can be avoided, then we shall steer clear of it," Clement countered. "Do you expect me to encourage it and take sides?"

Laena fell silent for a moment. "And what of our daughter?"

"Let us hope that the betrothal remains unfulfilled if and when conflict arises," Clement murmured. "Perhaps it will not occur at all, and I am merely overthinking it. Nonetheless, I will devise a plan if that is not the case, as I always do."

"Your words lack assurance now, husband," Laena said softly, holding Clement's hand and stroking it gently.

Clement chuckled softly. "I am never confident when faced with an uncertain future."

Laena shook her head. "You speak as if you have foreknowledge of what is to come previously."

Clement gazed at her, smiled, then kissed her briefly before withdrawing. "Let us rest for the night; I grow weary of these weighty conversations."