The Lion and the Rose, Epilogue POV
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  The Lion and the Rose, Epilogue POV
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Author Topic: The Lion and the Rose, Epilogue POV  (Read 591 times)
Lumine
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« on: October 24, 2015, 07:12:33 PM »
« edited: October 24, 2015, 07:20:00 PM by Lumine »

Epilogue: Visenya Targaryen:


317 AL:



I


-Little princess, I beg of you… put attention to this particular lesson.- The elder Brune sounded as tired as ever – It’s important that we get this out of the way before your celebration. –

Visenya looked at him with the usual tedium. Given her already excellent relationship with the Lord Commander she had wanted Ser Jorah to be the one to give her lessons on politics, but her aunt had been insistent that Ser Jorah could not perform such tasks. They had given him the Warden of the Blackwater, old Lord Brune instead, and she was less than thrilled at his lessons. It was to be her fifteen nameday and she knew all about the great families who would be coming or sending an embassy, why was she forced to go through this all over again?

-But my lord, I have heard this lesson again and again, must we talk about those boring Lords again?-
-We must, Princess, we must. – He said, stern – What else would you rather learn about? –
-About knights! – She shouted, remembering all those old books she liked to consult that had once belonged to maesters Cressen and Pylos – I want to hear about Aemon the Dragonknight, and my namesake fighting Aegon II, or, or about the conquest of Dorne! Those are the histories of my family that matter, not these minor squabbles between lords.-
-Then, if the Princess indeed knows all about these lords, could she tell me who the Greyjoy envoy is? -
-Eaasy one, Lord Brune. – She mocked him – Harlan Pyke, the Turncloak’s bastard. –
-Ah, I would not utter those words in front of him... or in front of the King. –

Everybody knew the King Consort – for Visenya never found it proper to call him uncle – truly disliked bastards. Whereas her aunt had proved more tolerant and had even allowed Lord Edric to remain Lord Paramount despite his bastardy, a proud son of Old Valyria could not be asked to tolerate bastards. She, proud of her Dornish heritage found it easy to deal and talk to them, unlike the Valyrian King. The hotheaded Mantarys Paenymion, as little Visenya had heard, would never have been a suitable choice for a King consort in normal circumstances, but with most of the high lords dead after the wars and with all the Lords Paramount agreeing not to marry the Queen to offset the balance of power, the Queen had been forced to choose. With Hobber Redwyne to be inserted on the Kingsguard, she had to choose between young Denys Redwyne and the Volantene Lord, and choosing to strengthen the blood of the succession Denys had been elevated to power, but it was Mantarys who had reached the Queen’s bed… Visenya found them to be as happy as an arranged coupled could be, but she often wondered – yet not asked, for her aunt did not allow it – about the other marriages of Daenerys. What a collection of husbands!

-My lord? –
-Yes, Princess? –
-If my count is right, my aunt had three other husbands, right? – She asked, wondering on whether the old lord would finally give some details -
-I see you are in a combative mood… - He sighed – But there is no point in avoiding it. Her first husband, strange as it may sound, was a Dothraki Khal, the great Khal Drogo. He died around the same time the Queen had a miscarriage, that of Draego.-
-Is it true the second was some nobleman from Meereen? –
-Indeed, a scion of old blood… His name escapes me, but it was the Lord Commander himself who put him to death.-
-Oh, I must ask all about it to Ser Jorah! – She said, almost forgetting the final one – And… the imp? –
-Yes, it was a match to surprise us all back then. – Brune laughed for the first time – It did not last long, but it was a memorable way to putting old hatred behind. And speaking of hatred, we should begin our lesson with the reconciliation with the Starks…-

Ah, that. Everybody knows about that… Visenya had heard countless times of the tale of the surviving Starks coming together after the war, and how her aunt had been forced to leave her own misgivings against the Starks behind. Linked as they were to Arryns, Manderlys and other Houses she could not move against them, and as a result they had ended on major positions of power. The famously beautiful Sansa, called the Just, the woman with the iron will to put the Riverlands back in place after years of strike. Brandon the Greenseer, who was said to see visions in his dreams and that had put some order in the still depopulated North. And Rickon the Fierce, the legendary Prince of Skagos who was worshipped like a god. She knew about them as the songs were many, but truth be told she had never been interested in the North. It was evil that had come from there, and to an evil place she did not wish to go.

-There is not much left to say about the brilliant commanders of the West and the Vale, perhaps, but there is no man who does not know about Jaime the Kingslayer and Harold the Falcon. Even after death, their sons seem to be interested in following up the warlike tendencies of their fathers…-
-Idiots, that’s what they are. – She answered, remembering the boys and girls who made up the heirs to the regions –
-Princess! –
-Oh, please, my lord… I would never call them that, but clever they are not… Well, except Alys, and perhaps Tyrion.-

If there was a bright idea suggested by the late Robert Cafereen when he was Hand of the King was his attempts to make the sons and daughters of the Lords Paramount meet each other, which caused some pretty strong bonds to appear. Most had seemed unimpressive to someone as hyperactive as Visenya, but her friendship to Alys Arryn was as strong as they come. Not finding the girls that interesting she was also in excellent terms with Tyrion Lannister, son of the Kingslayer, and Ser Mern Costayne, the first for his towering intellect and the second for his courage, earning him a knighthood at a young age after saving the other Princes from a Bravoosi assassin. But it was their fathers, the Lords, which had earned fame through the last years as Daenerys and her vassals tries to put Westeros back in place after realizing Essos would have to fend off by itself. Such a different and interesting world… But she knew then all, the Stark brothers ruling the Riverlands and the North, Asha Greyjoy and her kraken armada guarding the seas for her aunt, the dashing and brainless Damon Lannister and Jon Arryn coming of age in Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Horas Redwyne loosely ruling the Reach and Edric Baratheon serving as a constant source of concerns to the court, concerns which Visenya found ridiculous on account of Edric’s loyalty.

-Yes, yes, I know them all, my lord. Can you believe me know? – The boredom had made her defiant now –

The lesson had gone through most of the morning until her savior came.
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Lumine
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« Reply #1 on: October 24, 2015, 07:13:22 PM »
« Edited: October 25, 2015, 02:17:47 PM by Lumine »


II


-You might as well stop torturing the princess. – She heard a voice behind her –
-Then you might as well take the princess to a walk, she I fear my lessons are of no help…-
-Ser Jorah! –

And before the bear could even react she had already given him a welcoming hug. She had to admit age suited him, for the white hair added a lot of depth to the still able Lord Commander of the Queensguard. There were many in court Visenya appreciated, but no one that she respected and liked as much as old Ser Jorah. Her aunt’s most loyal supported, it was he who had reformed the Guard into a very dedicated and competent force, Visenya serving at times as an unofficial pet as the first royal scion they had been sworn to defend. As a result most of the Queensguard adored her, and it was not uncommon to see the Princess follow the Lord Commander through the enormous corridors of the Dragonhall asking endless questions of his adventures in Essos.

-The Queen summons you, little Princess. - He said -
-I’m not little, Ser Jorah, it’s my fifteen name day tomorrow! -
-Little or not, Princess, a summon is a summon. – He nodded towards Brune – Lord Brune.-
-Ser Jorah.-

Ser Jorah and Visenya took the outer corridors towards the main hall, taking full advantage of the view of the seas as they walked towards their goal. The old Castle of Dragonstone itself was good enough for the Royal Court on most days, but for the more official occasions the new palace of Dragonhall was used. Finding the main castle to be too depressing, Visenya strongly preferred to reside on Dragonhall. It was easier to be around her friends there, and she did not have to bump into the other princes so often… She may have been the heir to the Queen as Aegon the Unlucky’s daughter over the first years, but as more and more sons and daughters were born to the ruling King and Queen she was left fourth in line. She was behind Crown Prince Aemon, the insufferable and arrogant copy of his father, Prince Daeron, reserved and calculating even for a young boy Princess Daena, a rather shy young girl, and even behind her cousin Viserys, who was barely a toddler. It was no secret that she did not get along with them, but it was to herself that she kept the fact that she was not close to her family. Not that her aunt was ever bad to her, but the distance could be felt. And what other kin did she even have? The Baratheons of Storms End were distant and distrusted at court, and Argella the Spider, heir to the recently deceased Shireen Lackland, was the mortal enemy of her family holed up in the so called “Serene” Republic of Braavos along with her Onion Hand, and Dorne…

Ah, Dorne…

-Thinking of someone, your grace? – Ser Jorah looked curious – A boy, perhaps? –
-It’s really not like that. You disappoint me, Ser Jorah.-
-Oh, my apologies. Who is it then? –
-I think of my uncle.-
-The Prince of Dorne? –
-Yes, Ser Jorah. – She could not help but to feel annoyed at how everybody dismissed him – “The Prince of Dorne”, my uncle Quentyn. He’s the only family I have from my mother, must I spend my life unable to see him? –
-War is war, your grace. And we have fought Dorne for years.-
-I know. – And for the first time, the bitterness came out – If it were otherwise I would still have a family.-

Visenya regretted uttering those words, but Ser Jorah remained silent. Mayhaps he thinks me to be in the right? It was not out of the question. She had never asked someone in court nor she had received lessons on the subject, but the Dornishmen had been loyal to Aegon until the very end. It could be argued she had even been a Queen on her own right at her first months of age, due to the actions of her mother… that mother she would never know. It took a while for one of the history books of Archmaester Samwell – one of the Tarlys of Horn Hill – to fall onto her hands as a gift by young Tyrion, and it was there that she had learned on vivid detail of the deaths of her mother and family at the hands of… Daenerys. A second field of fire, they called it. And she was found in the fire by her aunt, taken to ride with the dragons and be groomed as a Princess. It infuriated to think her aunt had expected that piece of history to be ignored, or for things to be the same after that.

-It was war, Princess. - Ser Jorah said, as if he realized the thoughts she was having – War is never an easy thing, I do not have to tell you that. Many invaluable things can be lost in war…-
-Your father died on the civil wars, right, Ser Jorah? –
-He did. But not on the war itself, he was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. – Jorah’s expression denoted pride – One of the last, anyway.-
-And what happened to him? – Now she was curious. Having heard all about Jorah’s miserable wife, she had never thought about asking on his father –
-He went on a ranging Beyond the Wall before the Sidhe appeared. He was killed in a mutiny by his own men. I… wasn’t present. – He added, some pain on his voice –

He is not the only one who has lost a lot, I suppose… His wife is still someone concubine out there, his father killed by his own men. His love… he still guards his love. No one in court talks about it, but everybody sees Ser Jorah will never let go of my aunt, until his very last day. It was because of that that Visenya admired him, because he stoically served Daenerys as his most loyal friend despite knowing he was not destined to be truly close to her.

-We’ve all lost something, Princess.- He continued as they reached the main chamber – Such is the nature of the world we live in. Had we all gave in to revenge… things would not be what they are now.-

And he stepped back, allowing Ser Hobber to open the doors. Visenya had already left Ser Jorah’s side when she noted he had said “revenge”, and she began to wonder just how much the old knight could read from her reactions. Alas, those concerns were left for other things.

-Visenya! Please, come near the throne! – Daenerys called, obviously in a good mood –

Despite approaching her late-thirties, the Queen still looked young, not as she had in the middle of the trail of fire that had taken her from Meereen to Dragonstone yet still vigorous. Daenerys Targaryen, still Dragonlady of Volantis and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms – minus Dorne – had been able to restore Targaryen rule into Westeros in what was beginning to be called the “Restoration”, but the price had been high. Ruined by war and the Sidhe invasion, rebuilding the kingdoms had been an arduous task, one that wasn’t fully complete even today. While Daenerys had been able to keep Volantis sworn to her will and most of Westeros in line – although everybody knew the Iron Islands and the North to be all but independent -, not only Dorne and the Most Serene Republic of Braavos were able to defy the Queen at every turn, her work on Essos had collapsed. Not prepared to deal with the end of slavery, the continent had collapsed on constant wars between the remnants of the Free Cities, the Ghiscari and even the Dothraki hordes, a chaos that a weakened Westeros couldn’t help to put an end to. Some minor realms were ruled by freedmen, others by noblemen and slavers, other places saw the merchants reign supreme, and the abrupt disruption of commerce only made piracy worse. That, among other things, was one of the negative sides of the coin that Daenerys’s rule was.

-Aunt, it is good to see you. – She answered, not betraying her emotions –
-I hope the lessons of today proved useful. With your nameday tomorrow, there is a lot to be done.-
-Indeed, your grace. Will… will my request be possible? –

Daenerys looked at her carefully, and Visenya could sense the Hand of the King racing towards the Throne to put on an excuse.

-Please remain where you are, my lord.-
-But your Grace! – Lord Velaryon complained - It is much too soon for that! –
-You forget we Targaryens can ride from young. – Daenerys replied – And my niece is almost fifteen.-
-Does that mean…? –
-Yes, Visenya. You can attempt to ride Bluefyre today, and see if you can put on a demonstration for our guests tomorrow. – She smiled –
-Aunt, thank you so much!

Finally good news! Visenya insisted on thanking the Queen, as she had spent months trying to convince her mother and the Small Council that it was time she was allowed to ride a dragon. It was only fair, after all, as the kingdom lacked dragon riders. Daenerys and Mantarys had not been flying with Drogon and Rhaegal, and her arrogant cousin Aemon was not making any progress on Viserion. The rest of the dragons were mostly too small to be able to truly ride, but Bluefyre – named like that because of his haunting blue eyes – was the sole that grew as fast as the three larger dragons had on their own time. Stressing her age and her evident bonding with the dragon, she was finally granted permission to do what he she wanted to do.

-Just be careful about it. – Her aunt warned her -
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Lumine
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« Reply #2 on: October 24, 2015, 07:35:46 PM »


III


It was during that afternoon that Visenya gathered her friends, who had been able to reach Dragonstone ahead of the other guests. Alys, Mern and Tyrion were there, and after greeting the Queen and going through the necessary ceremonial Visenya had insisted on taking them to Dragonmount for the ceremony, the gifts they had brought be damned. A few of Lord Grey Worm’s unsullied and Ser Richard Waters, the master at arms, followed behind, and they even had company waiting for them on the hill where the minor dragons were spending their time. To Visenya’s disappointment, Crown Prince Aemon was already there and trying to bond with Viserion, escorted by his good friend Bryce Cafeeren and Lord Rykker, the obsequious Master of Laws.

-Visenya. – Aemon nodded, his voice dripping with condescendence –
-Cousin. Strange to see you here.-
-I’ve come to ride Viserion into the skies, of course I would be here. What did you come to do, watch me triumph over the beast? –
-You wish! – She laughed – I got permission from my aunt to ride Bluefyre –
-Don’t make me laugh! You could not ride a dragon even if your life depended on it.-
-Wish to make a bet, my little Prince? –
-You will not call me little! You will address me a Crown Prince! –

And the back and forth continued from some time, helped by the actions of their friends. Alys stayed out as always, but Mern and Tyrion wasted no chance to try and team up against Bryce Cafereen, whom they saw as too much to a slave and a yes man to Aemon. In the end it was both Ser Rickard and Lord Rykker who had to stop them from entering an actual fight, and both sides separated. Determined to make the most of the occasion Visenya approached Bluefyre, whose eyes she had been fascinated with ever since the dragon had been born. He had grown to be rather large and impressive on his mostly blue color, and even if he was a lot smaller than Drogon in size his strength was not to be underestimated. Perhaps, just perhaps, Visenya had chosen him precisely because Bluefyre would be an excellent war dragon, perhaps even one with the talent to rival those famous beasts of the Dance of the Dragons.

-Are you sure you want to do this, Visenya? – Alys asked, somewhat concerned –
-It’s brave of you, as always. – Mern Costayne pointed out –
-Why are you both so surprised? – Both turned towards the golden-haired Tyrion, the living image of the Kingslayer – It was custom for the Targaryen Princes to ride their dragons young. If they hadn’t botched the process during the Dance, the few who got burnt to death would have been spared their horrible deaths.-
-That’s very helpful, Tyrion! – She shouted back, approaching the dragon –

She had spent a lot of time trying to win over Bluefyre, and his hostility had been reduced to nothing by that point. Whereas Aemon could not get Viserion to notice him, she had simply used the tricks the histories on dragons had recommended, and they had worked almost to a perfection. Already saddled thanks to the endless cares of Ser Rickard, she easily jumped into the dragon after offering him something to eat – courtesy of the kind unsullied, who had killed and brought a goat for her -, slowly trying to master the moves necessary to get Bluefyre to race to the skies as he already did… just that this time he would have a passenger. The dragon showed no resistance as his wings began to flap, and slowly but surely Visenya elevated from the ground as Mern, Tyrion and Alys cheered, Aemon looking positively crushed.

-I’ll see you later, cousin! – She shouted, happy as ever –
-Curse you, Visenya! Seven hells! –

Bluefyre took flight with Visenya driving him towards the upper towers of Dragonhall, and then even higher into the top of the Dragonmount. The feeling of being in the air was one that she absolutely loved, but this was different. Before she had rode into Drogon by travelling with her aunt, but this time it was her who could give the command and fly to wherever she wanted. She was going to have to go down soon to ride tomorrow and impress the Lords, but even if that was true she could not help but to wonder where would she go with Bluefyre… It would not take long for her to be in command on what promised to be a large war machine – regardless of how much she cared for the dragon -, and even less for her to be of marriageable age. An irresistible combination that would finally make her player, all thoughts that showed the endless lessons on politics were beginning to set into that head full of dreams… and ambitions.

Where would she go?

To Braavos, to meet the Spider who fought against her family? To Volantis, where the crowds would adore another dragon rider? To Dorne, perhaps, to meet her uncle at last and learn the truth of her heritage, her mother and father? A thousand plans went through her head, a thousand ideas seduced her spirit into a desire for more, a desire to win the place she thought she deserved in that new world the wars had created.

It was a certainty that when every Targaryen was born the gods flipped a coin to choose between madness and greatness. Having the gods made that decision for Visenya long ago, they flipped the coin once more as she raced ahead towards the sun with Bluefyre…

And Visenya Targaryen made her choice.
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Lumine
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« Reply #3 on: October 24, 2015, 07:36:37 PM »

THE END
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